The first update

The crowd in St. Martin's was clearly divided into two factions, with the sad-faced faces of the followers of Marxism, who found themselves allied with Proudhon and the rest of the bourgeois democrats. They oppose violent workers-led revolution and fantasize about coexistence through class reconciliation. The Proudhonists were overjoyed, and the old Chartists, through private contacts, decided to unite to kill the Marxists first, and then negotiate a programme to manipulate the workers' international organization and to exclude Marx from the ranks of the revolution.

Just when everyone was about to realize their dreams, Proudhon, who had just left the meeting for a while and returned, lost his previous smug look, and was replaced by a miserable face like ashes. He conveyed the bad news to the crowd that Proudhon had temporarily withdrawn from the Workers' International Congress.

"For some reason, I have to withdraw from the workers' congress for the time being, and I thank you for your attention, goodbye."

He didn't even explain any reason, he just walked out of the meeting, leaving a group of people stunned in place, what the hell is going on? The confidence that the last second was still the confidence to win, and this second it was all lost?

The Marxist, who had a gloomy look on his face just now, suddenly had a light in his eyes at this moment, and saw hope in a desperate situation. The man who had given them hope, however, was now standing in the shadow behind the marble columns of St. Martin's Church, surveying the whole meeting.

With Proudhon's exit, the entire conference hall exploded in an instant, and then gossip eroded everything like a virus like white paper sprinkled in the sky.

Napoleon suddenly issued an order representing all the Proudhonists operating in Paris, and considered Proudhon and Bakunin as anti-imperial rebels, and issued a warrant for their arrest.

A triumphant smile appeared on Marx's tired face, he patted Engels on the shoulder, and said excitedly, "Did you see that? We won. ”

"Well, this victory is really timely."

Engels looked at Garion on the side with great seriousness, and the other party also happened to look up at him, and the two smiled heartily, and everything was silent.

Overnight, Proudhon's painstakingly managed everything was in ruins, and he had almost even taken the party and factional power in the Senate, and now he had to send telegrams everywhere to evacuate the rest of the people from Paris and make other plans.

Proudhon was now confined to an apartment in London, slumped in his chair and watched his success.

"It's all over."

He muttered to himself, "I've lost nothing." ”

"No!"

As a loyal follower of Proudhon, Bakunin did not see it that way, "At least we have to make the perpetrators pay the price, I have sent a telegram to Paris to spread the news of Garion's participation in the conspiracy of the revolutionary party, and if Napoleon III knew that there was a ghost lurking around him, he would have suffered worse than us." ”

Bakunin gave a sinister smile, since Galian had eliminated Proudhon with the help of Napoleon III, then they had also staged the same scene of killing with a knife.

However, except for the emperor himself, no one else knew the undercover secret of the three chapters of the covenant between Garion and Napoleon III.

"Bakunin, I vaguely feel that this matter is not so simple."

Proudhon bit his finger and frowned, "That Garion is not an ordinary writer, nor is he an ordinary apostate. ”

Having lost Proudhon's backbone, the class-conciliating democrats began to turn to support the Marxists. After the grass on the wall was pressed to the other side by the wind, only the Chartist was left alone, and he could only surrender to Marx.

In this way, Marx, having done nothing, instead gained absolute leadership of the Communist International. When later textbooks describe the victory of Marx and his comrades over Proudhon, the Chartists and the Blanquists of the bourgeois democratic tendencies, the greatest achievement behind the scenes is only a slight smile and a turn away, hiding the merit and fame.

Meanwhile, in Paris, a bloody horror is underway. The police and gendarmes violently smashed open the gates, dragged Proudhon's supporters out of their beds and threw them directly into the carriage. Some of the guys who were still asleep did not expect the catastrophe to come, and were brutally dragged out into the street.

All of a sudden, the whole Parisian people were panicked and everyone was in danger. Proudhon's supporters, who carried the emperor's wrath, had only one fate.

Execute.

The revolutionary parties that had been expelled before were miraculously lucky compared to the fate of the Proudhonists.

Persini, the Minister of the Interior, was on his way to the Tuileries Palace in a carriage, and along the way he saw a number of Proudhonists who had been forcibly separated from their families, and the gendarmes and police escorted the prisoners away in despair amid the desperate cries of women, children and children.

Looking at the carriage that was moving away in the opposite direction, Percini sighed.

Overnight, the active Proudhonists dissipated, and they had even reached an agreement with the "Liberal Alliance" to allow the Proudhonists to enter the Parliament, but they were arrested before they were complacent.

The arrest of the Proudhonists was a wake-up call to the former republican opposition, which many saw as a signal from Napoleon III that he had had had enough of the petty maneuvers behind the Duke's palace and that if anyone dared to act rashly, Proudhon would be their fate.

Simon of the Republicans, Thiers of the Orleans dynasty, and Montalembert of the Catholic forces all died down and did not dare to make a mistake.

It can be said that Napoleon III was clumsy in diplomacy and average in domestic affairs, but when it came to murder, he was familiar with the army.

The Emperor was furious.

Percini could even feel the clouds over the Tuileries Palace, interspersed with lightning and flint.

But there is something more important about his trip to the Tuileries Palace today.

He had in his hand a telegram, a gift from a friend in London, which was enough to add another handful of dry wood to the head of the furious Napoleon III.

"Garian attended the Congress of the Workers' International, and there was a traitor within the government of Paris."

"Hey."

Interior Secretary Percini closed his eyes, but there was a burst of ecstasy in his heart, and the corners of his mouth even rose in a faint arc.

"Unexpectedly, we have a traitor in the middle."