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said, "Look and see if he is not in here!" The Commissary of Police
darted a furious glance at him: "Lackey, take care!" The lackey was
himself.
These men having gone, it was noticed that several of my papers were
missing. Fragments of manuscripts had been stolen, amongst others one
dated July, 1848, and directed against the military dictatorship of
Cavaignac, and in which there were verses written respecting the
Censorship, the councils of war, and the suppression of the newspapers,
and in particular respecting the imprisonment of a great journalist--Emile
de Girardin:--
"
... O honte, un lansquenet
Gauche, et parodiant César dont il hérite,
Gouverne les esprits du fond de sa guérite!"
These manuscripts are lost.
The police might come back at any moment, in fact they did come back a
few minutes after I had left. I kissed my wife; I would not wake my
daughter, who had just fallen asleep, and I went downstairs again. Some
affrighted neighbors were waiting for me in the courtyard. I cried out
to them laughingly, "Not caught yet!"
A quarter of an hour afterwards I reached No. 10, Rue des Moulins. It
was not then eight o'clock in the morning, and thinking that my
colleagues of the Committee of Insurrection had passed the night there,
I thought it might be useful to go and fetch them, so that we might
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