“I came back on the 3rd instant; and I shall have no difficulty in telling you of all my doings in Paris, for I did nothing in the least out-of-the-way. I lived there like a good quiet citizen, who confines himself to groaning (since he can do nothing better) over all the afflicting things he sees. I went from time to time to see our ‘August Ones,’ and they always put me in a furious temper.” Our “August Ones,” as Vallière mockingly called them, were the members of the Constituent Assembly, and they were busied with the elaboration of that gigantic piece of work, the Constitution, which was to substitute the new order for the old traditions of France. Little by little the edifice was growing, built upon the ruins of the past. The sight of it filled with vexation and fury those who, like Frotté, deplored the fallen Royalty, the lost privileges, the dispossessed nobility, of the old order. For the rest, our chevalier, during his stay at Dunkirk, had frequent news about his fair friend at Lille. One day it would be a brother officer who would write, “I played cards yesterday with your fair lady, who looked as pretty as an angel, if angels ever _are_ so pretty as were told they are. She is going to have her portrait painted in oils by my favourite artist. I dare say she’ll manage somehow to get a copy done in miniature for her Chevalier!”[24] Or another time he would be told to come to a concert at which a place had been taken for him.... In a word, the time went on; and, kicking against the pricks, our young soldier awaited the moment when he might bring his plans to realization. From month to month the spirit of insubordination which had crept into the regiment with the events at Lille was gaining ground, and showing itself more and more overtly. The Garde Nationale recently formed at Dunkirk showed signs of it. At the head of this was an enterprising officer, of the “new order,” named Emmery, who sought persistently to win the troops of the garrison over to his own way of thinking. But he found his match in the colonel of the regiment, the Chevalier de Théon, a staunch Royalist, who had no intention of pandering with the enemy. In a small place like Dunkirk, shut up between its ramparts--the barracks were in the middle of the town--it was physically impossible to prevent the soldiers from coming in contact with the townsfolk. M. de Théon and his officers (the majority of whom were on his side) had seen that very clearly; and suddenly, in the month of June, they resolved to try a bold stroke. Dunkirk was only five leagues from the Austrian frontier, which was some hours’ distance from Brussels, where already the forces of resistance of the anti-revolutionary party were concentrating. They resolved on winning Belgium to their cause, on gaining over the troops, and on offering their services to the Prince’s Army, which was forming beyond the frontier.