“Immediately after the insurgents, driven back by the troops, had occupied La Roquette, they installed a court-martial at the children’s prison opposite, where I live. It was from thence I saw the poor wretches whom they feigned to release, ushered in to the square, where they encountered an ignoble mob, that ill-treated them in the most brutal manner. I was told that Ferré presided over this court-martial. Its proceedings were singular. I saw an unfortunate gendarme taken to the prison; he had been arrested near the Grenier d’Abondance, on a denunciation. He wore a blouse, blue trousers, and an apron, and was charged with having stolen them. The mob wanted to enter the prison along with him, but the keepers, who behaved very well, prevented the invasion of the courtyard. The escort was commanded by a young woman carrying a Chassepot, and wearing a chignon. I entered the registrar’s office with this unfortunate gendarme. One Briand, who was charged to question the prisoners summarily, asked him where his clothes came from. The man was very cool and courageous, and his perfect self-possession disconcerted this _juge d’instruction._ He was asked if he were married, and had a family. He replied, ‘Yes, I have a wife and eight children.’ He was then shown into the back office, where the ‘judges’ were. These judges were mere boys, who seemed quite proud of the part they were playing, and gave themselves no end of airs, I asked the governor of the gaol soon afterwards what had been done with the gendarme. He told me that they were going to shoot him. I replied, ‘Surely it can’t be true. I must see the president—we can’t allow a married man with eight children to be murdered in this way.’ I tried to get into the room where the court-martial was sitting, but was prevented. One of the National Guards on duty at the door told me ‘Don’t go in there, or you’re done for (_N’y entrez pas, ou vous êtes f—_).’ I made immediately further inquiries about M. Grudnemel, and was told he was in ‘a provisional cell.’ I trembled for him, for I knew that meant he would be given up to the mob, which would tear him to pieces. When they said, ‘This man is to be taken to a cell,’ that meant that he was to be shot. When they said, ‘Put him in a provisional cell,’ it meant that he should be delivered over to the mob for butchery, I continued to plead the gendarme’s cause with the National Guard, dwelling on the fact of his having eight children. Thereon, the Woman above referred to, who appeared to be in command of the detachment, exclaimed, ‘Why does this fellow go in for the gendarme?’ One of her acolytes replied, ‘Smash his jaw.’ This woman seemed to understand her business. She minutely inspected the men’s pouches to ascertain that they had plenty of ammunition. She would not hear of the gendarme being reprieved, and she had her way. I understood that I had better follow the governor’s advice and keep quiet. A mere boy was