as if they were no
more than ordinary archbishops.

[Illustration: PLACING THE RED FLAG
ON THE PANTHEON. (The hole in the dome was occasioned by a Prussian
shell.)]

What! Assy--Assy[42] of Creuzot--who signed before all his comrades the
proclamations of the Central Committee, in virtue, not only of his
ability, but in obedience to the alphabetical order of the thing--Assy
no longer reigns at the Hotel de Ville!--publishes no more decrees,
discusses no longer with F. Cournet, nor with G. Tridon. Wherefore this
fall after so much glory? It is whispered about that Assy has thought it
prudent to put aside a few rolls of bank notes found in the drawers of
the late Government. What, is that all? How long have politicians been
so scrupulous? Members of the Commune, how very punctilious you have
grown. Now if the Citizen Assy were accused of having in 1843 been
intimately acquainted with a lady whose son is now valet to M. Thiers'
first cousin, or if he had been seen in a church, and it were clearly
proved that he was there with any other intention than that of
delicately picking the pockets of the faithful, then I could understand
your indignation. But the idea of arresting a man because he has
appropriated the booty of the traitors, is too absurd; if you go on
acting in that way people will think you are growing conscientious!

As to Citizen Lullier,[43] who was one of the first victims of
"fraternity," he is imprisoned because he did not succeed in capturing
Mont Valerien. I think with horror that if I had been in the place of
Citizen Lullier I should most certainly have had to undergo the same
punishment, for how in the devil's name I could have managed to
transport that impregnable fortress on to the council-table at the Hotel
de Ville I have not the least conception. It is as bad as if you were in
Switzerland, and asked the first child you met to go and fetch Mont
Blanc; of course the child would go and have a game of marbles with his
companions, and come back without the smallest trace of Mont Blanc in
his arms, thereupon you would whip the youngster within an ace of his
life. However, it appears that M. Lullier objected to being whipped, or
rather imprisoned, and being as full of cunning as of valour he managed
to slip out of his place of confinement, without drum or trumpet. "Dear
Rochefort," he writes to the editor of _Le Mot d'Ordre_, "you know of
what infamous machinations I have been the victim." I suppose M.