On the 20th day of March, namely two days after the business with the cannons where he had distinguished himself, he had received a summons from his father accompanied by numerous threats calling for him to return to Saint-Germain-en-Laye. In response, he had enlisted in the National Guard, ready to lay down his life for the Commune, and this time they had accepted him. Needless to say, his family had not taken kindly to his decision and had resolved to cut him off completely. He had not removed his Communard uniform since, except for this foolish christening where he had appeared in civilian dress so he would go unremarked.

. . . qui conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, natus ex Maria Virgine, passus sub Pontio Pilato, crucifixus, mortuus, et sepultus, descendit ad inferos ...

On the 25th, he had received a note from his aunt informing him of the appearance of Corentine Malgorn at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, as well as the resulting enormous family dispute as to the balance payment for his replacement: Ferdinand and Jules on the one hand, Casimir and his wife on the other, and Berthe in the middle of it all, unable to stop weeping and feeling faint: Clothilde had found it all highly entertaining and had defended the war widow’s interests tooth and nail, good patriot that she was. Her little note had concluded with these few mysterious sentences: She speaks French and can thus provide you with more information as to the identity of the man who died in your stead. I know it means a good deal to you. For pity’s sake, refrain from the foolish act I suspect you will be tempted to commit. It was followed by the address of a boarding house in Montparnasse.

. . . tertia die resurrexit a mortuis, ascendit ad caelos, sedet ad dexteram...

With an elbow to his ribs, the mother of his son called him to order as he massacred the Credo with his out of time and incomprehensible monotonous chanting.

. . . Dei Patris omnipotentis, inde venturus est iudicare vivos et mortuos.

He had set off immediately to look for the address she had provided and it was only when he saw her standing before him, on the verge of giving birth, that he understood his aunt’s message. Happiness had radiated from him like the sun.

While the fiacre waited outside her boarding house, Auguste deployed a wealth of imagination to persuade her to follow him to his aunt’s residence, but she contented herself with listening to him with her arms crossed without so much as raising an eyebrow. Nonetheless, after half an hour of to-ing and fro-ing, it was the words water closet with running water that won the day and meant he could bring the young widow back to Rue du 4 Septembre, where she gave birth to a son.