"They can fine you and confiscate your gun."
"Your gun, you mean."
"Oh! that doesn't matter, I will give you another worth thirty sous."
"Yes, but the fine, what will that come to?"
"Oh! as to that, the fine will be a matter of fifty francs."
"Fifty francs!" I exclaimed: "they will ask my mother for fifty francs! Oh! goodness! What shall I do?"
And I felt ready to burst into tears.
"Bah!" said Montagnon, "isn't there your cousin Deviolaine?"
I shook my head, for I had not such confidence as that in my cousin Deviolaine. I had asked him several times, in order to sound him:—
"Cousin, what would you do to me if you caught me shooting in the forest?"
And he had replied, in the gentle tones that characterised him, and with his usual charming trick of frowning his eyebrows as he spoke:—
"Do? I should fling you into a dungeon, you rascal!"
So Montagnon's efforts at consolation with regard to M. Deviolaine were not at all reassuring on that head; and I returned home, therefore, looking very down in the mouth. I kissed my mother more affectionately than usual, and turned to go towards my room.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I am going to do my composition, mother," I replied.
"You must do it after dinner; it is time for dinner."
"I am not hungry."
"What, not hungry?"
"No, I had some bread-and-butter at Montagnon's."
My mother gazed at me in astonishment; Madame Montagnon had not a reputation for such hospitality.
"Nonsense," she said.
Then she turned to an old friend of hers, who spent nearly all her time at our house, and whose life I worried with tricks, saying, half laughingly, half anxiously:—
"Oh! he must be poorly!"
"Don't worry yourself," the old lady replied; "the scamphas been up to some fresh mischief, and has probably an uneasy conscience."
Oh I dear Madame Dupuis, what a profound knowledge you had of the human heart in general, and of my heart in particular!
No, I hadn't a clear conscience, and so I remained standing at the window, half-hidden behind the curtains, exploring the square on all sides to see if a keeper or a policeman, or even Tournemolle, with whom I had already had a skirmish over my pistol, were coming to the house from some quarter or other.
One far worse than keeper, or policeman, or Tournemolle came into the square.
M. Deviolaine came himself!
For one moment I hoped he might not be coming to the house: we lived next-door to an old keeper on whom he called sometimes.
But there was soon no longer room for doubt; one might have said that a mathematician had drawn a diagonal from the rue du Château to the threshold of our house, and that M. Deviolaine had made a bet to follow this diagonal without stepping a single hair's-breadth out of the line.
My only hope lay in escape, and I had laid my plans in five seconds.
I flew rapidly down the staircase; through two glass doors at the bottom of the stairs one could see into the shop. Directly M. Deviolaine opened the shop door, I bounded through a door which communicated with Lafarge's house, and, from Lafarge's house into a path that led to the street; I gained the king's highway; I cleared the houses; I reached the place de l'Abreuvoir, by a back passage, and from the place de l'Abreuvoir I entered Montagnon's house by the famous back door, which until that moment I had looked upon only as a means of exit, but which I was to make use of twice in one day as a means of entrance.
From Montagnon's shop I could see across to our house, as much as one can see from one side of a street to the other.
There seemed to be a great commotion going on, as though they were looking for someone; I had no longer any doubt when I saw my mother appear behind the panes of the first landing window, open the window, and look out into the street.
It was evident that not only was someone being searched for, but that my mother was looking for this individual, and that this individual was myself.
I could not depute either Montagnon or his wife to go and make inquiries, for, although I came to them most days, they rarely visited our house: the sudden appearance of one or other of them would have seemed curious, and would assuredly have revealed the whole thing. So I kept quiet, under cover, as Robinson Crusoe said he did when he first saw the savages landing on his island.
After a quarter of an hour M. Deviolaine came out again, and I thought his face looked even angrier than when he went in.
I waited till it was dark, at five o'clock, and, night having fallen, I made myself as invisible as possible, and ran to my kind friend Madame Darcourt.
The reader may remember that when anything serious happened, I always had recourse to her; so once more I laid my case before her, confessed everything to her, and begged her to go to my mother's in order to learn how matters stood.
The good and worthy woman was so fond of me that she would humour my least caprice; so she hurried to the house, and I followed her at a distance; then, when she went in, I glued my eye to a corner of the window-pane.
Unluckily my mother turned her back to the window, so I could not see her face; but I saw her movements, which seemed to me dreadfully threatening.
After a quarter of an hour Madame Darcourt came out and called me, as she knew I was certain to be somewhere near. I let her call me two or three times; then, as I detected a more reassuring intonation in her third call, I ventured to draw near.
"Is that you, you naughty child?" said my mother.
"Come! do not scold him," interrupted Madame Darcourt; "he has been punished quite enough."
"Thank goodness if he has," said my mother, nodding her head up and down.
I heaved a sigh which shook the stonework against which I was leaning.
"You know that M. Deviolaine has been?" said my mother.
"Yes, I know he has, I saw him coming; that was why I ran away."
"He positively insists that you shall be sent to prison."
"Oh! he has no right to send me to prison," I retorted.
"What! he hasn't the right to do it?"
"No, no, no! I know he hasn't; I know what I am saying."
My mother made a sign to Madame Darcourt which I intercepted.
"Oh! you needn't wink like that," I said, "he has no right to do it."
"Well, but he has the right to prosecute you and to fine you."
"Ah! yes, that is true," I said; with a second sigh much heavier than the first.
"And who is to pay the fine then?"
"Alas, alas, dear mother, I know too well you must: but do not be anxious; I swear on my word of honour I will repay you the fifty francs when I earn any money!"
My mother could not keep from laughing.
"Ah, you are laughing!" I exclaimed, "so there is no more fear of a fine than of prison!"
"No; but there is a condition."
"What?"
"You are to go to M. Creton, you are to tell him you are sorry for what has happened, and you are to ask his forgiveness."
I shook my head.
"What do you mean by No?" cried my mother.
"No!" I replied.
"You dare to say No?"
"I say No."
"And why so?"
"Because I cannot go to him to tell him I am sorry he has sprained himself."
"You cannot say you are sorry that he has sprained himself?"
"Why, no! for I am glad he did. It would be a lie, mother, and you know you have often forbidden me to tell lies!... One day, when I was very little, you whipped me for lying."
"Did you ever see such a rogue!" said my mother.
"Nonsense, the child does not wish to lie," Madame Darcourt remarked laughingly.
"But the prosecution—and the fifty francs!" exclaimed my mother.
