"'You tolerate such a Government! You are willing that it should continue to rule you—to betray you! No, no! A thousand times no. You will sweep it away and govern Paris by yourselves. But there is no time to lose. To the Hôtel de Ville, my comrades! To the Hôtel de Ville!'
"Tame words, you may think, as I recite them to you now, in times of peace; but then they were burning words that caused men's blood to boil.
"'To the Hôtel de Ville!' the Belleville workmen echoed, and the mob became organic, and we marched.
"Imagine that march! Beginning as a small procession, it grew into a mighty mob, with red flags flying and a brass band playing; and at the head of it, Fifine and I walked, arm-in-arm. She was afraid, but she was curious; her curiosity was stronger than her fears. Ah, she was a true woman, was Fifine!
"'Oh! it is wonderful,' she kept repeating. 'I suppose it is wrong; but it is wonderful, all the same.'
"And no one laughed to see her. For those were sentimental days, when every revolutionist rejoiced to have a woman associated with him in his enterprise. It was as though some master of the ceremonies had said—
"'Your partners, gentlemen! Take your partners for the Carmagnole.'
"So we swayed on, in ever-swelling numbers, until the Hôtel de Ville was reached. A crowd was already besieging its doors and swarming up its stairs. It seemed, for the moment, as though I—I who had instigated this revolution—should be unable to get access to the building. But I called in a commanding tone—
"'Room there! Room for a lady! Room for Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski!'
"They fell back, as far as it was possible, and cleared a space for me. With Fifine still upon my arm, I jostled my way into the famous Hall of the Mayors. It took time, but at last we got there. Let me try and draw the picture for you.