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Updated: May 2, 2025
"I am called Georges de Biscarrat." "Oh!" cried Porthos, in his turn. "Biscarrat! Do you remember that name, Aramis?" "Biscarrat!" reflected the bishop. "It seems to me " "Try to recollect, monsieur," said the officer. "Pardieu! that won't take me long," said Porthos.
At the first door adjoining the Rue du Hasard-Saint-Sauveur they requisitioned iron bars and hammers from a large courtyard belonging to a locksmith. Having the arms, they had the men. They speedily numbered a hundred. They began to tear up the pavements. It was half-past ten. "Quick! quick!" cried Georges Biscarrat, "the barricade of my dreams!" It was in the Rue Thévenot.
"No, for here he is look." In fact, Biscarrat appeared at the opening of the grotto. "He is making a sign to come on," said the officer. "Come on!" "Come on!" cried all the troop. And they advanced to meet Biscarrat. "Monsieur," said the captain, addressing Biscarrat, "I am assured that you know who the men are in that grotto, and who make such a desperate defense.
However brave the young man might be, he could not prevent a cry escaping him, which Aramis immediately suppressed by placing a handkerchief over his mouth. "Monsieur de Biscarrat," said he, in a low voice, "we mean you no harm, and you must know that if you have recognized us; but, at the first word, the first groan, the first whisper, we shall be forced to kill you as we have killed your dogs."
"Does any one know Victor Hugo's handwriting?" "I do," said Biscarrat. He looked at the paper. It was my proclamation to the army. "This must be printed," said Petit. "I will undertake it," said Biscarrat. Antoine Bard asked him, "Do you know Victor Hugo?" "He saved my life," answered Biscarrat. The Representatives shook hands with him. Guilgot arrived. Then Versigny. Versigny knew Biscarrat.
At the same instant, Yves lifted a knife against the young man, which was about to fall upon him with all force of a Breton's arm, when the iron wrist of Porthos stopped it half-way. Then, like low muttering thunder, his voice growled in the darkness, "I will not have him killed!" Biscarrat found himself between a protection and a threat, the one almost as terrible as the other.
Biscarrat, repulsed by his friends, unable to accompany them, without passing in the eyes of Porthos and Aramis for a traitor and a perjurer, with painfully attentive ear and unconsciously supplicating hands leaned against the rough side of a rock which he thought must be exposed to the fire of the musketeers.
The barrier was constructed high and formidable. To abridge. At eleven o'clock Georges Biscarrat had completed his barricade. At noon he was killed there. Arrests grew more numerous. Towards noon a Commissary of Police, named Boudrot, appeared at the divan of the Rue Lepelletier. He was accompanied by the police agent Delahodde.
They enveloped the drum in it, and reached Batignolles by the lonely streets which skirt the walls. Georges Biscarrat was the man who had given the signal for the looting in the Rue de l'Echelle. I had known Georges Biscarrat ever since June, 1848. He had taken part in that disastrous insurrection. I had had an opportunity of being useful to him.
"But, at least, tell us who is there?" cried several furious voices. Biscarrat remained silent. "Tell us, or die!" cried the wounded man, raising himself upon one knee, and lifting towards his companion an arm bearing a useless sword. Biscarrat rushed towards him, opening his breast for the blow, but the wounded man fell back not to rise again, uttering a groan which was his last.
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