"Bah! what are fifty francs?" said Madame Darcourt.
"Oh, really! do you think then that fifty francs are a mere trifle to us?" my mother answered sadly.
The tone with which she said these words touched me to the heart, for it showed that the loss of the fifty francs was much, indeed too much, for my mother to bear.
I was just going to give in, and to say, "Very well, I will go to the man and tell him I am sorry he has sprained himself. I will say everything you want me to say!" ... when, unfortunately for my good intentions, Madame Darcourt, who had noticed the intonation in my mother's voice, even as I had, turned to me:—
"Listen," she said; "I haven't given you your Christmas box for this year."
"No, nor Léonor either."
"Nor Léonor either?" she repeated.
"Neither," I said again.
"Very well! if you are compelled to pay the fifty francs in question we will each give you twenty-five of it."
"Thank you, Madame Darcourt.... In that case I will run over to M. Creton."
"What for?"
"To tell him that everything has turned out well; that he only got what he deserved; that another time he is not to run after me; that—"
My mother caught me by the arm.
"Look here—go into the house and straight to bed," she said.
"It is all right; Creton will get something for his sprain, and M. Deviolaine for his writ; so it is all right.... Thank you, Madame Darcourt; please thank Léonor, Madame Darcourt.... Good-night all, I am off to bed. I am tired after my run; it is wonderful how sleepy running makes one.... Good-night—all."
And, running through the shop from one end to the other, I gained my room, enraptured to have got off so easily.
Creton issued his writ, and sent it in to M. Deviolaine, who, learning of my obstinacy, swore he would enforce it; he would assuredly have fulfilled his oath, had not news arrived on the 6th of March which no one expected, and which turned the world upside down to such an extent that Creton forgot his sprain and M. Deviolaine his writ.
Bonaparte's landing at the Gulf of Juan—Proclamations and Ordonnances—Louis XVIII. and M. de Vitrolles—Cornu the hatter—Newspaper information.
Bonaparte's landing at the Gulf of Juan—Proclamations and Ordonnances—Louis XVIII. and M. de Vitrolles—Cornu the hatter—Newspaper information.
Bonaparte had landed on the noon of the 1st March, at the Gulf of Juan, and was marching on Paris.
People of another generation, who were not alive at that period, can form no idea of the effect this news produced when on the morning of the 7th March we read the following lines in theMoniteur:—
"PROCLAMATION."We adjourned the Chambers on the 31st of last December until the Session of May 1st, during which interval we have striven unceasingly in every way that could contribute to the tranquillity and the welfare of our peoples. That tranquillity is threatened, and that welfare may be compromised bymalevolenceandtreachery."Imagine, dear readers, one of those worthy citizens who subscribe to theMoniteur,—there are some who do, although not many,—imagine a mayor, a magistrate, a deputy magistrate; anyone, in fact, who by duty, by position, or by a sense of responsibility, is obliged to read Government prose: imagine one of these men, carelessly opening his official news-sheet, which he reads every morning from conscientious motives, falling upon this first paragraph, with its final disturbing expressions ofmalevolenceandtreachery.
"PROCLAMATION.
"We adjourned the Chambers on the 31st of last December until the Session of May 1st, during which interval we have striven unceasingly in every way that could contribute to the tranquillity and the welfare of our peoples. That tranquillity is threatened, and that welfare may be compromised bymalevolenceandtreachery."
Imagine, dear readers, one of those worthy citizens who subscribe to theMoniteur,—there are some who do, although not many,—imagine a mayor, a magistrate, a deputy magistrate; anyone, in fact, who by duty, by position, or by a sense of responsibility, is obliged to read Government prose: imagine one of these men, carelessly opening his official news-sheet, which he reads every morning from conscientious motives, falling upon this first paragraph, with its final disturbing expressions ofmalevolenceandtreachery.
"Dear, dear, dear, whatever is the matter now!"
And he goes on:—
"If the enemies to our country have founded their hopes in its divisions, which they are ever seeking to foment, itssupporters, its legitimate upholders, will cancel that criminal hope by the invulnerable strength of an indestructible union."
"If the enemies to our country have founded their hopes in its divisions, which they are ever seeking to foment, itssupporters, its legitimate upholders, will cancel that criminal hope by the invulnerable strength of an indestructible union."
"By all means let us crush such a criminal hope," says the worthy citizen, who does not yet know what they are driving at.
"By all means let us crush such a criminal hope," says the public functionary, who imagines it means some conspiracy among subordinate officers.
And the citizen turns to his wife, nods his head, and repeats—
"... 'By the invulnerable strength of an indestructible union! '"adding, "How well the Government puts it!"
Then the reader, whether citizen or public functionary, reads as follows:—
"Acting upon the advice of our well-beloved and faithful chevalier, Sieur Dambray, Lord Chancellor of France, whom we charge to carry out our orders, we hereby command as follows ..."
"Acting upon the advice of our well-beloved and faithful chevalier, Sieur Dambray, Lord Chancellor of France, whom we charge to carry out our orders, we hereby command as follows ..."
"Ah! now let us see what the king orders," says the reader.
"Article 1."The Chamber of Peers and that of the Deputies of Departments are specially convoked to meet at the usual place where their sittings are held."Article 2."Those Peers and Deputies of Departments who are absent from Paris must at once proceed there as soon as they become aware of this Proclamation."Issued from the Château of the Tuileries on March 6, 1815, twentieth year of our reign.(Signed)LOUIS."
"Article 1.
"The Chamber of Peers and that of the Deputies of Departments are specially convoked to meet at the usual place where their sittings are held.
"Article 2.
"Those Peers and Deputies of Departments who are absent from Paris must at once proceed there as soon as they become aware of this Proclamation.
"Issued from the Château of the Tuileries on March 6, 1815, twentieth year of our reign.
(Signed)
LOUIS."
"Well!" says the citizen, "it is odd that they do not state why the Chambers are convoked."
"Ah!" says the public functionary, "they convoke the Chambers specially, and do not indicate the day for meeting. Deuce take it! the situation must be very grave to cause such an omission."
"Ah!" they both exclaim, "here is an Ordonnance! let usread the Ordonnance, and perhaps that will enlighten us somewhat."
"ORDONNANCE."Acting upon the advice of our well-beloved and faithful chevalier, Sieur Dambray, Lord Chancellor of France, whom we charge to carry out our orders, we hereby command and declare as follows:—"Article 1."Napoleon Bonaparte is declared a traitor and a rebelfor attaching himself to the main armyin the Department of Var."
