CHAPTER I

M. Thiers' way of writing history--Republicans at the Palais-Royal--Louis-Philippe's first ministry--Casimir Périer's cunning--My finest drama--Lothon and Charras--A Sword-thrust--The Posting-Master of Bourget once more--La Fère--Lieutenant-Colonel Duriveau--Lothon and General La Fayette.

Whilst the Duc d'Orléans was making his triumphal and happy entry into the Palais-Royal, six or eight young men were gathered together above the offices of the _National_ in the set of rooms shared by Paulin and Gauja. They were looking at one another in silence--a silence all the more threatening since they were still armed as on the day of battle. These young men were Thomas, Bastide, Chevalon, Grouvelle, Bonvilliers, Godefroy Cavaignac, Étienne Arago, Guinard, and, possibly, a few others whose names have escaped me. According to the measure of their impatience, they were either seated or standing. Thomas was seated in the embrasure of a window, with his fowling-piece between his legs. He was at that period a fine, handsome fellow, brimming over with loyalty, courage and ingenuousness, with a cool head and a warm heart. So there they all were relating the episode of the Odyssey of the Hôtel de Ville, and M. Thiers came in while they were discussing the situation.

That morning an article had appeared in the _National_ on the arrest of the Duc de Chartres at Montrouge. This article put the whole thing in a perfectly new light. The Duc de Chartres had visited Paris to lay his sword at the disposition of the Provisional Government, and M. Lhuillier had offered him hospitality. The duke had left Montrouge filled with enthusiasm with regard to the events happening in Paris, and had promised to return with his own regiment.

A few days later, M. Lhuillier was decorated in recognition of this article. It was really written by M. Thiers. The appearance, therefore, of the future minister in the midst of this handful of Republicans was not very auspicious. He had completely revealed his tactics since the previous morning, and was now an Orléaniste. In this new character he was uneasy at the meeting going on above his head, and decided to take the bull by the horns; so he ascended to the first floor and entered, as we have seen, unannounced. A significant murmur greeted his coming, but M. Thiers met it with audacity.

"Messieurs," he said, "the Lieutenant-General wishes to have an interview with you."

"For what purpose?" asked Cavaignac.

"What have we and he in common?" asked Bastide.

"Listen, though, gentlemen," said Thomas.

M. Thiers thereupon fancied he had found a supporter, advanced to Thomas and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Here we have a first-rate colonel," he said.

"Oh! indeed!" replied Thomas, gently shaking his shoulder; "so you are by way of mistaking me for a turncoat?"

M. Thiers withdrew his hand.

"Proceed," said Thomas; "we will listen to you."

M. Thiers then explained the object of the interview.

The Duc d'Orléans wished to further his future political influence, by taking counsel with these brave young fellows whose heroic insurrection had brought about the Revolution of July. According to the statement made by M. Thiers, he should expect them between eight and nine that night at the Palais-Royal. The Republicans shook their heads. To place foot inside the Palais-Royal seemed to them equivalent to entering into compact with the new powers, which was contrary both to their conscience and to their inclinations. But Thomas again came to the aid of the negotiator.

"Look here," he said, rising, "let us prove to them we are all right."

And, laying his gun in the chimney-corner, he said--

"At nine o'clock to-night, monsieur ... you can tell the Lieutenant-General of the kingdom that we will appear in answer to his invitation."

Thereupon M. Thiers went away.

There had been no such thing as an invitation from the Lieutenant-General of the kingdom; that gentleman had not the least desire to see MM. Thomas, Bastide, Chevalon, Grouvelle, Bonvilliers, Cavaignac, Arago and Guinard. M. Thiers had evolved the idea entirely out of his own head, hoping that an interview might conciliate their opinions. It will have been observed, from what he had said to Thomas, that by opinions he meant ambitions.

The Republicans were punctual to their engagement that night. The Duchesse d'Orléans, Madame Adélaide and the young princes and princesses had just arrived, when the Duc d'Orléans was informed that a deputation awaited him in the large Council Chamber. Deputations had succeeded one another all day long, and the salons were still not empty.

So another deputation was no surprise to the prince; though he was surprised by the personnel of this particular one.

M. Thiers was there. As he accompanied His Highness from the salon to the chamber where the gentlemen were awaiting him, he endeavoured to put him into possession of the situation, taking half of the responsibility upon himself, and crediting the Republicans with the remainder. This had occupied nearly a quarter of an hour, during which time the deputation was kept waiting, and it began to find the wait rather long. Then the door suddenly opened, and the duke entered with a smile upon his lips; but it had not time to mount as far as his eyes; his mouth smiled, but his expression was questioning.

"Gentlemen," said the prince, "do not doubt my pleasure in receiving this visit from you--only ..."

Bastide guessed the truth, and looked at M. Thiers.

"You do not understand why we came? Ask M. Thiers to give you the true explanation, and I am sure he will be pleased to make it, if only to save the honour and dignity of the cause we represent."

