“In fact,” (he says) “since fresh troubles are overwhelming me, I have decided not to choose this moment for suicide. _I want to be quite calm, on the day that I set out on the Great Journey._... The month of August saw my birth; it shall see my death.... But I don’t want to play for effect. I try my best to seem just the same and to let no one guess what I am thinking of.... Then there’s another reason for my going on with life. Since I was born a nobleman of France, I want to do my duty as one.... My sword may still be of some use to my King and to my friends; and since I must die, I want my death to benefit my family and my country.... I shall fasten up this confession, until the moment comes for me to die. If I have the good luck to fight, and die in the cause of honour, this, my dear Lamberville, will console you a little, for it will prove to you that death was a comfort to me. If disorder and dissolution are still reigning in France when August comes, if there has been no attempt to restore order--then I shall lose all hope, and all the reasons that I give you here will acquire full force. I shall not be able to hesitate. I shall then take up my pen again to add my last wishes, and my last farewell to my tenderest and dearest friend.” In spite of the melancholy tone of these pages, their author had finally taken the advice which came to him from all directions, from people who loved him and were in his confidence, and who deeply grieved to hear of such a state of mind. There was none more loyal than that young Vallière of whom we have already spoken. At that time he was on leave in the Caux district. Frotté and he were very intimate, and Vallière knew every step that was made towards the carrying out of the plot which had been arranged simultaneously at Lille and at Dunkirk. “I am very sorry,” he wrote to his friend on November 13, 1790, “that the things you had to tell me could only be entrusted to me verbally. However, in the absence of further knowledge, there was nothing for me to do but simply come here,[22] where in any case I had business, and where I am now waiting quietly for the carrying out of the promises you made me, being, as you know, fully prepared. But, my dear fellow, I see with amazement that nothing as yet is happening to verify your forecast. Can you possibly have been prematurely sanguine, or has the plan miscarried? Perhaps it is merely a question of delay--Well! That is all right, and I hope that’s what it is.”[23] Two months later, Vallière, who had doubtless gone to Paris to make inquiries, gave the following account of his journey:--