"ORDONNANCE.
"Acting upon the advice of our well-beloved and faithful chevalier, Sieur Dambray, Lord Chancellor of France, whom we charge to carry out our orders, we hereby command and declare as follows:—
"Article 1.
"Napoleon Bonaparte is declared a traitor and a rebelfor attaching himself to the main armyin the Department of Var."
"Oh! oh!" says the citizen, "what do they imply by that? They are deceived! Is not Napoleon confined to an island?"
"Why, of course," replies his wife "in an island called Elba."
"Very well, then, how could he get into the Department of Var; there is probably anerratumfurther on. Let us continue."
"What!" exclaims the public functionary, "what are they talking of? Napoleon has attached himself to the main army in the Department of Var? Goodness me! that is serious news; fortunately my wife's cousin is related to the usurper's valet de chambre, so that, if by any chance.... Let us read on."
And both continue:—
"It is therefore urged upon all Governors, Commanders of armed forces, National Guards, Civil Authorities, and even upon Private Citizens, toseize him..."
"It is therefore urged upon all Governors, Commanders of armed forces, National Guards, Civil Authorities, and even upon Private Citizens, toseize him..."
"Toseize him," the citizen's wife here interrupts; "what does that mean? to seize him?"
"Why, it is plain enough; it means ... it means to seize him.... But you interrupt me just at the most interesting point."
"To seize him!" murmurs the public functionary; "I am glad I am not mayor, or deputy, or magistrate in the Department of Var."
Then both resume their reading:—
"...to seize and arrest him, to cause him immediately to be brought before a court-martial, which, after having proved his identity, shallsentencehim according to the law."Article 2."Soldiers oremployésof any rank who shall have accompanied or followed the above-mentioned Bonaparte shall be visited with the same punishment, and held guilty of the same crimes, unless they make their submission within a period of eight days."Article 3."All civil and military rulers, heads or employers of labour, or receivers of public trusts, or even private citizens, who shall offer assistance or help of any kind, whether directly or indirectly, to Bonaparte, shall be equally proceeded against and punished as abettors and accomplices in this rebellion."Article 4."Also all those shall be punished in the same way, who, by holding discourse in public places, or by issuing placards, bills, or printed matter, shall take part in, or incite citizens to take part in, the rebellion, or who shall abstain from repressing the revolt."Issued from the Château of the Tuileries, March 6, 1815, twentieth year of our reign. (Signed)LOUIS."
"...to seize and arrest him, to cause him immediately to be brought before a court-martial, which, after having proved his identity, shallsentencehim according to the law.
"Article 2.
"Soldiers oremployésof any rank who shall have accompanied or followed the above-mentioned Bonaparte shall be visited with the same punishment, and held guilty of the same crimes, unless they make their submission within a period of eight days.
"Article 3.
"All civil and military rulers, heads or employers of labour, or receivers of public trusts, or even private citizens, who shall offer assistance or help of any kind, whether directly or indirectly, to Bonaparte, shall be equally proceeded against and punished as abettors and accomplices in this rebellion.
"Article 4.
"Also all those shall be punished in the same way, who, by holding discourse in public places, or by issuing placards, bills, or printed matter, shall take part in, or incite citizens to take part in, the rebellion, or who shall abstain from repressing the revolt.
"Issued from the Château of the Tuileries, March 6, 1815, twentieth year of our reign. (Signed)
LOUIS."
The citizen re-reads it, and still he is in the dark.
The public functionary does not need to read it twice, he understands it all.
Imagine news like this, announced to France in such a fashion!
Whether the subscribers to theMoniteurunderstood it at first glance, or had to re-read it twice, the shock was just as startling and sudden in its character.
Ten minutes after theMoniteurhad been opened by the Mayor of Villers-Cotterets, the event was known throughout the town, and every house divested itself of its inmates, who rushed out into the streets.
Every other journal kept silence.
This is how the news reached Paris, and led to the Proclamation and Ordonnance we have just read.
From Lyons, on the morning of March 5th, the news of the landing of Napoleon in the Gulf of Juan had been transmitted to Paris by telegraph.
The delay was explained by the telegraph lines stopping short at that period at Lyons. A courier had been sent off post haste from Marseilles on the 3rd, by the military commander, and had brought the news to his colleague of the Department of the Rhone during the night of the 4th and 5th.
The telegraph was under the jurisdiction of M. de Vitrolles, cabinet minister and State secretary. He it was who received the despatch, in the place Vendôme, where his offices were situated: he did not even wait to have his horses put to his carriage, but ran on foot to the Tuileries, to communicate the despatch to the king.
It was worded thus:—
"Bonaparte landed on the 1st March, near Cannes, in the Department of Var, with 1200 men and four pieces of cannon. He is marching in the direction of Digne and Gap, as though to take the road to Grenoble; all measures are being adopted to arrest and thwart this mad attempt. The utmost loyalty prevails in the Southern Departments, and public tranquillity is assured."
Louis XVIII. took the despatch out of M. de Vitrolles' hands and read it with the greatest calmness.
Then, when he had read it, he said:—
"Well?"
"Well, sire, I await your Majesty's commands," said M. de Vitrolles.
Louis XVIII. made a gesture with his shoulders as though to say, "Why should I be troubled over the matter?" Then aloud he said:—
"Go and see Marshal Soult, and tell him to do what is necessary."
M. de Vitrolles ran towards Marshal Soult's, but he did not need to go as far as the War Office, he met Marshal Soult on thepont Royal.
They both returned to the Tuileries.
The marshal doubted the truth of the news; and doubted it so thoroughly that he told the military commander he should receive his orders next day.
So one day—one whole day—was lost, when not one second should have been lost.
However, towards ten that night, it was decided that M. le count d'Artois should set off for Lyons, and M. le duc de Bourbon for la Vendée.
Next day, the 6th, the papers were silent; but the telegraph spoke again. It announced that Napoleon was definitely advancing towards Grenoble and LyonsviaDigne and Gap.
It was only then at about two o'clock in the afternoon that it was decided to summon the Chambers and to draw up the Proclamation and Ordonnance we read in theMoniteur.
