A deputation was organized to carry the petition. M. Duplay had work to do at the Palais Royal. He advised me to follow the delegates, and then return to report to him what had passed. We arrived at the Champ de Mars. As the report had spread about that the petition would be taken there, thousands of people had assembled. The altar of the country was surmounted with an immense picture, representing the apotheosis of Voltaire. The delegates mounted almost to the top of the altar, and commenced the reading; but they saw a group approaching, whom they recognised as members of the Cordeliers. They were received with acclamation, and, on their behalf, the reading was again commenced. All went well till the phrase introduced by M. Laclos, “_By all constitutional means_.” “Pardon,” said a voice; “would you mind reading that passage again?” The reader continued, “_By all constitutional means_.” “Stop!” cried the same voice. A man then approached. “Citizen,” said he, “my name is Bonneville. I am editor of _The Mouth of Iron_. The people are deceived.” “Yes, yes, yes!” cried the Cordeliers. “How deceive the people?” said the delegate charged with the reading of the petition. “I say, for the second time, that the people are deceived!” cried Bonneville. “‘_By all constitutional means_,’ signifies ‘_by a regency_.’ And what is a regency? The royalty of D’Orleans in the place of the royalty of Louis XVI.” “In the place of the royalty of Capet!” cried a voice that I recognised as having heard before. “How Capet?” said a Jacobin. “Without doubt,” replied the same mocking voice. “Since the nobles no longer have titles—since M. Mirabeau called himself only Riquetti—since M. de Lafayette called himself only M. Moltier—the King Louis XVI can call himself only Capet.” “Take care,” said a Jacobin; “France is not yet ripe for a republic.” “If she is not ripe for a republic,” cried Camille Desmoulins—for that was the man to whom the voice I recognised belonged—“how is it that she is rotten for monarchy?” “To the vote—to the vote!” all cried. They voted, and, with almost perfect unanimity, declared that the obnoxious phrase should be cut out. Then, in the enthusiasm which followed this vote, they all swore neither to recognise Louis XVI nor any other King. On the morrow, Sunday, it was arranged that the people, forewarned by notice posted on the walls, should go to sign the petition on the altar. “Still, citizen, we lack one thing.” “What is that?” asked Camille Desmoulins. “It is to have the law on our side.” “We have it; since the Assembly have suspended the King, we have deposed him.” “We must get from the Hotel de Ville an authorization to hold the meeting to-morrow.” All started for the Hotel de Ville. They had but to keep on the quays; but the distance was rather a lengthy one; but as the refusal of the Mayor might spoil all, and as I wished to give a report to M. Duplay, I went with the others to the Hotel de Ville.