On the next morning, I was awakened by M. Duplay, after a most persistent shaking, which, in my sleep, I attributed to other causes. “Ah!” said he; “when you sleep you do sleep, and no mistake, you drowsy provincials.” “Bah!” said I. “It is you, then, who have been trying to awaken, me?” “Yes; and who tried last night, but could not succeed.” “What did you wish of me?” “Citizen Réné Besson, I fancied that you would excuse the breach of hospitality, when you knew that I had something most important to tell you.” “Well, I am all attention, M. Duplay.” “Call me Citizen,” said Duplay, pluming himself. “Well, I listen to you, citizen.” “As you know, I went to the club last night.” “Yes.” “There I met M. Chanderlos de Laclos.” “Citizen Laclos, you mean, I suppose?” “I stand corrected. All men are now equal. Well, I met Citizen Laclos, and told him all that you had related to me concerning the journey of the King to Paris. Do you know what he asked me? He asked me to take you to the Palais Royal, in order that you may give your version of the affair to the Duc d’Orleans.” “I?” “Yes, thou! In the meantime, you had better dress yourself.” “Do I go this morning, then?” “Between nine and ten o’clock.” “What time is it now?” “Half-past eight.” “You know, I suppose, that my only costume is that of a National Guard?” “It is the costume of patriots.” “But still, when one goes near princes! Does my coat want brushing?” “Leave that to Catherine. You occupy yourself with putting on a clean shirt, if you have any. I will see that your clothes and boots are brushed. If you have not any clean linen, I can lend you some.” “Thank you; I have all that I require in my bag.” “Dress, then; don’t waste time.” And Maître Duplay, Republican though he was, enchanted to conduct me before a prince, took my coat, hat, trousers and boots, down stairs for Catherine to brush. At nine o’clock exactly, I was ready. We went along the Rue St. Honoré to the Rue de Valois, and, arm-in-arm, entered the Palais Royal by the gate which opens into that street. Maître Duplay gave his name. _Citizen_ Laclos had, no doubt, given previous orders, for we were immediately admitted. Arrived at the first floor, no sooner had Duplay given his name, than they sent at once for M. Chanderlos de Laclos. M. Chanderlos de Laclos rushed up. “Is this the young fellow?” asked he. “Himself,” replied M. Duplay. “Let him come into the presence of his Highness.” He conducted me along a straight corridor into a boudoir, which led into a bed-room, the open door of which allowed me to see that the bed was unmade. The open windows, with the closed jalousies, gave access to a most refreshing breeze.