to the door with the
straw of their mattresses. They pray and work. As Nourry has not been
confirmed and wishes to be before he dies, Chopart is teaching him the
catechism.

Beside the altar is a board laid upon two trestles. This board, which
is full of bullet holes, was the target of the fort. It has been turned
into a dining-table, a cruel, thoughtless act, for it is a continual
reminder to the prisoners of their approaching death.

A few days ago an anonymous letter reached them. This letter advised
them to stamp upon the flagstone in the centre of the casemate, which,
it was affirmed, covered the orifice of a well communicating with old
subterranean passages of the Abbey of Vanves that extended to Chatillon.
All they had to do was to raise the flagstone and they could escape that
very night.

They did as the letter directed. The stone, it was found, did emit a
hollow sound as though it covered an opening. But either because the
police had been informed of the letter, or for some other reason, a
stricter watch than ever has been kept upon them from that moment and
they have been unable to profit by the advice.

The gaolers and priests do not leave them for a minute either by day
or by night. Guardians of the body cheek by jowl with guardians of the
soul. Sorry human justice!

The execution of the condemned men in the Brea affair was a blunder.
It was the reappearance of the scaffold. The people had kicked over the
guillotine. The bourgeoisie raised it again. A fatal mistake.

President Louis Bonaparte was inclined to be merciful. The revision and
cassation could easily have been delayed. The Archbishop of Paris,
M. Sibour, successor of a victim, had begged for their lives. But the
stereotyped phrases prevailed. The country must be reassured. Order must
be reconstructed, legality rebuilt, confidence re-erected! And society
at that time was still reduced to employing lopped heads as building
material. The Council of State, such as it then was, consulted under
the terms of the Constitution, rendered an opinion in favour of the
execution. M. Cresson, counsel for Daix and Lahr, waited upon the
President. He was an emotional and eloquent young man. He pleaded for
these men, for the wives who were not yet widows, for the children who
were not yet orphans, and while speaking he wept.

Louis Bonaparte listened to him in silence, then took his hands, but
merely remarked: "I am most unhappy!"

In the evening of t