n up by Genton had been approved at headquarters,
the director of the prison had no resource but to deliver up his
prisoners.

Another man, wearing a scarf of office, had now joined the party.
He was very impatient, and accused the others roundly of a want
of revolutionary spirit. He landed afterwards in New York, where
his fellow-Communists gave him a public reception.

One of the warders of the prison, Henrion by name, made some attempt
to expostulate with the _Vengeurs de Flourens_, who had been told off
for the execution. "What would you have?" was the answer. "Killing is
not at all amusing. We were killing this morning at the Prefecture
of Police. But they say this is reprisal. The Versaillais have
been killing our generals."

Soon Henrion was called upon to open the fourth corridor. "I must
go and get the keys," he answered. He had them in his hand at the
moment. He went rapidly away, flung the keys into a heap of filth,
and rushed out of the prison. By means of a twenty-franc gold piece
that he had with him, he passed out of the gates of Paris, and
sought refuge with the Bavarians at Vincennes.

Meantime another bunch of keys was found, and the executioners,
led by Ferre, Lolive, and Megy,--that member of the Commune whom
none of them seemed to know,--hurried upstairs. In the crowd were
_gamins_ and women, National Guards, Garibaldians, and others, but
chiefly the _Vengeurs de Flourens_, a corps of which an Englishman
who served the Commune said: "They were to a man all blackguards."

Up the prison stairs they swarmed, shouting threats and curses,
especially against the archbishop, who was erroneously believed by
the populace of Paris to have had provisions hidden in the vaults
of Notre Dame and in his palace during the siege. A turnkey was
ordered to summon the six prisoners; but when he found whom he
was to call, he refused, and the officer in command had to call
them himself.

The archbishop's name was first. He came out of his cell at once,
wearing his purple cassock. Then Gaspard Duguerrey was summoned.
He was eighty years old. He did not answer immediately, and was
called a second time. Next, Leon Ducoudray was called,--a Jesuit
father, head of a college, a tall, fine-looking man. He came forth
with a proud smile. Alexis Clerc, also a Jesuit father, stepped
forth briskly, almost gayly. Then came Michel Allard, the hospital
chaplain,--a gentle, kindly-looking man. The three weeks before
his arrest h