ituents, appeared on the scene. "This cow,"
he shouts, "has been stolen from me by the Imperial fisc, and whosoever
buys it is nothing more than a thief himself." Result: not a single bid
for the cow, and the auctioneer was compelled to adjourn the sale for a
week. The auctioneer deemed it prudent to transport the cow to a
neighbouring commune, but Gambon had got wind of the affair, and adopted
the same expedient of moral persuasion. For nearly three months the
auctioneer transported the cow from one commune to another, and Gambon
followed him everywhere, until they reached the limits of the
department. Gambon apprehended that moral persuasion would have no
effect among strangers, and he let things take their course. The cost of
selling the cow amounted to about ten times its worth. As a matter of
course, the whole affair was revived by "les journaux bien pensants" at
the advent of the Commune, and Gambon was elected a member by the 10th
Arrondissement. Gambon managed to escape into Switzerland; but when the
amnesty was proclaimed, he returned, and solicited once more the
suffrages of his former constituents. At the Brasserie Saint-Severin,
Gambon was generally to be found at the ladies' table, about the
occupants of which I cannot speak, seeing that I was not introduced to
them.

Jourde was one of two "financial delegates" of the Commune. He had been
a superior employe at the Bank of France, and was considered an
authority on financial affairs. It was he to whom the Marquis de Ploeuc,
the governor of the Bank, had handed the first million for the use of
the Commune. My friend, the doctor, had known him in his former
capacity, and often invited him to our table, to which invitation the
"paymaster-general" always eagerly responded. One evening, the
conversation turned upon the events which had preceded the request for
funds. "On the second day of the Commune," he said, "the want of money
began to be horribly felt. Eudes proposed that I should go and fetch
some from the Bank of France. To be perfectly candid, I did not care
about it. Had I been a soldier, I might have invaded the Bank at the
head of a regiment; but, to go and ask my former chief for a million or
so as a matter of course, was a different thing, and I had not the moral
courage. The director of the Bank of France is very little short of a
god to his subordinates, and, in spite of our boasted 'Liberty,
Fraternity, and Equality,' there is no nation so ready to