it."

They wrapped me in an old number of the _Official Journal of the
Commune_. The following day we went to M. Worth, the Commissioner and I.
The conversation was not long.

"Was this dress made by you?" the Commissioner asked.

"Yes; here's the mark."

"And for whom was it made?"

"Number 18,223. Wait a moment; I'll consult my books." The dress-maker
came back in five minutes, and said to the Commissioner, "It was for the
Baroness Z---- that I made this dress, eighteen months ago, and it isn't
paid for."

THE INSURGENT

"Prisoner," said the President of the Council of War, "have you anything
to add in your defence?"

"Yes, colonel," replied the prisoner. "The little lawyer you assigned me
defended me according to his idea; I want to defend myself according to
mine.

"My name is Martin (Lewis Joseph). I am fifty-five years old. My father
was a locksmith. He had a little shop in the upper part of the
Saint-Martin Quarter, and had a fair business. We just existed. I
learned to read in the _National_, which was, I believe, the paper of M.
Thiers.

"On the 27th of July, 1830, my father went out very early. That evening,
at ten o'clock, he was brought back to us on a litter, dying. He had
received a bullet in the chest. Beside him on the litter was his musket.

"'Take it,' he said to me. 'I give it to you; and every time there is a
riot, be against the Government--always, always, always!'

"An hour later he was dead. I went out in the night. At the first
barricade I stopped and offered myself; a man examined me by the light
of a lantern. 'A child!' he exclaimed. I was not fifteen. I was very
slight and undersized. I answered: 'A child, maybe, but my father was
killed two hours ago. He gave me his musket. Teach me how to use it.'

"From that moment I became what I have always been for forty years, an
insurgent! If I fought during the Commune, it was not because I was
forced, nor for the thirty sous; it was from taste, from pleasure, from
habit, from routine.

"In 1830 I behaved rather bravely at the attack on the Louvre. The
urchin who first scaled the gate beneath the bullets of the Swiss was I.
I received the Medal of July. But the shopkeepers gave us a king. It had
all to be done over. I joined a secret society; I learned to melt
bullets, to make powder--in short, I completed my education, and I
waited.

"I had to wait nearly two years. On June 5, 1832, at noon, in front of
the Madeleine, I