M. Thiers made some equivocal explanation or other, much embarrassed, which the Duc d'Orléans cut short by saying--

"That will do, monsieur, that will do. I thank you for procuring me the visit of these, our brave defenders."

Then, turning to them, he waited for one of them to begin. Bonvilliers was the first to speak.

"Prince," he said, "to-morrow you will be king."

The Duc d'Orléans made a movement.

"To-morrow, monsieur?" he said.

"Well, if not to-morrow, it will be either in three days' time or a week ... the actual day is of little consequence."

"King!" repeated the Duc d'Orléans after him; "who told you that, monsieur?"

"The steps your partisans are taking; the coercion they are exercising upon affairs, not daring to exercise it openly upon men; the placards with which they have covered the walls; the money they are distributing in the streets."

"I do not know what my partisans may be doing," the duke replied; "but I know I have never aspired to the crown, and even now, although I am being urged by many to accept it, I do not desire it."

"Nevertheless, monseigneur, let us suppose that they will urge you to such an extent that you will not be able to refuse, may we, in that case, ask your views on the treaties of 1815? Pay particular attention to the fact that it is not merely a Liberal revolution that has just taken place, but a national one; it has been the sight of the tricolour flag which has roused the people; we have been firing off the last mine of Waterloo, and it will be easier to drive the people across the Rhine than to Saint-Cloud."[1]

"Gentlemen," replied the duke, "I am too loyal a Frenchman and patriot to be a partisan to the treaties of 1815; but I believe France is tired of warfare; the rupture of treaties means a European war.... Believe me, it is most important to be very circumspect with regard to foreign powers, and there are certain sentiments which should not be expressed too openly."

"Let us then pass on to the aristocracy."

"Very well."

The duke bit his lips like one accustomed to question, who is compelled in his turn to submit to a cross-examination.

"The aristocracy, you will be compelled to agree," continued Bonvilliers, "has no longer any hold on society. The Code, in abolishing the right of primogeniture, of trusts and of entailed estates and by dividing inheritances to perpetuity has nipped aristocracy in the bud, and hereditary nobility has had its day. Perhaps, gentlemen, you are mistaken in this question of heredity, which is, according to my opinion, the sole source of independence underlying political institutions.... A man who is sure of coming in to his father's inheritance need not be afraid of having an opinion of his own, whereas the man to be elected will hold whatever opinions are imposed on him. But it is a question worth consideration, and, if hereditary nobility really crumbles away, _I shall not be the one to build it up again at my own expense._"

"Prince," Bastide then replied, "I believe in the interest of the crown offered you; it will be as well to call together the Primary Assemblies."

"The Primary Assemblies?" said the duke, shuddering. "Now, indeed, I know that I am conversing with Republicans."

The young men bowed; they had come less in the spirit of allies than of enmity: they accepted instead of rejecting the qualification. Their intention was to define the situation between themselves and the ruling power as clearly as possible.

"Frankly, gentlemen," said the duke, "do you believe a Republic is possible in a country like ours?"

"We think that there is no country where the good cannot be substituted for the bad."

The duke shook his head.

"I thought that 1793 had given France a lesson from which she might have profited."

"Monsieur," said Cavaignac, "you know just as well as we do that 1793 was a Revolution and not a Republic. Besides," he continued, in strong tones and with a clear utterance which did not allow a single syllable of what he said to be lost, "so far as I can recollect, the events which transpired between 1789 and 1793 obtained your entire adhesion.... You belonged to the Society of the Jacobins?"

There was no room for him to shrink back; the veil over the past was rudely torn down, and the future King of France appeared between Robespierre and Collot-d'Herbois.

"Yes, true," said the duke, "I did belong to the Society of the Jacobins; but, happily, I was not a member of the Convention."

"Both your father and mine were, though, monsieur," said Cavaignac, "and both of them voted for the death of the king."

"It is exactly on that account, Monsieur Cavaignac," replied the duke, "that I do not hesitate to say what I have said.... I think that the son of Philippe-Égalité should be permitted to express his opinion upon the regicides. Besides, my father has been grossly calumniated; he was one of the men most worthy of respect that I have ever known!"

"Monseigneur," replied Bonvilliers, who realised that if he did not interrupt the conversation, it would degenerate into mere personalities, "we have still another fear...."

"What is it, gentlemen?" asked the prince. "Oh! say it out whilst you are about it."

"Well, we are afraid (and we have reason for so being), we are afraid, I say, of seeing the Royalists and the priests block the avenues to the new régime."

"Oh! as to those people," exclaimed the prince, with an almost menacing gesture, "set your minds at rest; they have given too many hard knocks to our House for me to forget them! Half the calumnies to which I have referred came from them; an eternal barrier separates us.... It was a good thing for the Elder Branch!"

The Republicans looked at one another in astonishment at the strong feeling, almost amounting to hatred, with which the prince uttered the words, "It was a good thing for the Elder Branch!"

