He
afterwards went with Delescluze to the _Reveil_, where his revolutionary
principles were manifested. In the month of February, 1871, he was
elected a member of the National Assembly by the people of Paris. After
having sat for some time at Bordeaux, he gave his resignation, and
became one of the Communal council.

Appointed governor of the Ecole Militaire, he distinguished himself in
no way in his position, except by the sumptuous dinners and dejeuners
with which he regaled his friends.]

LXXXIX.

I have gazed so long on what was passing around me that my eyes are
weary. I have watched the slow decline of joy, of comfort and luxury,
almost without knowing how everything has been dying around me, as a man
in a ball-room where the candles are put out, one by one, may not
perceive at first the gathering gloom. To see Paris, as it is at the
present moment, as the Commune has made it, requires an effort. Let me
shut my eyes, and evoke the vision of Paris as it was, living, joyous,
happy even in the midst of sadness. I have done so--I have brought it
all back to me; now I will open my eyes and look around me.

In the street that I inhabit not a vehicle of any kind is visible. Men
in the uniform of National Guards pass and repass on the pavement; a
lady is talking with her _concierge_ on the threshold of one of the
houses. They talk low. Many of the shops are closed; some have only the
shutters up; a few are quite open. I see a woman at the bar of the
wine-shop opposite, drinking.

Some quarters still resist the encroachments of silence and apathy. Some
arteries continue to beat. Some ribbons here and there brighten up the
shop-windows: bare-headed shopgirls pass by with a smile on their lips;
men look after them as they trip along. At the corner of the Boulevards
a sort of tumult is occasioned by a number of small boys and girls,
venders of Communal journals, who screech out the name and title of
their wares at the top of their voices. But even there where the crowd
is thickest, one feels as if there were a void. The two contrary ideas
of multitude and solitude seem to present themselves at once in one's
mind. A weird impression! Imagine a vast desert with a crowd in it.

The Boulevards look interminable. There used to be a hundred obstacles
between you and the distance; now there is nothing to prevent your
looking as far as you like. Here and there a cab, an omnibus or two, and
that is all. The passers-by a