Villers-Cotterets was more inclined to Royalist than to Bonapartist feeling. The château which, under Louis XV. and Louis XVI., had been occupied by the duc d'Orléans and by Madame de Montesson and their court; the château where Philippe-Égalité spent his frequent exiles and pursued his finest hunting expeditions; the forest to which half the working population owed its livelihood, in which they worked, and from which three-quarters of the poor people got their beech-nuts and firewood; the forest which was part of the estates of the House of Orléans, since the marriage of Philippe, brother of Louis XIV., with Madame Henriette; the château and forest, we reiterate, had spread aristocratic traditions in the town, which the Revolution had done very little to efface, although it had placed its soldiers, and the Empire its beggars, in the dwelling-house of an ancient line of princes.
So the first impression this news of Napoleon's landing in the Gulf of Juan produced at Villers-Cotterets was more hostile than joyous.
The women specially distinguished themselves by a fiery outbreak of threats, which tended even towards imprecations.
Among these women there was one more fiery and energetic than all the rest: she was the wife of a hatter called Cornu.
Those, then, to whom this return of Napoleon was a hope (I will not say a delight, for at that period no one could guess the rapidity of the march which, thirteen days after the day on which we had learnt of his landing on the most distant point inFrance, was to take him to the Tuileries), instead of rejoicing, seemed more melancholy than ever, and entered their houses with lowered heads.
My mother was not, nor could she be, one of their number. Napoleon had not been so benevolent to us that his return could afford us the slightest pleasure; but we were perfectly well aware, both of us, that we were among the people who were menaced. What could a woman and a child do against these menaces?
We therefore entered our home with heads as bowed as though we were Bonapartists.
And indeed, from that time forth, so we were in the eyes of the inhabitants.
The situation was not exactly cheerful, and our position anything but reassuring.
It was true that not only theJournal des Débats, but all the other papers, spoke of Napoleon as a fugitive bandit driven back into the mountains, tracked by the inhabitants like a wild beast; who had failed in his attempt upon Antibes, and was repulsed by Digne, which had shut its gates against him; who was already repenting having risked such a senseless act as trying to reconquer France with only 1200 men, he who had lost it with 600,000!
All awaited, then, with impatience the papers of the 9th and of the 10th, when, no doubt, we should learn that the usurper had been taken, as theJournal des Débatsdesired, and, in accordance with the instructions of the Proclamation inserted in theMoniteur, a Court-martial had begun to try him.
Should it so happen, he would have been shot, twenty-four hours later, in a courtyard, a farmyard, a ditch, and all would be at an end.
Why, indeed, should his court-martial take longer than that of the duc d'Enghien?
The paper of the 9th came: but instead of the paragraphs we expected to find, we read that the fugitive had been at Castellane, at Barême, and for a short while at Martigny, where he had issued a proclamation to the inhabitants of Hautes-Alpes.
Incredible as the step might seem, when one considered that it was taken by so great a strategist as Napoleon, the fugitive was fleeing to Paris!
Meanwhile, M. le comte d'Artois had gone to Lyons.
It was indeed an honour to send the first prince of the blood to block the advance of such a man.
He was accompanied by the duc d'Orléans and the marshal duc de Taranto.
And, in addition to this, a royal proclamation, upon the advice of the duc de Dalmatia, minister of war, had called up the Royal Standard officers on half-pay in order to form a select corps, in all the principal places of each Department.
Another mandate, issued the same day, mobilized the Parisian National Guards.
On the 10th the news of a grand victory gained by the duc d'Orléans over the usurper spread over Paris, and so into the provinces. An officer of the king's household appeared on the balcony of the Tuileries, and, waving his hat, announced that the king had just received official information that the duc d'Orléans had attacked the usurper at the head of 20,000 men of the National Guard, in the direction of Bourgoin, and had completely beaten him.
Unluckily the papers of the 12th announced the return to Paris of the would-be conqueror.
TheMoniteureven gave out that Napoleon had slept at Bourgoin on the night of the 9th; and that they expected he mightperhapsenter Lyons on the evening of the 10th of March, but that it seemed certain Grenoble had not yet opened its gates to him.
This was the extent of our news at Villers-Cotterets, which was a day behind that of Paris, when a conspiracy broke out which, without seeming to be connected therewith in any way, yet gave rise to the feeling that there was an extraordinary coincidence between it and Napoleon's landing and march towards Paris.
We shall see in what fashion, child though I was, I was to be mixed up in this great affair, a matter of life and death.
General Exelmans—His trial—The two brothers Lallemand—Their conspiracy—They are arrested and led through Villers-Cotterets—The affronts to which they were subjected.
General Exelmans—His trial—The two brothers Lallemand—Their conspiracy—They are arrested and led through Villers-Cotterets—The affronts to which they were subjected.
May we be permitted to go back a little further, since our dramatic training has accustomed us always and in every detail to prefer the clearest and most lucid style of presentation?
We know what spirit of reaction had been abroad under the government of Louis XVIII., and what persecution during the first restoration the men who had served under the usurper (as Napoleon was called) had had to undergo.
The indiscretion of a few prominent people in the party called the ultra-Royalists had revealed the intentions of the monarchy; one of these designs, they said, was to exterminate the Bonapartists, as the Protestants had been exterminated under Charles IX.
The more absurd the rumours were, the more readily were they believed: the Bourbons were thought capable of the most outrageous projects. And there was—I will not say a great fright among those who were menaced (the old comrades of the emperor were not so easily alarmed)—but many rumours were abroad. Many left Paris, hoping to rouse less hatred by going far from that everlasting seething pot of intrigues; others rallied together, armed themselves, and resolved to sell their lives dearly. The Government grew uneasy at these gatherings, wished to dissolve them, and, in order to attain this end, forbade all general officers to remain at Paris without leave; ordering all those who were not natives of the capital to return instantly to their own parts.
We can understand what exasperation this would cause at a time of violent dissensions; the retired officers protested against the measure, and banded together to resist it. Compelled by the minister to choose between Paris and half-pay, several, although poor, preferred independence to submission.
The Government, annoyed by this resistance, looked out for some occasion to make a public example; one soon came.
A letter from General Exelmans to Murat was seized and opened. He congratulated the King of Naples on the preservation of his crown, and told him that thousands of brave followers would hasten to defend his throne if it were again threatened.
Marshal Soult was minister for war. He immediately placed General Exelmans on the retired list, and ordered him to put sixty leagues between himself and Paris at once, and to stay away until further orders.
Exelmans declined to obey. The minister, he protested, had no right to exile officers who were not on the active service list.