"Well, gentlemen," the prince continued, "have I perchance advanced a truth which was unknown to you, in proclaiming thus openly the difference of principles and interests which have always divided the Younger Branch from the Elder, the House of Orléans from the reigning House? Oh! our hatred does not date from yesterday, gentlemen; it goes back as far as Philippe, the brother of Louis XIV.! It is like the case of my grandfather, the Regent; who was it that slandered him? The priests and the Royalists; for some day, gentlemen, when you have studied historical questions more profoundly, and dug to the roots of the tree you want to cut down, you will realise what the Regent was, and the services he rendered France by decentralising Versailles, and by making money circulate all over the country, to the extreme arteries of social life, as he did by his system of finance. Ah! I only ask one thing: if God calls upon me to reign over France, as you said just now, I hope He will grant me a portion of the Regent's genius!"

He then held forth at length upon the ameliorations to which the Regent's scheme of politics had led in the diplomatic relations of France with Europe; in connection with England, he spoke a few words showing that he should look for the same support from her as his grandfather had received.

"Pardon me, monsieur," Cavaignac said, "but I think a King of France should find his real support in his own country."

The Duc d'Orléans did not evade giving an explanation, but, with his customary facility of elocution, to do him justice, he revealed the system which afterwards gained great celebrity under the name of _Juste milieu._

Cavaignac, to whom he addressed his remarks more particularly, since he had raised the question, listened to the prince's lengthy political propositions with the utmost impassiveness. Then, when he had finished, he said--

"All right, we need not be uneasy; with such a system as that, you will not reign longer than four years!"

The duke smiled dubiously. The Republicans, who had now learnt all they wanted to know, bowed to indicate their wish to withdraw. And the prince, noticing this, returned their bow; but, not wishing to leave them the last word, he said--

"Well, gentlemen, you will come to my way of thinking.... See if you do not!"

"Never!" Cavaignac pronounced sharply.

"Never is too positive a word, and we have an old French proverb which asserts that we must not say it: Fontaine...."

But before he could finish his sentence, the deputation had already reached the door. The duke watched their retreat with a gloomy expression of countenance., This was the first cloud to darken his sun, and it contained all the constituents of the storms that were to overthrow him.

Now that we have seen both men and principles face to face, my readers will, I hope, be better able to follow the events of 5 and 6 June, 13 and 14 April, 12 May and 24 February.

Ten minutes after the withdrawal of the Republicans, they brought word to the Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom of the resignation of the members of the Municipal Commission. Underlying this resignation the Duc d'Orléans discovered the presence of a complete ministry all ready made. It was composed of the following: Dupont (of l'Eure), Minister of Justice; Baron Louis, of Finance; General Gérard, of War; Casimir Périer, Home Minister; de Rigny, of Marine; Bignon, for Foreign Affairs; Guizot, for Public Instruction. But, even before this list had reached the Palais-Royal, one of the newly appointed ministers had already sent in his resignation--namely, Casimir Périer. Casting a glance in the direction of Versailles, he had seen that Charles X., who had only just left Saint-Cloud, had not yet reached Rambouillet. It was a very bold act to show one's colours to a new Government when the old régime was still close to the new. Ambition had led him to accept his post, but fear made him decline it. M. Casimir Périer rushed off to Bonnelier and begged him to strike out his name from the list. But it was too late; the list had gone, and Bonnelier could not do anything beyond suggesting an erratum in the _Moniteur_, which Périer accepted as better than nothing. M. de Broglie's name was inserted in the place made vacant by Casimir Périer's resignation.

Was it not a strange thing that men who were to occupy high positions in the future reign dared not risk their names, when so many others who would gain nothing by the great change had been willing to risk their heads in the cause? True, those who had risked their heads had done so for France and not for Louis-Philippe.

The next morning, when I went to call on the new lieutenant-general, he was talking with Vatout and Casimir Delavigne, whom he left to come across to me. Already acquainted with my expedition to Soissons, he held out his hand and said--

"Monsieur Dumas, you have just enacted your very finest drama!"

At that moment, General La Fayette was suffering one of the most terrible assaults at the Hôtel de Ville that had hitherto been directed against him.

