He plunged into Paris.  In the Place des Victoires he met the ex-Constituent Isidore Buvignier, his friend, who about six weeks previously had come out of the Madelonnettes, where he had been confined for the matter of the Solidarite Republicaine.  Buvignier was one of the noteworthy figures on the high benches of the Left; fair, close-shaven, with a stern glance, he made one think of the English Roundheads, and he had the bearing rather of a Cromwellian Puritan than of a Dantonist Man of the Mountain.  Cournet told his adventure, the extremity had been terrible.

Buvignier shook his head.

“You have killed a man,” he said.

In “Marie Tudor,” I have made Fabiani answer under similar circumstances,—­

“No, a Jew.”

Cournet, who probably had not read “Marie Tudor,” answered,—­

“No, a police spy.”

Then he resumed,—­

“I have killed a police spy to save three men, one of whom was myself.”

Cournet was right.  They were in the midst of the combat, they were taking him to be shot; the spy who had arrested him was, properly speaking, an assassin, and assuredly it was a case of legitimate defence.  I add that this wretch, a democrat for the people, a spy for the police, was a twofold traitor.  Moreover, the police spy was the jackal of the coup d’etat, while Cournet was the combatant for the Law.

“You must conceal yourself,” said Buvignier; “come to Juvisy.”

Buvignier had a little refuge at Juvisy, which is on the road to Corbeil.  He was known and loved there; Cournet and he reached there that evening.

But they had hardly arrived when some peasants said to Buvignier, “The police have already been here to arrest you, and are coming again to-night.”

It was necessary to go back.

Cournet, more in danger than ever, hunted, wandering, pursued, hid himself in Paris with considerable difficulty.  He remained there till the 16th.  He had no means of procuring himself a passport.  At length, on the 16th, some friends of his on the Northern Railway obtained for him a special passport, worded as follows:—­

“Allow M. ——­, an Inspector on the service of the Company, to pass.”

He decided to leave the next day, and take the day train, thinking, perhaps rightly, that the night train would be more closely watched.

On the 17th, at daybreak, favored by the dim dawn, he glided from street to street, to the Northern Railway Station.  His tall stature was a special source of danger.  He, however, reached the station in safety.  The stokers placed him with them on the tender of the engine of the train, which was about to start.  He only had the clothes which he had worn since the 2d; no clean linen, no trunk, a little money.

In December, the day breaks late and the night closes in early, which is favorable to proscribed persons.

He reached the frontier at night without hindrance.  At Neuveglise he was in Belgium; he believed himself in safety.  When asked for his papers he caused himself to be taken before the Burgomaster, and said to him, “I am a political refugee.”