XII. (Page 345.) Regarding the death of President Bonjean, the Abbé de Marsay said—“That gentleman carried his scruples so far that he would not avail himself of forty-eight hours’ leave on _parole_, fearing he could not get back in time; thus did not see his family.” The Abbé Perni, a venerable man with a white beard, who had been a missionary said: “On Wednesday, the 24th of May, we were ordered back to our cells at La Roquette at an earlier hour than usual, and at about four o’clock in the afternoon a battalion of federates noisily occupied the passage into which our cells opened. They spoke at the topmost pitch of their voices. One of them said, ‘We must get rid of these Versailles banditti.’ Another replied, ‘Yes; let us bowl them over, put them to bed.’ I understood what this meant, and prepared for death. Soon after the door next mine was opened, and I heard a man asking if M. Darboy was there. The prisoner replied in the negative. The man passed before my door without stopping, and I soon heard the mild voice of the archbishop answering to his name. The hostages were then dragged put of the lobby; ten minutes later I saw the mournful _cortège_ pass in front of my windows; the federates were walking along in a confused way, making a noise to cover the voice of their victims, but I could hear Father Allard exhorting his companions to prepare for death. A little after I heard the report of the muskets, and understood that all was over. On Thursday (the 25th) the day passed off quietly, but on Friday shells began to fall on the prison, and at about half-past four in the afternoon a corporal, named Romain. came up, and with a joyful face told us we would soon be free. He said answer to your names; I must have 15. He had a list in his hand, and I must confess a feeling of terror came over us all. Ten hostages answered to their names. One of them, a father of the order of Picpus, asked if he could take his hat. Romain replied, ‘Oh, it’s no use; you are only going to the registrar’s.’ None of these unfortunate men ever returned. On Saturday (the 27th) we learnt that several of the prisoners had been armed with hammers, files, &c. They threw us some of these in at the windows. We were then informed that several members of the Commune had arrived at La Roquette. I cannot say whether Ferré was among them. We were taken back to our cellars, where we expected to be put to death every minute. At about four o’clock the cells of the common prisoners were opened, and they escaped, shouting ‘Vive la Commune!’ Our keeper himself had disappeared, and a turnkey presently opened our cells, and recommended us to run away. We were afraid this was a trap, but as it might afford a chance we determined to avail ourselves of it. Those amongst us who had plain clothes hurried them on, and I must say the gaolers behaved admirably in this emergency; they lent clothes to such of us as had none, and we were thus all enabled to escape. As for myself, after