Now let me relate what had become of Charras and Lothon: I take some pride, as will be understood, in dwelling at greater length upon the men whose names were not to melt away with the smoke of the battlefield. We saw them leaving the Hôtel de Ville, bearers of an order from Mauguin and a proclamation from La Fayette. We forgot to tell how Lothon, whom we left on the 29th, stretched on the pavement at the Palais-Royal, happened to be at the Hôtel de Ville with Charras on the 30th. Lothon (alas! he is now dead!) was one of those rare men whose heart was as good as his head, whom powder intoxicates, who are excited by noise, and who probably love danger for its own sake more than for the honour it may bring. When Lothon had lain on the pavement for nearly an hour, he was picked up for dead; a bullet had pierced his forehead and seven others had riddled his hat, which had fallen beside him. The hat might have been taken as a target. Whilst he was being carried away to be buried along with others at the Louvre, he moved his head slightly; and this protest, feeble though it was, against being treated as was evidently intended by his bearers, proved incontestable. A soldier of the National Guard took him in, dressed his wounds, put him to bed, and then left him to go in search of news, never supposing that a man who had had his head broken by a bullet would dream of getting up to return to the firing, should there by chance be fighting still going on in any corner of Paris. However, that was Lothon's first idea. Scarcely had he recovered consciousness than he re-dressed himself, buckled on his sword again (that sword which he had seized from the properties of the théâtre de l'Odéon, as was evident from its cross handle and sheath, which had lost its leathern end), and, in spite of the outcries made by the wife of his host, he set off, stumbling like a drunken man. Charras found him that evening on returning home. Lothon could not recollect half what he had done, or anything at all of where he had been. But next day he felt well enough to rejoin Charras at the Hôtel de Ville. We have seen how they were deputed to go and fetch the 4th Regiment of artillery, in garrison at la Fère. For three days Charras had been penniless. When the insurrection had broken out he possessed fifteen francs and a bill of exchange for a hundred crowns, sent him by his father, a Paris banker; but since the 26th every bank had been closed, and if his bill had not been accepted by Laffitte, he would certainly not have obtained from the boldest bill-broker of Paris fifty francs out of his hundred crowns. Fifteen francs went on the 26th and 27th; on the 28th he got food where he could; on the 29th he dined at the Hôtel de Ville, with the rest of Paris; finally, on the morning of the 30th, Lionel de l'Aubespin, grandson of La Fayette, shared his purse with Charras. When he and Lothon started for la Fère, they found themselves the possessors of twenty francs! They could not afford to take post on that small amount; so the two heroes asked for a letter to the new director of posts, M. Chardel, who had been appointed, the day before, by Baude and Arago. By virtue of this letter, M. Chardel gave them an order to the various posting-masters along the route, putting horses at their service, and he himself gave them the two best cobs out of his stable. Charras and Lothon set off at as fast a gallop as the barricades would allow; two or three shots were fired at them because they were taken for officers of the Royal Guard attempting flight; but they reached Bourget, and drew up at the livery stables of the same posting-master who had given me horses and a carriage an hour previously.

The roads to Soissons and to la Fère both start together, and only divide at the Gonesse and at a spot called the _Patte-d'oie_; here the bifurcation on the right leads to Dammartin, Villers-Cotterets and Soissons, and the other to Senlis, Compiègne, Noyon and la Fère. The worthy patriot of whom the two young men inquired for saddle-horses perceived at once that they (Lothon especially) could not manage half that distance at full speed; he brought out a second trap, which he horsed, and he despatched them in it, wishing them God-speed. This wish, like that of "Good hunting!" no doubt brought them misfortune. Lothon was the first to get into the trap, and, to make room for Charras, he had to raise his sword. Night began to fall, and Charras, not noticing the sword, the point of which, as we have mentioned, was poking out at the end of its sheath, suddenly felt the icy cold of steel through his armpit, and tried to fling himself forward; but Lothon took him by the shoulders, thinking he had lost his footing, and tried to draw him in farther towards his side. Charras in vain shrieked, "You are killing me, I say!" but Lothon could hear nothing because of the bandage round his head, which stopped up his ear, and continued to draw him closer on the sword-point. Luckily, Charras was able to make a violent effort, tore himself out of his companion's hands and fell into the arms of the post-master, who, seeing that something extraordinary was happening inside the trap, seconded Charras's efforts by drawing him backwards. They went back into the house, and Charras took off his coat, waistcoat and shirt. The steel had penetrated an inch and a half or so under the armpit, and blood was flowing freely. They scraped some tinder and plugged the wound with a wet handkerchief, and, thanks to this apparatus, kept in its place by the wounded man's arm, the bleeding was stopped. Lothon was in a state of desperation, but, as his despair led to nothing, Charras encouraged him to give it up. As they re-entered the carriage, the post-master asked them--

"Have you any arms besides your swords?"

"Upon my word, we haven't!" they replied.

Then the post-master went to a cupboard and brought out a couple of pistols, which he loaded and pushed into the tails of Charras's coat. I should like to mention this excellent fellow's name, but who knows whether his patriotism of 1830 might not get him into trouble in 1853? The two wounded men fell asleep, ordering the postillions to put the horses between the shafts. Generally, postillions proved true patriots, and, although Charras could not give them large tips out of his twenty francs, they acquitted themselves conscientiously, by driving fast and changing horses quickly. Moreover, the post-master of Bourget had advised the two young men to send a second postillion on ahead of them; since M. Chardel's order proscribed no limits, it cost them no more to do this. All went well as far as Ribécourt. Here they woke Charras.

"What is the matter?" asked the sleeper, rubbing his eyes.

