Yes; the war has changed the population, if not in the way you understand it, at least in this sense, that a great many reasonable people have gone mad, and that many—ah! how many?—are now dead. “I think that it was more just to change the law than to violate it. The ballot gave birth to the Commune, and in completing itself without it, the Commune commits suicide. I will not be an accomplice in the fault.” We understand that; it is quite enough to be an accomplice in the crime. “I am so convinced of this truth, that if the Commune persist in what I call an usurpation of the elective power, I could not reconcile the respect due to the rote of the majority with the respect due to my own conscience; I shall therefore be obliged, much to my regret, to give in my resignation to the Commune before the victory. “_Salut et Fraternité_. “FÉLIX PYAT.” “Before the victory” is exquisitely comic! But, carried away by the desire of exhibiting the wit of which he is master, Monsieur Félix Pyat fails to perceive that his irony is a little too transparent, that “before the victory” evidently meant “before the defeat,” and that consequently, without taking into account the excellent reasons given in his letter to the president of the Commune, we shall only recollect that rats run away when the vessel is about to sink. But this time the rats must remain at the bottom of the hold. Tour colleagues, Monsieur Pyat, will not permit you to be the only one to withdraw from the honours, since you have been with them in the strife. Not daring to fly themselves, they will make you stay. Vermorel will seize you by the collar at the moment you are about to open the door and make your escape; and Monsieur Pierre Denis,[68] who used to be a poet as well as a cobbler, will murmur in your ear these verses of Victor Hugo[69], which, with a few slight modifications, will suit your case exactly:— “Maintenant il se dit: ‘L’empire est chancelant; La victoire est peu sûre.’ Il cherche à s’en aller, furtif et reculant. Reste dans la masure!” “Tu dis: ‘Le plafond croule; ils vont, si l’on me voit, Empêcher que je sorte.’ N’osant rester ni fuir, tu regardes le toit, Tu regardes la porte. “Tu mets timidement la main sur le verrou; Reste en leurs rangs funèbres! Reste! La loi qu’ils ont enfouie en un trou Est là dans les ténèbres. “Reste! Elle est là, le flanc percé de leurs couteaux, Gisante, et sur sa bière Ils ont mis une dalle. Un pan de ton manteau Est pris sous cette pierre. “Tu ne t’en iras pas! Quoi! quitter leur maison! Et fuir leur destinée! Quoi! tu voudrais trahir jusqu’à la trahison Elle-même indignée! “Quoi! n’as-tu pas tenu l’échelle à ces fripons En pleine connivence? Le sac de ces voleurs ne fut-il pas, réponds, Cousu par toi d’avance?