The marshal arrested him, and denounced him before a court-martial of the twofold crime of disobeying his chief and of holding correspondence with the enemies of the State.
General Exelmans was acquitted.
This was a terrible blow for the Government.
Military men who were not on active servicedid not owe the Government obedience.Then, comprehending from the hatred they bore it, that its hatred for themselves would show itself in some dreadful ebullition, they resolved to forestall it.
A meeting was held at the house of one of the generals who was most deeply compromised by his Napoleonic opinions,—Drouet d'Erlon, I believe, was the man. At this meeting, which was composed of officers on half-pay, as well as of officers in active service, it was decided that all those in active service who had a command should march on Paris at a given moment, with as many men as they could muster. Fifty thousand men would be found ready at the right moment in the capital; more than necessary to dictate terms. Theywould demand from the king the dismissal of the ministry, and they would compel him to drive out of France all those who were pointed out by public opinion as enemies to the Charter, and disturbers of the public welfare and peace.
This meeting had taken place, and these resolutions were drawn up before Napoleon's landing; but, as the movement broke out simultaneously with his return from Elba, the two events were connected together in people's minds.
The generals who took the leading part in this conspiracy were Drouet d'Erlon, whom we have already mentioned, Lefèvre-Desnouettes, and the two brothers Lallemand.
The duc de Treviso, under whose command the comte d'Erlon served, had the command of the 16th military division, whose headquarters were at Lille. Towards the end of February he was absent from his post, and as that moment seemed favourable the comte d'Erlon decided to take advantage of it. The moment was, indeed, particularly favourable, as it was just at the time when the telegraph wires transmitted the news of Napoleon's landing. The garrison of Lille, deceived by supposed orders, set forth on the 8th March, conducted by the comte d'Erlon; but it was meten routeby the duc de Treviso, who, at Lille, had received the extraordinary news which was convulsing Europe; he questioned the generals who were leading the columns, guessed the plot, gave counter-orders, and re-entered the town with his army corps.
But all this time Lefèvre-Desnouettes had been acting too. Believing that the garrison of Lille had started on its way, and not knowing what had happened, he had moved the regiment of the old Chasseurs de la Garde, which he commanded; but when he reached Compiègne, about seven leagues from us, he found the 6th chasseurs—who bore the name of the duc de Berry—drawn up in battle array, with its colonel, M. de Talhouet, at its head. At this spectacle Lefèvre-Desnouettes was struck dumb, and did not know how to answer his officers and those of the 6th chasseurs, who asked the cause of his perplexity.
He left Compiègne abruptly, met General Lyom, major of the regiment of royal chasseurs, divulged a part of his projected plans to him, and suggested that they should join the conspiracy and help it forward. Major Lyom refused; Lefèvre-Desnouettes perceived that there was nothing further to be done in that quarter, and that he would but risk his life by persisting. He therefore exchanged his uniform for a peasant's dress, and set his face across country towards Châlons, where General Rigaut was in command, whom he knew to be a fanatical partisan of Napoleon.
The two brothers Lallemand had not been idle. One of them, a general of artillery, had gone to la Fère with the two other squadrons of royal chasseurs, and his brother had accompanied him. Their intention was to seize the arsenal and park of artillery. They first tried to seduce the gunners, then to entice General d'Aboville, who commanded the artillery school, to their cause; but both these attempts were unsuccessful—soldiers and general held to their posts. General d'Aboville, seconded by Major Pion of the 2nd regiment of artillery, ordered arms to be taken to the garrison, placed a portion of the troops in the arsenal and others at the gates of the town, armed them, and had cannons mounted in the battery. It was effort wasted, as that of Lefèvre-Desnouettes had been. The two brothers retired, followed by a little band of gunners who had come over to their side, but who dispersed when an organised pursuit began, so that the two brothers Lallemand were obliged to fly without even knowing, as Lefèvre-Desnouettes had done, where to go, and losing themselves in a country which was strange to them.
All this happened within only thirteen leagues of Villers-Cotterets.
The attempt was made on March 10th.
On the 12th the police force at Villers-Cotterets received orders to search the countryside; it had been reported that the fugitives had been seen in the direction of Ferté-Milon.
We saw the police pass by, and we knew the object of their expedition, through a friend of mine, named Stanislas Leloir, the son of an old sergeant who had been killed near Villers-Cotterets during the campaign of 1814.
It may well be believed that all this news—whether from Paris or from Compiègne or la Fère—put our little hole of a town into a great ferment. The epithet ofBonapartist, now used definitely as an accusation, sounded more often than ever in my ears, but under the circumstances my mother had strongly urged upon me not to resist it. I therefore let them call me Bonapartist as much as they liked. At night, gangs of street boys, twenty-five to thirty in number, would collect, open the doors of suspected persons, come right into the house and shout out "Vive le roi!": compelling the inmates to shout with them. Ten times a night our door, which opened on the street, would be assailed by hooligans in this way, and their cries sounded in our ears with an angry persistence which was most disquieting.
By day everybody collected in the squares. Villers-Cotterets, being on the high road from Paris to Mézières, by way of Soissons and Laon, is one of the vital arteries which feed Northern France; numberless carriages, diligences and couriers use it; each often bringing some bit of special news not given us in the papers. It was by these means we learnt, on the 13th and 14th March, of Napoleon's entry into Grenoble and Lyons, to which the papers either did not refer at all, or which they only mentioned to contradict.
Thus, on the 14th, we learnt that Napoleon had entered Lyons, that the comte d'Artois, even as the duc d'Orléans, had been forced to return without an army; and, suddenly, we heard a great noise towards the end of the rue de Largny. As the street forms a perfectly straight line, we turned to look in the direction from whence the noise came; we saw three carriages, harnessed like post-chaises and escorted by a strong piquet of police.
Everybody rushed towards these conveyances. In each carriage sat a general officer between two policemen, andbesides these six policemen, seated opposite the three prisoners, were six more as escort.
The carriages came at a fast trot. So long as they were in the rue de Largny, which is quite wide, they were able to keep up the pace, but, when they reached the entrance to the rue de Soissons, a narrow and uneven street, they were obliged to go slower, on account of the hindrances they met.
We had asked and found out, in the meantime, that these general officers were the brothers Lallemand, for whom the police had been set to hunt the day before; that they had found them about six o'clock that morning, near a little village called Mareuil, riding on worn-out horses; they were harassed by a journey of three days' duration across country and through woodland, and had given themselves up without much show of resistance.