"The post-master will not give us any horses," said the head-postillion, who had been obliged to stop there because of this refusal.

"What! the post-master won't give us horses!"

"No; he says he does not know anything about the Provisional Government."

Charras, who had been hunting for it long and vainly, very nearly said he did not know anything about it either; but this was not the moment for joking; time was flying. He left Lothon still asleep, who had not heard him when he cried out, "You are killing me!" and had therefore no right to hear anything else. Leaping from the trap, he ran to the post-master, who was furious at being waked at two in the morning, and stood on his doorstep with the evident intention of contesting the point.

"So you do not intend to give me horses?" asked Charras.

"That is so."

"In spite of the order from the Director of Posts?"

"I don't know this man Chardel!"

"Ah! So you do not know Chardel?"

"No."

Charras drew the proclamation from his pocket.

"Do you know that signature?"

"La Fayette? Not any more than the other!"

"No?"

"No!"

Charras next drew his pistols from his pocket, cocking them at the same moment as he placed them against the postmaster's breast--

"Ah!... Very well, do you recognise these?" he said.

"But, monsieur," exclaimed the man, "what are you going to do?"

"Going to do? By Jove! To kill you, if you don't give me horses!"

"But, monsieur, devil take it! men do not kill people like that ... they explain things."

"Yes, when they have time, which I have not."

The postillions, ranged behind the post-master, were grinning in the shadow, rubbing their hands and making signs to Charras to stick to it. They need not have been anxious on this score.

"Well, then, monsieur, if you take up such an attitude as that, I must give you horses; but be very sure it is only because you compel me by force to do so."

"What does that matter to me so long as you give them me!"

"Horses for these gentlemen!" said the post-master, returning to his room and yielding the battlefield to Charras.

"And good ones, look you, postillions."

"Oh! don't be uneasy, young gentleman; we will see to that," replied the postillion. "Get back into your carriage and continue your nap.... You are going to Noyon?"

"To la Fère."

"It's all the same."

Charras returned to the carriage, and so great was his fatigue that he fell asleep again before the horses were harnessed. Probably the postillion kept his word, for when Charras woke again, they had passed Noyon and day had begun to appear. Annoyed at witnessing the dawn alone, he poked Lothon till he too awoke. The sky was superb, "and jocund day,"[2] to quote Shakespeare, stood "tiptoe on the misty mountain tops," ready to descend into the plain like a luminous cloud; the leaves on the trees whispered together; the golden corn swayed gracefully; and from the midst of the fast-ripening ears the lark, daughter of day, flew up with quick-beating wing, making the air resound with her clear, joyous song. The peasants opened their doors to inhale the morning breeze, and made ready to go to work or to market, to the fields or to the town.

"Diable!" exclaimed Charras. "Look at this countryside: it has not the least appearance of being in a state of revolution."

"No, indeed it has not!" replied Lothon.

"Do you suppose these folk know about Chardel, Mauguin and La Fayette?"

"I would rather not say."

"Hum!" said Charras, who fell into a train of reflection that was not exactly rose-coloured.

Lothon took advantage of Charras's ponderings to resume his slumbers. They reached Chauny. The town was just as peaceful as the villages, the streets were as quiet as the fields! As a diver can feel the temperature of the water grow colder the deeper he plunges, so the farther they advanced into the provinces did they feel an ever-increasing frigidness take the place of the feverishness of Paris. Exactly the same experience happened to Charras as did to me: he reached the gates of la Fère determined to carry out his project, but filled with doubt as to how things would turn out.

He woke Lothon, who still slept, as they came nearer to the town. Soon they would find themselves confronted by the 4th Regiment of artillery, and the situation was sufficiently serious for them to face it with an attention fully wide awake. The gate was open, and the two young fellows went straight to the guard-house overlooking the gate. Lothon, with his black bandage over his eye and his hat placed over one ear on account of his wound, looked ten years older than he really was; moreover, his sword of the time of François I. aged him by another three centuries. Charras, who had been discharged from the École polytechnique four months previously, had allowed his moustache to grow since (this would not have been allowed at the École); with his borrowed coat too long and too large for him, his policeman's sword hung round him by a shoulder-belt instead of a proper sword-belt, his trousers all covered with the blood of a Swiss soldier--who, badly injured, had thrown himself into Charras's arms to prevent being despatched completely--Charras looked far more like a bandit than an honest man. But indeed to practised eyes neither of them looked like a student of the École polytechnique. However, all went well so long as they remained in the carriage. They had lowered the hood, and the soldiers on guard could see Lothon's tricoloured cockade, and the bunch of three-coloured ribbons which Charras had exchanged for the sleeves of the Swiss, a decoration all very well in Paris, but too eccentric for the provinces. The magic colours produced their usual effect: the sentinel presented arms, and the quarter-master who answered the summons addressed Lothon as _mon officier._

"Well!" said Charras to Lothon, "so far things don't seem to be going badly."

