“The next morning, May 27, at dawn, ten soldiers, with an officer at their head, began calling by name eight or ten prisoners at a time from one of our places of confinement, and they were dragged away, God knows where.  Utter dejection and despair were depicted on the face of every man, especially on those who had been seized on the barricades or in uniform.  That afternoon I was called out, being part of a batch of nine prisoners, mostly in plain clothes.  On that day rain fell incessantly.  We thought as we marched through the mud and drizzle that we were going to be shot en masse without any further trial; but on reaching the Champ de Mars, our escort was ordered to take us to the barracks that are near it.  There our names were taken down by an officer, and we were locked up in a room where seven other prisoners had already been confined.  It would be too horrible to relate the filth and closeness of that place, which might have held seven or eight people, and we were sixteen!  There was a board fitted between two walls where seven people could lie.  This was appropriated before we got there.  We were forced to stand up or to lie down on the stones, which were damp and inexpressibly dirty.  We remained thus for two days.  On the 29th the door opened at seven A. M. Eight soldiers were drawn up outside.  The sergeant called out one of the prisoners named Lefevre, who wore a National Guard’s uniform.  The poor fellow stepped out between the two lines of soldiers, and the door closed on him.  He was taken before the colonel, who was instructed to examine the prisoners, and had the discretionary power of ordering them to be shot on the spot, or of sending them to Versailles to appear before the superior commission, by whom they were either set at liberty or sentenced to transportation.  Poor Lefevre was not heard of again.  We thought we heard a brisk volley of musketry in the large courtyard, but we had been so accustomed to such noises that it did not attract general attention.  Later in the day another prisoner was called out in the same manner, and he came back no more; this time the noise of the discharge was distinct, and made us alive to the imminence of our fate.  On the third prisoner being called out, he refused to go.  Two soldiers had to take him by force.  He fought desperately for his life.  The door was shut.  We had not long to wait; the discharge of musketry re-echoed in our cell, and caused within it such a scene of despair as baffles description.

“Next day four men were taken out and executed, which reduced our number to nine.  By this time we had recovered from the shots and heeded little what was going to take place, as every one of us had bidden adieu to this world and made his peace with God.