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thinking with anguish of the old man we had seen stretched on the
pavement at a few paces distant.
A newspaper was lying on the table. I took it up, and I unfolded it. It
was the P----, the rest of the title had been torn off. A
blood-stained hand was plainly imprinted on it. A wounded man on
entering had probably placed his hand on the table on the spot where the
newspaper lay. My eyes fell upon these lines:--
"M. Victor Hugo has just published an appeal to pillage and
assassination."
In these terms the journal of the Elysée described the proclamation
which I had dictated to Baudin, and which may be read in page 103 of
this History.
As I threw back the paper on the table one of the two defenders of the
barricade entered. It was the short man.
"A glass of water," said he. By the side of the medicine bottles there
was a decanter and a glass. He drank, greedily. He held in his hand a
morsel of bread and a sausage, which he was biting.
Suddenly we heard several successive explosions, following one after
another, and which seemed but a short distance off. In the silence of
this dark night it resembled the sound of a load of wood being shot on
to the pavement.
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