to be drawn from the proposal. 'A delegate!' said he; never! never! I could only accept one man, because I believe him to be honest—because I know his intelligence and integrity—because he will assist me in saving this great establishment, on the fortune of which . . . etc. Is it not true, my friend, that you will lend me a hand for that patriotic duty?' The other, puffed up with vanity and contentment, promised everything asked; in fact, he was cajoled. He made himself, in reality, extremely useful in the incessant struggle sustained daily during two months against all the men in authority, who were constantly quarreling amongst themselves—the Commune, the Central Committee, and the Committee of Public Safety—but who were all agreed on one point—to appropriate the baker's bread. Therefore, a morsel was given them from day to day—the smallest possible. The first was six millions, which had been previously deposited by the city. There were no means of resistance. Afterwards M. Thiers authorized the payment, on account, of such sums as might be necessary to save the situation, and they were disputed inch by inch.
"Ultimately, the men of the Hotel de Ville were overcome by their impatience, and one day Varlin and Jourde, the two delegates to the Finance, presented themselves, wearing their terrible red scarfs, and fully decided to exact everything, and threatening, if they were refused, to get up a riot in the faubourgs. The sub-Governor, who had been informed of their arrival by Beslay, said: 'Do what you like; but understand, the day you lay your hands upon the Bank of France, its notes will not be worth more than the old assignats. All your National Guards have their pockets full of twenty-franc notes, and you will ruin them at one blow; for, the security once destroyed by you, no one will give five sous for the paper.' That argument, so forcibly advanced, seemed to make an impression on
