"'We receive the papers,' he said. 'Ah! I wish you would bring me the Grandeur et la Décadence des Romains, by Montesquieu.'
"'Willingly, Monsieur le Curé; I will bring it Tuesday when I return to see you.'
"'You can return?'
"'Assuredly; as often as I wish. My permission is not limited.'
"'Ah! I am very happy to hear it, very happy. How I thank you!' and tears stood in his eyes.
"I had risen. In taking the few steps that separated us from the door, he held my hand. Arrived at the end, he said:
"'Allons, dear friend, take my regards to your mother. You will tell her that I cried,' and he embraced me, sobbing.
"He recovered himself in a moment, and said:
"'Allons, allons, until Tuesday. Don't forget my book.'"
Notwithstanding the violences of which the insurrectional
government had proved itself capable, no one believed
that they would go so far as to assassinate the hostages.
Assassination it must be called, for there is no
other name with which to qualify executions made without
any motive of accusation, without judgment, without
even an interrogatory. There is, however, a state of
furious exaltation which, passing a certain degree, becomes
delirium, a bloody frenzy. When this exaltation,
mingled with emphatic phrases, with words of right, of
emancipation, and of social enfranchisement repeated far
beyond their true signification, gains an ignorant crowd,
spoiled by vanity and envy, then indeed the worst results
are to be anticipated; then the conscience becomes mute,
all notions of equity are effaced, and the passions have full
sway without any curb to restrain them.
