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Updated: May 27, 2025
By the flash they again saw Dussoubs, he was close to the barricade, he had almost reached it, he was walking towards it with his arms stretched out like Christ. Suddenly the word of command, "Fire!" was heard. A fusillade burst forth. They had fired upon Dussoubs when he was at the muzzles of their guns. Dussoubs fell. Then he raised himself and cried, "Long live the Republic!"
The livid half-light that crept in through latticed and barred windows disclosed a family circle at which there often assembled eloquent orators, among others Crémieux, and powerful and charming writers, including Peyrat. One day Michel de Bourges brought to us Gaston Dussoubs. Gaston Dussoubs lived in the Faubourg St. Germain, near the Assembly.
M.R., an honest man, did not hesitate. He answered, "I am going to the Council of State to do my duty. It is a Crime." X. shook his head, and said, "We must wait and see." This I am waiting, and We must see, preoccupied Louis Bonaparte. Morny said, "Let us make use of the flying squadron." Gaston Dussoubs was one of the bravest members of the Left. He was a Representative of the Haute-Vienne.
"Good day, Denis," said he. "Call me, Gaston," said the man. "Why?" "Because " "Are you your brother?" "Yes, I am my brother. For to-day." "Very well. Good-day, Gaston." They heartily shook hands. It was Denis Dussoubs. He was pale, calm, and bleeding; he had already been fighting during the morning.
I live here to a complete solitude. I believe you, Marie...." Charpentier's note-book only contained this line, which he had written in the darkness at the foot of the barricade while Denis Dussoubs was speaking: Admonet et magna testatur voce per umbras. February 18. Louvain. Yvan had again seen Conneau.
From the barricade all eyes followed him with an inexpressible anxiety. Hearts ceased beating, mouths no longer breathed. No one attempted to restrain Denis Dussoubs. Each felt that he was going where he ought to go. Charpentier wished to accompany him. "Would you like me to go with you?" he cried out to him. Dussoubs refused, with a shake of the head.
The insurgent of the Elysée thought that he had killed a Representative of the People, and boasted of it. When those on the barricade of the Petit Carreau saw Dussoubs fall, so gloriously for his friends, so shamefully for his murderers, a moment of stupor ensued. Was it possible? Did they really see this before them? Such a crime committed by our soldiers? Horror filled every soul.
It appears that while Dussoubs was speaking, fifteen grenadiers, commanded by a sergeant named Pitrois, had succeeded in gliding in the darkness along the houses, and, unperceived and unheard, had taken up their position close to the barricade. These fifteen men suddenly formed themselves together with lowered bayonets at twenty paces from the barricade ready to scale it. A volley received them.
What he had premeditated was about to be accomplished; the hour of the heroic falsehood had arrived. He cried out, "Soldiers, do you know what the man is who is speaking to you at this moment? He is not only a citizen, he is a Legislator! He is a Representative chosen by Universal Suffrage! My name is Dussoubs, and I am a Representative of the People.
We turn R. by the Rue Française, again R. by the Rue Tiquetonne, then L. by the curious Rue Dussoubs to the new Rue Réamur, where on the opposite side, to the L., is the narrow passage between Nos. 100 and 102 that leads to the once notorious Cour des Miracles, so vividly portrayed in Victor Hugo's Notre Dame.
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