"Yes," said Lothon, "but it is with the colonel we shall have to deal...."

"Ah! by Jove! then we shall see," said Charras.

"You are going to try and be very eloquent, I hope?"

"Rather! Hurrah for Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, the Grand Army and the devil and his horns! I cannot help touching him, unless his heart be encircled with three layers of steel, as Horace says."

"And suppose it is?"

"In that case.... Ah! I don't know! But then ... Oh, hang it all, man, you worry me with all your 'ifs'!"

"Never mind. Just answer that question: suppose he isn't touched?"

"Well! Shan't we still have the Bourget post-master's spring crucifixes to fall back on? We will play on them. Upon my word and honour, anybody would think you did not know the air!"

"Of course, I do!"

"If so, why are you quibbling?"

"I wished to know if you had really decided on anything."

"Oh! I say, what humbug!"

This dialogue, as will be easily understood, took place in an undertone, whilst the quarter-master, who was to conduct the young men to the colonel's house, was preparing his military toilet. He returned and got into the carriage, which set off at full trot till it reached the colonel's house. At the gate, Charras, like the conscientious man he was, handed one of the pistols to Lothon.

"Good!" said Lothon, "thanks.... Give me the other one too now."

"What for?"

"To see if they are in good order and have not lost their primings.... Anyhow, come, give it me."

"Here it is."

"Now get out.... You can see the quarter-master is waiting for you."

Charras leapt down from the carriage, and they went upstairs to the first floor. At the door Charras turned round towards Lothon.

"What about the pistol?"

Lothon had stuffed it into his pocket.

"It is all right where it is: go on."

"What do you mean by 'it is all right where it is'?"

"Never mind: go on."

He pushed Charras into the anteroom. Lothon, just by chance, more prudent then than his comrade, had uncocked it. But they had chosen an unfortunate place to quarrel in, especially a quarrel of that nature. The two young men went on conversing mutely with their eyes, and a few seconds later found themselves inside the colonel's drawing-room. Colonel Husson was a man of forty, with strongly marked features and a resolute and proud expression, a real soldier type. He was chatting with one of the majors of his regiment. He received our two messengers politely but with reserve.

"What can we do for you, gentlemen?" he asked, after the preliminary interchange of compliments.

Charras in a few words related the story of the three days: the taking of the Louvre, the flight of the king and the nomination of the Provisional Government--the whole history of the Revolution, in short.

The two officers listened to the recital more and more coldly as he reached the end.

Charras deemed this was the right moment for producing the two papers from his pocket. He handed them both to the colonel. The one was in an envelope and sealed--that was Mauguin's letter; the other was simply folded in four--this was La Fayette's proclamation. By chance, the colonel began by breaking open first the sealed envelope containing Mauguin's letter. He read the first lines, then looked at the signature.

"Magin ... Maguin.... Who is this person?"

"Mauguin," replied Charras, "why, M. Mauguin, a member of the Provisional Government!"

"Mauguin?" the colonel repeated, looking at the major.

"Yes, a lawyer," the latter replied.

"A lawyer!" said the colonel, in tones that sent a shudder through Charras.

"Ah!" he said in a whisper to Lothon, "I believe we are done for!"

"I myself am sure of it!" said Lothon.

"Then now for our pistols!"

"Wait a bit ... there is time enough yet."

The colonel was reading the second despatch, and General La Fayette's name seemed to be correcting the bad impression made by the name of Mauguin. Had they but possessed a third letter signed by a second general they would have been saved. But, unluckily, they had no third letter.

"Well, gentlemen?" asked the colonel, when he had read the second letter.

"Well, colonel," Charras replied plainly, "the Provisional Government thought it was sending us to patriots; it seems that it was mistaken, that is all."

"Do you know, messieurs, to what this error of yours exposes you?"

"Why, yes!" said Charras; "to be shot."

"I am obliged to leave you, messieurs; give me your word of honour that you will not attempt to leave this room."

"Our parole? ... Come now! ... Have us shot, if you will,--you must answer for the responsibility of the execution to the Provisional Government,--but we will not give you our parole."

"At all events, give up your swords, then."

"No, no, no!"

The colonel bit his lips and said something in a low voice to the major and prepared to go out. Charras made a backward movement in order to touch Lothon, then said in a whisper--

"The pistol, for goodness' sake give me the pistol! You can see that this rascal means to have us shot!"

"Bah!" was Lothon's reply, "_à la guerre comme à la guerre._"

"You seem to take things very easy, you donkey; you are half dead as it is, and won't take much finishing off.... But, except for the hole you were imbecile enough to make in me, I am hale enough, and I have no desire to be killed like a chicken!"

"Oh! set your mind at rest!... They do not shoot people down like this without warning, you bet!"

