In the midst of the tumult came a sudden lull; the besieged could see that something strange had taken place.  The crowd had been informed that the Government, alarmed by the advance of the Versailles troops, had abandoned its headquarters at the mairie of the Eleventh Arrondissement, and had gone to Belleville.  Amazed and confused by this intelligence, the mob followed its leaders.  Only a few minutes before it left, two guns and a mortar had been brought to fire on the prison; they were now dragged away in the wake of the Government.

The criminal prisoners at La Roquette were in a state of great excitement.  They had been liberated, and such weapons as could be found were put into their hands; but they were not inclined either to kill their fellow-captives or to fight for the Commune.  They hastily made off, shouting, “Vive la Commune!  Vive la Republique!”

By this time the prison director and his officials had disappeared.  The prison doors were open.  Then came another danger:  soldiers of the Commune, fleeing from the vengeance of the Versaillais, might seek refuge in the prison.  With much difficulty the Abbe Lamazou persuaded Poiret and some other warders who had stood with him, to close the gates till the arrival of troops from Versailles.  It was still more difficult, now that a way was open to escape, to persuade his fellow-captives to remain in prison.  Some priests would not take his advice, among them Monseigneur Surat, the vicar-general.  He had secured a suit of citizen’s clothes, and hoped to escape in safety.  In vain the Abbe Lamazou called out to him, “To go is certain death; to stay is possible safety.”  He was killed most cruelly, together with two’ priests and a layman.

At eleven o’clock at night, firing seemed to cease in the city, but outside of the prison the maddened crowd continued all night howling insults and curses.  Hours seemed ages to the anxious and now famished captives, shut up in the great building.  The barricade of the Rue de la Roquette was near them, still defended by insurgents; but in the early dawn it was abandoned, and shortly after, a battalion of marines took possession of La Roquette.  The resistance of the prisoners, which had seemed at first so desperate, had proved successful.

Innumerable other anecdotes have found their way into print concerning the last hours of the Commune; but I will rather tell of Megy, the member of the Council who, in his scarf of office, animated the party that slew the archbishop and his, five companions.

He reached New York in 1878, and, as I said, was received with an ovation by a colony of escaped Communists who had settled on our shores.  A reporter connected with the New York “World” called upon Megy, and here is his account of the interview:—­