The two brothers Lallemand were in the first two carriages; the third, so far as I can recollect, was occupied by an ordinary aide-de-camp, captain, or orderly officer.
They were being taken to la Fère, we were told, to be shot.
They looked pale, but seemed collected.
When they entered our town they were greeted with furious cries, and the postilions, at a sign from the police, quickened the pace; but when, as I have said, they came to the rue de Soissons, they had almost to pull up, or to go at a foot pace; and the procession walked slowly in the middle of the population, which crowded each side of the street. The generals, who had doubtless believed that the whole of France would be unanimously in favour of Napoleon, seemed amazed that almost the entire population of that little town should surge round them in so hostile a fashion, and suddenly from the hatter's shop issued a furious woman, livid with anger, with dishevelled locks like one of the Eumenides; she scattered the people far and wide, dived between the horses of the police escort, sprang upon the step of the first carriage and spat in the face of General Lallemand, stretching forth, at the same time, her hand to tear off his epaulettes, and hurling the most indecent epithets at him in strident shrieks.
The general leant back in the carriage, and, in a voice charged rather with pity than with anger, asked:
"What is the matter with that unhappy woman?"
The police soon drove her away, but she began to run after the carriages, which would have to stop at the post, for fresh horses, about a hundred yards farther on.
However, her husband, her children and three or four neighbours caught hold of her, and prevented her from going farther.
This horrible scene, I need hardly say, had made a painful impression throughout the town, and from that moment the shouting ceased; the crowds still followed the prisoners and watched them with curiosity, but they kept silence.
The prisoners were being taken to la Fère, as we have explained, to be court-martialled and then shot, but they would have to spend the night at Soissons.
It was necessary to search the road in order to make sure that no seditious party was in waiting to carry off the prisoners.
In the midst of all this commotion and of all these painful scenes, as I was watching the carriages disappear along the Soissons road, I felt someone take hold of my hand, and, turning round, I found it was my mother.
"Come," she said in a whisper, making a sign with her head as she spoke, and I knew something important lay behind that word "Come," and her gesture.
She seemed terribly agitated, and she led me straight home.
My mother and I conspire—The secret—M. Richard—La pistoleand the pistols—The offer made to the brothers Lallemand in order to save them—They refuse—I meet one of them, twenty-eight years later, at the house of M. le duc de Cazes.
My mother and I conspire—The secret—M. Richard—La pistoleand the pistols—The offer made to the brothers Lallemand in order to save them—They refuse—I meet one of them, twenty-eight years later, at the house of M. le duc de Cazes.
My mother was the widow of a general, and she had not been able to witness the insult paid to men who wore the same uniform and the same epaulettes that my father had worn without being deeply distressed.
We were soon alone.
"Listen to me, my child," she said: "we are going to do something which will compromise us terribly, but I believe your father's memory demands that we should do it."
"Then let us do it, mother," I replied.
"You will promise never to tell a soul what we are going to do?"
"If you forbid me to do so."
"I do indeed imperatively forbid you."
"Then you can trust me."
"All right! put your things on."
"What for?"
"We are going to Soissons."
"What! Really?"
To go to Soissons was always a great treat for me. Soissons, a garrison town of fifth or sixth rank, was a capital in my eyes. Its gates had iron portcullises to them; the ramparts that I was going to see once more were riddled with the bullets of the last campaign; the garrison, the noise of arms, the odour of battle were all to my young mind intensely entrancing.
Besides, I had a dear friend in the son of one of the gaolersof the prison there (I ask my aristocratic friends of to-day to pardon me), who, when I went to see him, made me shiver by taking me into the mostdelightfuldungeons under his father's care.
So my first call was always on him, and the thought that flashed across my mind was that, as soon as we were once more in Soissons, I would ask what had become of him, for I never liked to deviate from my old customs.
His name was Charles.
The news of our going to Soissons pleased me much. I ran upstairs to my room, I dressed myself as quickly as I could, and then I went down.
A little shabby carriage, half cab, half tilbury, belonging to a livery stable-keeper called Martineau, was waiting for us at the door.
My mother and I got in, and we took the way by the park. Behind the Castle wall we met (whether by accident or by design I know not) a lawyer of Villers-Cotterets, whose opinions were extremely Republican, and who clung to Bonapartism as a means of opposition. My mother left the carriage to speak to him, and she returned with a packet which she had not had when she got out, at least so it seemed to me; then we drove byles grandes allées, and in ten minutes' time we had reached the high road.
Three hours later we were at Soissons, which we entered about five o'clock in the afternoon—that is to say, two or three hours after the prisoners.
The town was in a great uproar, and they demanded our passports; it was, as the reader may guess, the very thing my mother had forgotten to bring with her.
As they insisted, we begged the policeman who had made this inconvenient request to come with us to the hôtel desTrois-Pucelles, where we always stopped on our visits to Soissons; there, the proprietor would answer for us.
We had also a distant cousin living in the town, a baker, whose name I have totally forgotten.
But he lived in the opposite suburb to that through whichwe had entered, while the hôtel desTrois-Pucelleswas only a hundred steps away.
The policeman made no difficulty about accompanying us there.
As my mother expected, when we got there, the host burst out laughing in the policeman's face: he made himself answerable for us, and there the matter ended.
We asked for a room and dinner; and, although my mother had taken nothing all day but a cup of coffee, she ate very little; she was evidently greatly preoccupied.
After dinner, she sent for our host and asked him news of the prisoners.
It will easily be believed that they were the topic of the hour, and there was probably not a house throughout the town where a similar conversation to ours was not being held at that moment.
The arrival of the three carriages and their escort had made as great a sensation as it had in Villers-Cotterets; with this difference, however, that Soissons, instead of being Royalist like the county town, was Bonapartist.
This was not to be wondered at, for Soissons, being a fortified town, took its political opinions from the army.
Our host, in particular, greatly deplored the fall of the Government; he was therefore much distressed on account of the poor conspirators, and was able to give us the information concerning them which my mother wanted.
They had been taken to the town prison. My mother sighed, and I heard her say to herself:
"Oh! so much the better! I was afraid they would be in the military prison."
That was indeed where it was intended to take them; but the feeling among the soldiers was known. The defection of the 7th of the line, the rebellion of various corps which had been sent against Napoleon and had joined his standard, roused uneasiness which future events proved not to be exaggerated. So the authorities decided it was best to shut up the conspirators in the civil prison rather than in the military prison.