Meanwhile, the colonel went away, and the two messengers were left with the major. The major seemed a better sort than the colonel; he had evidently remained, by his chiefs order, to make the young men talk and to find out whether all they had stated was really the truth. As their story was correct, there was no danger of their contradicting each other. Moreover, Lothon left the whole brunt of the conversation to Charras; for, as he was lounging on a sort of sofa, he fell asleep in five minutes' time. In the midst of the interview an officer appeared on the scene.

"Comrade," he said, addressing Charras, "I have come from the colonel, to whom you would not give your parole.... My instructions are not to let you out of my sight;... but as I am not a policeman--why there!..."

He unbuckled his sword and flung it into an arm-chair.

"You can do what you like!"

"Monsieur," said Charras, "our intention is not to quit la Fère, and in proof thereof look...."

And he pointed out to the officer Lothon sound asleep.

The colonel returned in an hour's time. He appeared very much excited and very irresolute. Suddenly he stopped in front of Charras.

"I will wager you are hungry?" he said.

Charras merely shrugged his shoulders and answered--

"That is a singular question to put to me, surely?"

"Ah!" said the colonel, "we must not let anyone die of hunger, not even prisoners."

"Yes, it is better to fatten them up before you shoot them, is it not?" remarked Charras.

"Who is talking of shooting you? Come," exclaimed the colonel, opening a door, "breakfast."

A table was brought in, fully laid as on the stage. The colonel departed from his usual custom and breakfasted in his drawing-room instead of his dining-room--or, rather, he did not breakfast, for he did not sit down to the table. Charras roused Lothon, who was in a bad temper at being waked, specially since he did not know for what purpose he had been awakened. When he knew that it was for breakfast, he softened. They had just finished the cutlets when the door opened quickly and a man of about fifty dressed in uniform appeared.

"Pardon, colonel," he said, "but I am Lieutenant-Colonel Duriveau of the Engineers and second in command at the École polytechnique under the Empire.... I have been told that you are keeping two of my old boys prisoners, and have come to see if it is so."

Then, addressing himself to Charras and Lothon, he said--

"Good-day, messieurs; I bid you welcome."

"Welcome?" repeated the colonel.

"Yes, yes, that is what I said.... And to you, colonel, I say that you have no right to detain these gentlemen. I am told they have been sent on a mission from the Provisional Government.... They are officers with a flag of truce, and it is the universal custom not to arrest those intrusted with missions of that nature."

So saying, he shook Charras's hand with such heartiness as to make him cry out, for it caused his wound to re-open.

"What is the matter?" asked Lieutenant-Colonel Duriveau.

"Nothing, nothing at all, merely that I have a wound under my arm."

"Indeed, and it looks as though your friend had one in his head, too.... We must have all these wounds dressed before anything else, colonel."

"I have thought of that, monsieur," replied the colonel, "and I do not know why the surgeon-major has not yet come."

At that moment he came in.

"Here, monsieur," the colonel said to him, "these are the young men I spoke of.... See if they require your services."

Charras wanted to refuse, but Lieutenant-Colonel Duriveau signed to him to allow it, and took the colonel and major away into an adjoining room. The surgeon-major first dressed Lothon's head; the bullet had penetrated to the bone, which it had twisted and left bare. He must have been bewitched to be out of his bed after receiving such an injury. The surgeon wanted to bleed the wounded man, but to this he positively objected.

"I may at any moment require the use of both my arms," he said, "so leave them intact.... My head is quite bad enough without other hurt!"

Then came Charras.

"Good gracious, monsieur," said the surgeon-major, "you had a lucky escape! An inch or two more to the left and you would have had the artery severed."

"And to think," Charras said, pointing to Lothon, "that it was that brute who did it for me with his François sword!"

"Come," said Lothon, "there you go, crying out about your blessed artery which is not even scratched!... I did not know you were as soft as that!"

Charras began laughing, when Lieutenant-Colonel Duriveau entered.

"All is going right," he whispered to Charras. "I will not leave you for a minute until you are outside the town."

There had just been a meeting of officers, who had decided that, whether with or without the colonel's participation, they would range themselves on the side of the Provisional Government. The colonel returned in half an hour's time.

"Messieurs," he said, "you must give me your word of honour to leave la Fère instantly, and then you shall be free."

"I will give you nothing of the kind," said Charras.

"You will not!"

"No."

"You will, at any rate, engage not to cause any disturbance in my regiment?"

"I will not.... I like your suggestions, indeed! We come in the name of the constituted Government, and it is we who possess authority, you who are rebels; we could do you a bad turn for having us arrested, and you ask us for our word of honour to quit la Fère, and not to try to influence your regiment.... Come now! Either shoot us or let us go free!"

"Well, then," said the colonel, "go to the devil with you!" and he held out his hand to them, laughing.

They both pressed his hand and went out, accompanied by Lieutenant-Colonel Duriveau, who, according to his promise, kept as close to them as a shadow.

