know how fond I
am of going among crowds to study character. This day last week, I was
passing along the Rue Drouot, when I saw a large group in front of the
Mairie. I had left home early in the morning, I knew nothing of what was
going on in my neighbourhood, so you may imagine my surprise when I
heard them calmly discussing the death of Clement Thomas and Lecomte.
My hair stood positively on end, and I must have pushed a bit in order
to get nearer the speakers. I had a long black coat on, and they mistook
me for a cure. I did all I could to tell them my name, but, before I
could utter a word, I was down, and they began trampling on me. Some
one, God alone knows who, saved me, by telling them my name. I knew
nothing more, for I was brought home unconscious. And to think," he
added, "that I might have been a member of the Commune myself, if I had
liked."

"What do you mean?" I said, for I began to think that he was out of his
mind.

"Well, you know that during the siege I tried to do my duty as a
National Guard, and in my battalion was this Theophile Ferre of whom you
have already heard. A most intelligent creature, but poor as Job and
ferocious to a degree. He was a study to me, and, of late, he frequently
came to see me in the morning. I generally asked him to stay to
breakfast, for I liked to hear him talk of the future Commune, though I
had not the slightest faith in his visions. I considered him a downright
lunatic. About two or three days before this outbreak, he came, one
morning, looking as pale as a ghost, but evidently very much excited.
Before I had time to ask him the cause of his emotion, he exclaimed,
'This time there is no mistake about it; we are the masters.' I suppose
my face must have looked a perfect blank, for he proceeded to explain.
'In two days we'll hold our sittings at the Hotel-de-Ville, and the
Commune will be proclaimed. And now,' he added, 'what can I do for you,
citoyen Gil-Peres? You have always been very kind to me, and I am not
likely to forget it when I am at the top of the tree.'

"I told him that I'd feel much obliged to him if he could induce Sardou
or Dumas to write me a good part, like the latter had done before,
because I wanted to be something more than a comic actor. But I saw that
he was getting angry.

"'Do you mean to tell me,' he almost hissed, 'that you do not want to
belong to the Commune?'

"'I haven't the slightest ambition that way,' I replied. 'People would
onl