to introduce his ponderous bulk into those of the poet. This done, out they went. “Get up on the box.”—“On the box?”—“Yes, idiot,” said the coachman, growing more and more familiar; “I am going to get into the cab, now drive me wherever you please.” The plan was a complete success. At the Porte de Châtillon the disguised poet exhibited his passport, and the National Guard who looked in at the window of the carriage cried out, “Oh, he may pass; he might be my grandfather.” The cab rolled over the draw-bridge, and it was in this way that M ...,—ah! I was just going to let the cat out of the bag—it was in this way that our young poet broke the law of the Commune, and managed to dine that same evening at the Hôtel des Réservoirs at Versailles, with a deputy of the right on his left hand, and a deputy of the left on his right hand. Shall I go away? Why not? Do I particularly wish to be shut up one morning in some barrack-room, or sent in spite of myself to the out-posts? My position of _réfractaire_ is sensibly aggravated by the fact of my being in rather a dangerous neighbourhood. For the last few days, I have felt rather astonished at the searching glances that a neighbour always casts upon me, when we met in the street. I told my servant to try and find out who this man was. Great heavens! this scowling neighbour of mine is Gérardin—Gérardin of the Commune! Add to this the perilous fact, that our _concierge_ is lieutenant in a Federal battalion, and you will have good reason to consider me the most unfortunate of _réfractaires_. However, what does it matter? I decide on remaining; I will stay and see the end, even should the terrible Pyat and the sweet Vermorel both of them be living under the same roof with me, even if my _concierge_ be M. Delescluze himself! NOTES: [87] The decree which rendered obligatory the service in the marching companies of the National Guard, and the establishment of courts-martial, spread terror among the population, and thousands of people thronged daily to the Prefecture of Police. Sometimes, the queue extended from the Place Dauphine to beyond the Pont Neuf. But soon afterwards, stratagems of every kind were put into requisition to escape from the researches of the Commune, which became more eager and determined, from day to day, after the publication of the following decree, the chef-d’oeuvre of the too famous Raoul Rigault:— “EX-PREFECTURE OF POLICE. “Delivery of Passports.