but of ferocious character, named Serizier.  He was in the habit of saying, as he looked from his window into the garden of the Dominicans, “Those rascals ought to be roasted alive.”  On May 17 the roof of the building in which he lived caught fire.  The Dominicans tucked up their gowns and did their best to put it out.  When all was over, they were ordered to wait upon the general.  They supposed that they were going to be thanked for their exertions, and were amazed at finding themselves accused of having set the building on fire as a signal to the Versaillais.  The next morning a battalion of Communist soldiers surrounded their convent.  The prior, his monks, pupils, and servants, were arrested and marched to a casemate of a neighboring fort.  Their convent was stripped of everything.  The building, however, was saved by a ruse on the part of an officer of the Commune, one of the better class.  They were two days without food, and were then driven into Paris like a flock of sheep, their black-and-white dress exposing them to all the insults and ribaldry of the excited multitude; for the Versaillais were in Paris, and hope, among those who knew the situation, was drawing to an end.  That night the Dominicans were confined in a prison on the Avenue d’Italie, where a friend of Serizier’s (known as Bobeche) was instructed what to do with them.  During the morning, however, Bobeche went to a drinking saloon, and while there the man he left in charge received orders to send the priests to work on a barricade.  He affected to misunderstand the order, and sent, instead, fifteen National Guards imprisoned for insubordination.  When Bobeche came back, half-drunk, he was furious.  “What! was the blood of priests to be spared, and that of patriots imperilled at a post of danger?” Before long the order was repeated.  “We will tend your wounded, General,” said the prior, “we will go after them under fire, but we will not do the work of soldiers for you.”  At this, soldiers were called out to shoot the Dominicans.  They were reluctant to obey, and Serizier dared not risk disobedience.  The fathers were remanded to prison, but were soon called out one by one.  Some volunteers had been found willing to do the shooting, among them two women, the fiercest of the band.  As the fathers came into the street, all were shot at, but some were untouched; and soon succeeded a dreadful scene.  Round and round the open square, and up side streets, they were hunted.  Four of the twenty escaped.  Men laughed and women clapped their hands at seeing the priests run.  Then Serizier went back to the prison, and was making preparations to shoot the remaining prisoners, who were laymen, when one of his subordinates leaned over him and whispered that the troops of Versailles were at hand.  He dropped his papers and made off.  The troops came on, and picked up the bodies of the dead Dominicans.  Serizier was not arrested till some months after, when the wife of one of his victims, who had dogged him constantly after her husband’s death, discovered him in disguise and gave him up to justice.