I listened to all these details with the greatest attention, for I felt quite sure our visit to Soissons had some connection with the event which filled everybody's mind, and the questions my mother put to our host confirmed me in this opinion.
I was not left long in suspense either, for he had scarcely left us when my mother, looking to see if we were quite alone, drew me to her and kissed me.
I looked at her, for there was something unusual and almost solemn in her embrace.
"Listen, my boy," she said: "I am perhaps wrong in lending my hand to such an enterprise, but when I saw those poor friends of ours go by, when I realised that mayhap in three days' time their bodies will be riddled with bullets, the sight of the uniform they wore, the same uniform that your father wore as a general, moved me to come to Soissons with you and to send you to play, as you have been accustomed to do, with the son of the prison warder; and, when inside—"
My mother stopped short.
"And when there?" I asked her.
"Tell me," replied my mother, "do you clearly remember the prisoners' faces?"
"Oh! mother, not only can I see them now, but I believe I shall always see them."
"Very well! it is probable that one or other of the three prisoners will sleep in the room calledla pistole.... Do you know whichla pistoleis?"
My mother put me on my mettle. As though I did not knowla pistole,I, who knew every nook and cranny of the prison!
"La pistole," I replied, "I know well enough which that is! It is a room leading out of the keeper's dining-room, where they put prisoners who can pay forty sous."
"That is the one! Very well! it is probable, as I have told you, that one or other of the three prisoners will have been put inla pistole; it is also probable that the one to be put there will be the eldest of the brothers Lallemand, to whom the otherswill have conceded this luxury; it is also probable that the door ofla pistoleleading into the big room where the keeper has his meals may stay open.... Well, then, while playing with your little friend in the large hall, you must find an excuse for enteringla pistole, and then, without being seen, you must give this packet to the one of the three prisoners who happens to be inla pistole."
"Indeed I will."
"Only, you will be very careful, my child."
"Of what?"
"Not to hurt yourself."
"Not to hurt myself—then what is there in the parcel?"
"A brace of double-barrelled pistols, ready loaded."
I understood that with the help of these pistols the prisoners might perhaps be able to escape, or at least, if the worst came to the worst, to blow out their brains.
"Mother," I said, "it seems to me that instead of carrying the packet, which might be noticed, and consequently taken away from me, it would be very much better if I were to put a pistol in each of my trousers pockets."
"But if you were to be wounded."
"Oh! don't be afraid; I can manage better than that," and in a trice I untied the parcel, and handled the triggers of the four barrels in a manner worthy of a pupil of Montagnon.
"All right," said my mother, somewhat reassured by the proof of my dexterity I had just given her; "I believe you are right; put the pistols in your pocket, and take great care the butts do not touch. Now here is a little roll."
This roll reminded me of the precious box whose cover the mole had eaten.
"Ah! there is gold inside?" I exclaimed.
"Yes," said my mother. "There are fifty louis in that roll—take great care not to lose it, for if the prisoners do not accept the money, I must give it back to the person who gave it."
"See, mother! I will put the roll in my fob."
I had no watch, but I had a fob.
I stuffed the roll in my fob, and flattened my waistcoat down over it.
Luckily, my poor mother always made my clothes too long and too large, to allow of my growing taller and stouter; so the pistols and the roll of gold could lie in my pockets and in the fob without appearing to bulge out too much.
"And now," I said, "I am ready."
Then my mother's courage seemed to fail her.
"Oh!" she cried, "if they discover what you are doing in that prison! if they were to arrest you!"
"I will not let them take me," I replied, drawing myself up with one of those braggart airs which made me so ridiculous when I affected them; "am I not armed?"
My mother shrugged her shoulders.
"My dear," she said, "the prisoners were armed also, and you saw them pass through Villers-Cotterets each between two policemen."
I would fain have replied; but my mother's argument was so obviously true that I had not courage to venture on another boast.
Besides, time was flying; it was nearly seven o'clock in the evening, and under the circumstances perhaps I might not be able to get inside the prison if I delayed any longer.
My mother gave a last glance to see that the pistols and the roll were not visible; she fastened round my neck a short cape which I used to wear in wet weather going to college, when the college existed, and we took our way towards the prison.
Although my dear mother tried to hide her emotion, her hand trembled in mine. As for me, I did not even suspect that we ran any danger whatever in doing what we were about to do.
When we reached the prison, my mother knocked at the door, and the wicket was opened.
"Who is there?" asked the voice of the keeper.
"My dear M. Richard," said my mother (as far as I can recollect, Richard was the good man's name),—"my dearM. Richard, here is Alexandre, who has come to play with your son, while I go and pay a call."
"Ah! is that you, Madame Dumas?" said the keeper. "Will you not favour us by coming in for a moment?"
"No, thank you, I am in a hurry; I will come back for Alexandre in about half an hour."
"All right—come when you like;" and the keeper began turning two or three keys in two or three different locks.
Then the door opened.
In a sort of entry which separated the street entrance from the keeper's room some guns and bayonets glistened.
My mother shuddered and pressed me to her.
"Do not be afraid," I said to her.
"Oh!" said my mother,"oh!It looks as though you had increased your garrison, M. Richard."
"Yes, do you know why?" said the keeper.
"I expect it is on account of the prisoners who came here to-night."
"Yes, as they are of high rank in the army, we could not refuse to put them inla pistole; but the guard has been doubled."
My mother squeezed my hand; I replied by pressing hers.
"Is there any news about them?" she asked.
"Nothing promising, Madame Dumas, nothing promising.... They are going to be taken to la Fère; then a Court-martial will try them, deliver judgment and, bang! all will be over."
The keeper made a gesture as though aiming a gun.
This horrid pantomime was but too intelligible.
"Could Alexandre have a look at them?" my mother asked.
"Why not? They are all three there inla pistole,on beds of sacking, as quiet as lambs. They have already asked for Charles a dozen times; he is as friendly with them as though he had known them for ten years."
"Oh! mother," I said in my turn, "I should much like to see them."
"All right, go with M. Richard and you shall see them—go."
My mother pronounced the last word with a swelling heart, but nevertheless with firmness; for she let go my hand at the same time and pushed me towards the keeper.
I nodded to her, and rushed into the lower room, shouting:
"It is I, Charles!"
Charles recognised my voice, and ran up to me.
"Oh!" he said, "if only you had come a bit sooner.... Hutin has just gone."
