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of arms formed of wooden broadswords, canes, clubs, and
foils. One day, the buttons were removed from the foils.
A workman said: ‘There are twenty-five of us, but they
don’t count on me, because I am looked upon as a machine.’
Later on, that machine became Quenisset.
The indefinite things which were brewing gradually ac-
quired a strange and indescribable notoriety. A woman
sweeping off her doorsteps said to another woman: ‘For a
long time, there has been a strong force busy making car-
tridges.’ In the open street, proclamation could be seen
addressed to the National Guard in the departments. One
of these proclamations was signed: Burtot, wine-merchant.
One day a man with his beard worn like a collar and with
an Italian accent mounted a stone post at the door of a li-
quor-seller in the Marche Lenoir, and read aloud a singular
document, which seemed to emanate from an occult power.
Groups formed around him, and applauded.
The passages which touched the crowd most deeply
were collected and noted down. ‘—Our doctrines are tram-
melled, our proclamations torn, our bill-stickers are spied
upon and thrown into prison.’—‘The breakdown which has
recently taken place in cottons has converted to us many
mediums.’—‘The future of nations is being worked out in
our obscure ranks.’—‘ Here are the fixed terms: action or
reaction, revolution or counter-revolution. For, at our ep-
och, we no longer believe either in inertia or in immobility.
For the people against the people, that is the question. There
is no other.’—‘On the day when we cease to suit you, break
us, but up to that day, help us to march on.’ All this in broad