oured each other. It was a desperate scuffle in the dark.

The barricade did not hold out for two minutes. In several places, it
may be remembered, it was low. It was rather stridden over than scaled.
That was all the more heroic. One of the survivors[28] told the writer
of these lines, "The barricade defended itself very badly, but the men
died very well."

All this took place while Jeanty Sarre and Charpentier were carrying the
wounded man to the ambulance in the Rue du Cadran. His wounds having
been attended to, they came back to the barricade. They had just reached
it when they heard themselves called by name. A feeble voice close by
said to them, "Jeanty Sarre! Charpentier!" They turned round and saw one
of their men who was dying leaning against a wall, and his knees giving
way beneath him. He was a combatant who had left the barricade. He had
only been able to take a few steps down the street. He held his hand
over his breast, where he had received a ball fired at close quarters.
He said to them in a scarcely audible voice, "The barricade is taken,
save yourselves."

"No," said Jeanty Sarre, "I must unload my gun." Jeanty Sarre re-entered
the barricade, fired a last shot and went away.

Nothing could be more frightful than the interior of the captured
barricade.

The Republicans, overpowered by numbers, no longer offered any
resistance. The officers cried out, "No prisoners!" The soldiers billed
those who were standing, and despatched those who had fallen. Many
awaited their death with their heads erect. The dying raised themselves
up, and shouted, "Long live the Republic!" Some soldiers ground their
heels upon the faces of the dead, so that they should not be recognized.
There, stretched out amongst the corpses, in the middle of the
barricade, with his hair in the gutter, was seen the all-but namesake of
Charpentier, Carpentier, the delegate of the committee of the Tenth
Arrondissement, who had been killed, and had fallen backwards, with two
balls in his breast. A lighted candle which the soldiers had taken from
the wine-shop was placed on a paving stone.

The soldiers were infuriated. One would say that they were revenging
themselves. On whom? A workman, named Paturel, received three balls and
six bayonet-thrusts, four of which were in the head. They thought that
he was dead, and they did not renew the attack. He felt them search him.
They took ten francs which he had about him. He did not die till six
d