Hutin was a playfellow of ours, of whom I shall have occasion to speak later, with reference to the Revolution of July and my expedition to Soissons, where, more fortunate than the generals Lallemand, I carried off the town's supply of powder.
"Oh! what a pity he has gone ... but we can play just the same without him, can't we?" I said.
"Certainly."
"All right, come on."
And we went into the lower hall.
"We mustn't make too much noise," said Charles to me.
"Why not?"
"Because there are people inla pistole."
"Oh! I know that—the prisoners.... I say, I should like to see them."
"They sent me out again just now, saying they wanted to sleep."
"Tell them I also am the son of a general. They must have known my father."
Charles went up to the door.
"Monsieur Lallemand," he said, "there is a playfellow of mine here who comes from Villers-Cotterets and who says you must know his father."
"What is his name?"
"He is called Alexandre Dumas."
"Is he the son of General Alexandre Dumas?" asked one of the brothers Lallemand.
"Yes, General," I replied, and I entered.
"Is that you, my lad?" said the general.
"Yes, General, here I am."
"Come, my boy, come, ... it is always a pleasure for a soldier to see the son of a brave man, and your father was brave. Is he dead?"
"Yes, General; he died eight years ago."
"And you have come to Soissons?"
"Yes, General."
Then in a low voice I added:
"To see you."
"What! to see me?"
"Yes ... send Charles away."
A single candle lightedla pistole; it stood on the table near the general's bed. He pretended to snuff it, and he extinguished it.
"Confound it!" he said, "I am clever.... Charles, go and light this candle again for us."
Charles took the candle and went into the lower room. We were left in the dark.
"What do you want with me, my lad?" asked the prisoner.
"General," I said, "I am commissioned by my mother and by friends of yours to give you a pair of double-barrelled pistols ready loaded, and a roll of fifty louis. I have them all in my pockets: will you have them?"
The general did not speak for a moment, then I felt him bring his face nearer to mine.
"Thank you, little friend," he said, and he kissed my forehead; "the emperor will be in Paris before our trial takes place."
Then he kissed me again.
"Thank you, you are a brave boy; go and play, and take care they do not suspect you came to see us."
"Are you certain, General, that you will not need either the pistols or the money?"
"No, thank you: the same offer has already been made me this evening, and I declined it."
"Then I may tell those who are frightened about you, that you have no fear?"
The general began to laugh.
"Yes, tell them that."
And he kissed me for the last time, and pushed me gently towards the door.
Charles returned with the light.
"Thank you, my boy," he said. "We really must go to sleep. Good-night."
"Good-night, General."
And I went out ofla pistole.
Half an hour later, my mother came to fetch me. I embraced Charles, I thanked old Richard and I ran and threw my arms round my mother's neck.
"Well?" she asked.
"Well, mother, he refused everything."
"What! he refused everything?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He said that the emperor would be in Paris before they had shot himself or his companions."
"God send it may be so!" said my mother, and she led me away.
The next day we left at daybreak.
The fifty louis were returned to the lender; but, in commemoration of the courage I had shown in the undertaking, the pistols were given to me. They were splendid double-barrelled pistols, mounted in silver, and were, oddly enough, destined to play a prominent part in the same town of Soissons in 1830.
General Lallemand was not mistaken. Napoleon's march was so rapid that he got the start of the trial; besides, the judges themselves were not apparently sorry to delay matters, and so laid aside their responsibility.
On the 21st March, at six o'clock in the morning, a courier rushed into Villers-Cotterets at full speed. It was hardly light, but a good number of people were already at their doors to hear the news, and all thronged round the courier as he changed horses.
"Well?" they asked him, "what news?"
"Well, gentlemen," he said, "His Majesty the Emperor and King made his entrance into the Tuileries at eight o'clock last night."
A tremendous excitement ensued, and everybody flew off to tell the news; the postmaster alone remained.
"And you are going to spread this news through the department" he asked.
"No; I am carrying the order to set generals Lallemand at liberty."
The horse was saddled, he leapt up and rode off at a gallop.
The same day a barouche with four horses passed through at a great pace, making much commotion. It contained three superior officers. As the carriage drove along the rue de Soissons the window was let down opposite the house where the eldest of the brothers Lallemand had been so shamefully insulted. The woman who had spat in his face was on her doorstep when the smiling face of the general passed by her.
"Well, madame, here we are," he said, "safe and sound; every dog has his day."
And he leant back in the carriage, which continued its way towards Paris.
"Never you mind, you villain!" said the woman, shaking her fist at the retiring carriage,—"our turn will come again."
And indeed it did return. The assassinations of Marshal Brune, of General Mouton-Duverney, and of General Ramel testified to the fact.
In 1840 or 1842 I was dining at the house of M. le duc de Cazes with this same General Lallemand, whom I had never seen since the day he had embraced me inla pistoleof the prison at Soissons. Twenty-eight years had passed since that day, and had carried away almost as many events in their train as days.
The man's hair had turned white, and the boy's hair had become grey.
After dinner, I went up to the general.
"General," I said, "do you remember March the 14th, 1815?"
"March the 14th, 1815?" repeated the general, trying to search his memory. "I remember it well! it is a date of great importance in my life. March 14th, 1815, was the day my brother and I were arrested after our attempt on la Fère.... Yes, I recall March 14th, 1815."
"Do you recollect passing through a little town called Villers-Cotterets?"
"Before or after my arrest?"
"After, General: you were in a carriage, seated between two policemen; your brother followed you in a second carriage, and one of your aides-de-camp was in a third. Six or eight other policemen accompanied you."
"Oh! I remember it perfectly, and this proves it: a woman climbed on to the step of my carriage and spat in my face."
"That was so, General; your memory is good."
"Oh! do you suppose one forgets things like that?"
"No, General, I do not say such things are easily forgotten.... May I ask you if you remember something else?"
"Proceed."
"Do you remember passing the night in the prison at Soissons?"
"I remember it perfectly—in a room adjoining the gaol."
"Do you recollect receiving a visit there?"
"Yes, from a boy of twelve or fourteen years of age."
"Who came to offer you from your friends—"
"Fifty louis and a brace of pistols! I remember it perfectly."
"You have forgotten to say, General, that you kissed that lad on the forehead."
"The deuce! and he deserved it indeed. Is it by any chance that boy—?"
"Was myself, General, a trifle taller, a trifle older since that day; but myself, all the same. That was why I would not be introduced to you, I wanted to introduce myself."
The general took hold of both my hands and looked me full in the face.