e a stain of blood, and little green and yellow
flames fluttered about, caused by the emanations from the vault. Through
fear of epidemics, a commission was appointed. When he had advanced a
few steps, the President recoiled, frightened by the stench from the
excrements and from the corpses.

As soon as the prisoners drew near a vent-hole, the National Guards who
were on sentry, in order to prevent them from shaking the bars of the
grating, prodded them indiscriminately with their bayonets.

As a rule they showed no pity. Those who were not beaten wished to
signalise themselves. There was a regular outbreak of fear. They avenged
themselves at the same time on newspapers, clubs, mobs,
speech-making--everything that had exasperated them during the last
three months, and in spite of the victory that had been gained, equality
(as if for the punishment of its defenders and the exposure of its
enemies to ridicule) manifested itself in a triumphal fashion--an
equality of brute beasts, a dead level of sanguinary vileness; for the
fanaticism of self-interest balanced the madness of want, aristocracy
had the same fits of fury as low debauchery, and the cotton cap did not
show itself less hideous than the red cap. The public mind was agitated
just as it would be after great convulsions of nature. Sensible men were
rendered imbeciles for the rest of their lives on account of it.

Pere Roque had become very courageous, almost foolhardy. Having arrived
on the 26th at Paris with some of the inhabitants of Nogent, instead of
going back at the same time with them, he had gone to give his
assistance to the National Guard encamped at the Tuileries; and he was
quite satisfied to be placed on sentry in front of the terrace at the
water's side. There, at any rate, he had these brigands under his feet!
He was delighted to find that they were beaten and humiliated, and he
could not refrain from uttering invectives against them.

One of them, a young lad with long fair hair, put his face to the bars,
and asked for bread. M. Roque ordered him to hold his tongue. But the
young man repeated in a mournful tone:

"Bread!"

"Have I any to give you?"

Other prisoners presented themselves at the vent-hole, with their
bristling beards, their burning eyeballs, all pushing forward, and
yelling:

"Bread!"

Pere Roque was indignant at seeing his authority slighted. In order to
frighten them he took aim at them; and, borne onward into the vault by