In mismatching, color-washed and weathered
uniforms, a trio of depressed National Guard soldiers slowly dredged across the
empty streets of downtrodden Paris.
It was the early morning of Wednesday,
May 10, 1871.
No sooner had the trio crossed the
intersection of Rue de Rivoli and Boulevard de Sebastopol, than a bearded man
dressed in white appeared, out of the blue, in front of them.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” exclaimed Pierre Moreau—the
young good-looking son of a wealthy soap factory owner, now a drafted soldier. His
fellows, both volunteers since last September, frowned at the supplication
betraying the kid’s catholic affliction. One of them, Alexandre Dupont, a
Jacobin Republican and previously a book editor, was a Deist, while Gerard Roche,
the other comrade, and commander of the trio, previously a factory accountant,
was a radical socialist, and an atheist. Moreau bowed subjectedly, and loitered
behind.