It may be gathered that the town was in a state of excitement. The officer who had been set to mount guard over them left the house with them, and, after shaking hands at the door, set off at a run to rejoin his comrades. The carriage had returned to the posting-house, to which they wended their way. At every step of the road the young men received manifest tokens of sympathy. When they reached the post, they were rejoined by the major.

"Messieurs," he said to them, "the colonel begs you as a favour to go away; he gives you his word of honour that he and his regiment will yield allegiance to the Provisional Government.... But, at the least, you might allow him the credit for this adherence."

"Oh! if that is all," Charras and Lothon both exclaimed together, "by all means let us start!"

"One moment," said Lieutenant-Colonel Duriveau, "how are you off for money?"

Charras turned out his pockets; he had hardly five francs left out of Aubespin's twenty francs.

"How much would you like?" said the lieutenant-colonel, pulling out several bags of five-franc pieces from his trouser-pockets.

"A hundred francs," said Charras.

"Will that be enough?"

"Surely! we came with but twenty."

"Then we'll say a hundred."

And he handed a rouleau to Charras, who broke it in two as though it had been a stick of chocolate, and gave half or thereabouts to Lothon.

"Now for the carriage and horses!" shouted the two young men.

"Oh! the posting stage between here and Chauny is my affair. I am going to drive you," said a jovial-faced, sturdy-looking butcher, who had stationed himself in front of the post-house with his little spring cart, inside which five or six trusses of straw composed the seats, and he rolled up his sleeves; "and I guess," he added, "you will never have been driven so fast."

"Very well, thanks, comrade!" said Charras, he and Lothon seating themselves beside him.

"Here! postillion, follow us with the carriage!" they shouted. "Adieu, colonel!"

"Adieu, my lads!"

"Off we go!" cried the butcher, cracking his whip, "and _Vive la Charte! Vive La Fayette! Vive le Gouvernement Provisoire!_ Down with Charles X., the dauphin, Polignac and the whole lot of them! Houp!..."

And, as the butcher had promised, the cart whirled away as fast as a waterspout. At Chauny, they parted from the butcher and re-mounted their carriage. Next day, at ten in the morning, an hour after me, Charras and Lothon reached the Hôtel de Ville just at the moment when General La Fayette, who was always gallant, was kissing the hand of Mademoiselle Mante, who, accompanied by M. Samson and a third member, had come to lay the Comédie-Française under the protection of the nation. This deputation kept the two young men waiting for half an hour, during which time they acquainted themselves with what had happened since their departure: how the Duc d'Orléans was made lieutenant-general, and how Louis-Philippe was going to be made king.

"Ah! that is how matters stand," Lothon exclaimed to Charras; "well, you shall hear what I have to say to it all to old La Fayette!"

It was now Charras's turn to try and calm Lothon. But Lothon would not be quieted: his wound, the heat, the excitement, the little wine he had drunk, his refusal to be bled, all combined to send him into a state of delirium. Brain fever had set in. He entered the room where La Fayette was, hustling everybody who tried to prevent him; for, as I have mentioned, La Fayette was very carefully guarded. Charras followed Lothon. Then, crossing his arms over his breast, his hat that had been riddled into holes by the seven bullets thrown on the ground, his forehead bound up in the black bandage, his eyes flashing with fever, his cheeks purple with anger, the young fellow called the old man to account in terms which ought to have been taken down in shorthand to be properly reproduced, with respect to the liberty which had been bought at the price of much bloodshed, which the People had confided to him and which he had allowed himself to be robbed of by the chicanery and ambition of courtiers. He was so fine, so great, so eloquent, so full of untold poetic feeling, to the point even of frenzy, that no one dared interrupt him.

"General," Charras whispered to La Fayette, "forgive him.... You see he is delirious."

"Yes, yes," said La Fayette.

Then to Lothon--

"My friend--my young friend--there, there ... calm yourself!"

Then, turning round--

"Is there no doctor at hand to bleed this young man?" he asked.

Lothon heard the suggestion.

"To bleed me?" he exclaimed. "Oh! no, no! Since we have again lost liberty, my blood shall not flow by the lance of a doctor ... but by the bayonets of the Royal Guard, under the bullets of the Swiss.... Leave me the blood in my veins, general; so long as the Bourbons remain in France, both Older and Younger Branches, I shall have need of it! Come, Charras. Come!"

He rushed from the room, leaving La Fayette thoughtful and troubled. Perhaps the words that had just fallen on the general's ear corresponded to the voice of his conscience; perhaps he had already reproached himself in the same way that Lothon had just done.

"I should like to be alone," he said.

And, before the door was closed, they could see him bury that fine and noble head between his hands, that head upon which the children of the Republic had just invoked the anathemas of posterity.

[1] As none of the above conversation has yet been reported entirely, I appeal to history and to the memories of persons who were present at the interview. As to the words spoken by Godefroy Cavaignac and the king's reply, I can certify their authenticity, as I wrote them down at the time, from Godefroy's own dictation, and he was quite incapable of untruthfulness.

[2] _Romeo and Juliet._