We had never thought of this! I was obliged to say that she had not, but she had come to accompany me. He said, rather bluntly, "If she has no card, I cannot allow her to enter." Here was a pretty plight. I told him, in the suave manner which Mademoiselle W---- had recommended to me, that Mr. Washburn would have included this lady's name on my card had he foreseen that there would be any difficulty in allowing her to follow me as my companion. "Madame, I have strict orders; I cannot disobey them." I did not wish him to disobey them; but, nevertheless, I whispered to Mademoiselle W----, "Don't leave me, stay close by me," thinking the man would not, at the last moment, refuse to allow her to remain with me. Alas! the door opened. I entered; the door closed behind me; I looked back and saw I was alone. No Mademoiselle in sight! My heart sank. I was escorted from room to room, each door guarded by an uncouth soldier, and shut promptly as I passed. I must have gone through at least seven rooms before I reached the sanctuary in which Monsieur Raoul Rigault held his _audience_. This autocrat, whom the republicans (to their eternal shame be it said) had placed in power after the 4th of September, is (and was _then_) the most successful specimen of a scamp that the human race has ever produced. At this moment Rigault has more power than any one else in Paris. When the guard opened the door he pointed to the table where Raoul Rigault was seated writing (seemingly very absorbed). He appeared to me to be a man of about thirty-five or forty years old, short, thick-set, with a full, round face, a bushy black beard, a sensuous mouth, and a cynical smile. He wore tortoise-shell eyeglasses; but these could not hide the wicked expression of his cunning eyes. I looked about me and noticed that the room had very little furniture; there was only the table at which the Prefect sat and two or three plain chairs. Just such a chamber as Robespierre might have occupied during _his République_. There were two gendarmes standing behind Rigault's chair waiting for orders, and a man (of whom I did not take particular notice) leaning against the mantelpiece at the other end of the room. I approached the table, waiting like a culprit for the all-powerful Rigault to look up and notice me. But he did not; he continued to be occupied with what he was doing. So I ventured to break the ice by saying, "Monsieur, I have come to procure a passport, and here is Mr. Washburn's card (the American Minister) to tell you who I am." He took the card without condescending to look at it, and went on writing. Getting impatient at his impertinence, I ventured again to attract his attention, and I said, as politely as possible (and as Mademoiselle could have wished), "Will you not kindly give me this passport, as I wish to leave Paris as soon as possible?"