r amounted to eight thousand! This army had its chiefs, and
each detachment was charged with the firing of a quarter. The order for
the conflagration of public edifices bore the stamp of the Commune, and
of the Central Committee, and the seal of the delegate at the Ministry
of War. For the private houses more expeditive means were used. Small
tickets, of the size of postage stamps, were found pasted upon walls of
houses in different parts of Paris, with the letters B.P.B. (_bon pour
bruler_), literally, good for burning. Some of the tickets were square,
others oval, with a bacchante's head in the centre. They were affixed on
spots designated by the chiefs. Every _petroleuse_ was to receive ten
francs for each house she fired. Sept. 5,1871. Amongst the insurgents
tried at Versailles, three petroleuses were condemned to death, and one
to imprisonment for life, a host of others being transported or
otherwise punished.]

XCVIII.

It is seven in the evening, the circulation has become almost
impossible. The streets are lined with patrols, and the regiments of the
Line camp upon the outer boulevards. They dine, smoke, and bivouac, and
drink with the citizens on the doorsteps of their houses. In the
distance is heard the storm of sounds which tells of the despairing
resistance of Belleville, and along the foot of the houses are seen
square white patches, showing the walled-up cellars, every hole and
crevice being plastered up to prevent insertion of the diabolical
liquid--walled up against _petroleurs_ and petroleuses, strings of
prisoners, among whom are furious women and poor children, their hands
tied behind their backs, pass along the boulevards towards Neuilly.
Night comes on, not a lamp is lighted, and the streets become deserted
as by degrees the sky becomes darker. At nine o'clock the solitude is
almost absolute. The sound of a musket striking the pavement is heard
from time to time; a sentinel passes here and there, and the lights in
the houses grow more and more rare.

XCIX.

The hours and the days pass and resemble each other horribly. To write
the history of the calamities is not yet possible. Each one sees but a
corner of the picture, and the narratives that are collected are vague
and contradictory; it appears certain now that the insurrection is
approaching the end. It is said that the fort of Montrouge is taken; but
it still hurls its shells upon Paris. Several have just fallen in the
quart