“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 Fraternite.

    “FELIX PYAT.”

“Before the victory” is exquisitely comic!  But, carried away by the desire of exhibiting the wit of which he is master, Monsieur Felix 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 sure.’ 
     Il cherche a s’en aller, furtif et reculant. 
          Reste dans la masure!”

     “Tu dis:  ’Le plafond croule; ils vont, si l’on me voit,
          Empecher 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 funebres! 
     Reste!  La loi qu’ils ont enfouie en un trou
          Est la dans les tenebres.

     “Reste!  Elle est la, le flanc perce de leurs couteaux,
          Gisante, et sur sa biere
     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 destinee! 
     Quoi! tu voudrais trahir jusqu’a la trahison
          Elle-meme indignee!

     “Quoi! n’as-tu pas tenu l’echelle a ces fripons
          En pleine connivence? 
     Le sac de ces voleurs ne fut-il pas, reponds,
          Cousu par toi d’avance?

     “Les mensonges, la haine au dard froid et visqueux,
          Habitent ce repaire;
     Tu t’en vas!  De quel droit, etant plus renard qu’eux
          Et plus qu’elle vipere?”

And Monsieur Felix Pyat will remain, in spite of the thousand and one good reasons he would find to make a short tour in Belgium.  His colleagues will try persuasion, if necessary—­“You are good, you are great, you are pure; what would become of us without you?” and they will hold on to him to the end, like cowards who in the midst of danger cling to their companions, shrieking out, “We will die together!” and embrace them convulsively to prevent their escape.