The state journal., 1884-07-26
NUMBER 1859.

].
A Door garrett on the sixth floor OF one
of the poorest houses in the poorest
quarter of Paris, does not give much op
portunity for O detailed description.
There is little to be said about the turni-
ture, which in this case consisted of a
rickety Old table, wooden stool and a
small charcoal stove, all of the Commonest
kind, but all clean, and the room was
not quite without adOrnmcnt The
window, to be sure, was in the roof but
D inncd to the wall were il few newspaper
prints in strong blacks and whites, and -
most remarkable OF all-therc was an
alcUvc for the bed, which was carefully
shut off from the room by gaily yarie
gated chintz In spite of its poverty and
baroness there was nothing squaIid or un-
wholesome about the place.
The house itself was tall, narrow
slip. People of different callings and
different degrees Of respectability lived in
it.; on the whole it had not bad charac-
ter. The landlord was an immensely fat
man, called Plon-a name which ire
sistibly converted into Plon-PlOn seemed
to give an aristocratic air to the house
and he lived and made shoes in q small
room at the foot Of the lowest flight Of
stairs, so that he acted as his own con-
cierQe, and boosted that no one came in
or went out without his knowledge.
Probably some Of his dodgers COntrived
to eiudc his vigilance, but he was rs OBJ
stinate in his belief as an old Norman
has right to be, and was kindhearted
old fellow in the main, though with the
reputation OF a gr0gnGrd, and ridiculous
fear Of being discovered in good action
Perhaps with this fear, the more credit
was due to him for occasionally running
the risk, as when he saw young Monnier,
the artist, coming down the stairs one
evening with look in his eyes, which
Plon told himself gave him an immediate
shuddering back sensation, as of cold
water and marble slabs. PlOn did some
thing for him, perhaps knocked off the
rent, but he implOred Monnicr to show
his gratitude by saying nothing, and he
never gave him more of q greeting than
the sidelong twists he vouchsafed to the
other dodgers. For the rest, his benevo-
lencc depended in great measure upon
his temper, and he prided himself upon
being very terrible at times.
The garrct itself was inhabitated by
young widow, whose story was suifi-
ciently sad She was the daughter Of a
farmer in the north of France and married
to glazier, Jean Didier by name, with
whom she had come to Paris in search Of
work If there had been no war and
above all, no Commune, things might
have gone well with the young couple,
but, unhappi!y, one followed the other
and there was an end of peace. Jean
was no fool, but he was too certain that
he was extremely wise not to make mis-
takes, and he possessed enough of the
French nature to be easily influenced by
the brag and fine promises which filled
the air at that time. 1t is always salts
factory to reflect on changes which assure
us the highest step Of a Ladder, which
ordinarily takes a lifetime for a step.
Jean talked great deal about it, not
only to Marie, who would have been safe,
but to others who agreed with him more
thoroughly and were dangerous. Never
theless, when the Commune, in March,
1871, broke into actual life and Jean
began to see what it all meant, he WAS
terrified by the Outburst and held back.
Things which look seductive in theory
have way of losing their gloss when
they appear as hard realities, with ac-
commandments which do not belong to
the ideals and the rabble rout OF half.
drunk citizens who marched shouting
through the streets Of the Nineteenth ar
rondssement frightened Marie out Of her
senses. She clung to Jean and implored
him not to join them on pain OF break
ing her heart. TO do him justice com
mon sense, perhaps aided by desire to
keep out of the way Of rifle balls, was
proving stronger than Dombast and, to
do him justice again, he was desirous to
keep others than himself from danger.
1t was this that brought about the ca,
tastrophe. May came and with it tie
conquering troops from Versailles poured
in the city. 1t was sufficiently clear
what the end would be. jean, who
never distrusted his own reasoning
powers, insisted, in spite Of his wife's
prayers and Plons eXpostulations, in
going out intoathe streets and trying to
dissuade some of his comrades from fight
ing. He promised to return Immediately,
but did not come Marie became almost
frenzicd with terror. She would have
rushed out to seek him, but that she
knew not where 10 turn, and if he came,
wanting help and she was not there to
give it, matters might go hardly with
him. The din of the battle drew nearer,
shells were falling, bullets were whizzing
it seemed hardly possible that any one
could escape, andSyet men went by shout
inc and singing, mad with either drink
or excitement Plon, after entreatin g
Nine. Didier to come farther into shelter
shut himself in his little room with
white face, and was seen no more. Every
thing seemed to grow more horrid as the
night drew on.
At about 10 O'Clock, Plon, hearing
voices in the passage, peepcd out. There
still stood Madame Didier, wan as
ghost, but with the restless excitement
gone. A man was speaking to her-an
elderly, gIimy, frightened looking man
with Il bald head. lie was telling story
in dull, hopeless kind of way, as II at
such a time no one story was particularly
distinguished from another, and pity had
TO wait for quieter seasons.
"He was shot in the next street F.; Jean
saws he never wished to go with them,
but they forced him along. After that
he cot into a doorway, where he might
have hidden himself, but Fort saw him
and denounced him. Fort might have
left him alone, as it was he your husband