the tricolored flag. Everywhere the walls bore traces of the recent struggle; bullet-holes, large pieces torn away by the bursting of a shell, or the marks of a conflagration which the Communists had endeavored to ignite in retreating.
The arrests still continued. Numerous denunciations were hourly made against former Communists. These denunciations were mostly made by women—a fact which was also to be remarked under the Commune, in regard to the Versaillese and suspected persons. The streets were, consequently, here and there dotted with detachments of three or four National Guards, who had just captured a Communist, and were leading him away. With regard to incendiaries, no pity was shown. Any individual, man or woman, found carrying a bottle of petroleum, was instantly shot.
The prisoners taken were directed on different points of Paris, such as the theatre of the Châtelet, and from there, if not condemned by the Grand Provost, were conducted to Versailles.
The number of insurgents slain in the contest was incalculable. During the first few days they were buried anywhere and everywhere—on the banks of the Seine, in the public squares, at the foot of the barricades—in order to prevent a too rapid decomposition from their contact with the air.
The aspect of Paris at night during this time was particularly mournful.
Usually, at this season of the year, night seems turned into day; the cafés and restaurants are brilliantly lighted and crowded with loungers; the little chairs and tables in front of these establishments all have their occupants, and threaten shortly, from their increasing number, to drive the crowd of promenaders from the sidewalk into the street. Night is the city's brightest and gayest time; one
