abandoned, and which had been built with barrels. The barrels, however,

were empty, only one contained any paving-stones, and the barricade

could not have been held for two minutes. As they left this barricade

they were assailed by a sharp discharge of musketry. A company of

infantry, hardly visible in the dusk, was close upon them.

They fell back hastily; but one of them, who was a shoemaker of the

Faubourg du Temple, was hit, and had remained on the pavement. They went

back and brought him away. He had the thumb of the right hand smashed.

Thank God!" said Jeanty Sarre, "they have not killed him." "No," said

the poor man, "it is my bread which they have killed."

And he added, "I can no longer work; who will maintain my children?"

They went back, carrying the wounded man. One of them, a medical

student, bound up his wound.

The sentries, whom it was necessary to post in every direction, and who

were chosen from the most trustworthy men, thinned and exhausted the

little central land. There were scarcely thirty in the barricade itself.

There, as in the Quarter of the Temple, all the streetlamps were

extinguished; the gas-pipes cut; the windows closed and unlighted; no

moon, not even stars. The night was profoundly dark.

They could hear distant fusillades. The soldiers were firing from around

Saint Eustache, and every three minutes sent a ball in their direction,

as much as to say, "We are here." Nevertheless they did not expect an

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The History of a Crime