The old republicans in their implacable struggle with the Emperor, the
companies of the International which had just been organized, and a
great number of Italians and Spaniards who had fled their countries on
account of recent insurrections, composed the procession. A long-haired,
consumptive student was carrying the flag. "It is peace that we want--a
peace which may unite all mankind," chanted the paraders. But on this
earth, the noblest propositions are seldom heard, since Destiny amuses
herself in perverting them and turning them aside.
Scarcely had the friends of peace entered the rue Cannebiere with their
hymn and standard, when war came to meet them, obliging them to resort
to fist and club. The day before, some battalions of Zouaves from
Algiers had disembarked in order to reinforce the army on the
frontier, and these veterans, accustomed to colonial existence and
undiscriminating as to the cause of disturbances, seized the opportunity
to intervene in this manifestation, some with bayonets and others with
ungirded belts. "Hurrah for War!" and a rain of lashes and blows
fell upon the unarmed singers. Marcelo saw the innocent student, the
standard-bearer of peace, knocked down wrapped in his flag, by the
merry kicks of the Zouaves. Then he knew no more, since he had received
various blows with a leather strap, and a knife thrust in his shoulder;
he had to run the same as the others.
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