It was Colonel Réné Besson. We drew near to him. Imagining that we had some business with him, he arranged himself more comfortably in his chair, and waited an explanation. “Ah, ah! is it you, Monsieur Leduc?” said he. “Yes, Colonel, it is I; and in good company, too, as you may see,” my companion replied. “Colonel, I call on you in right of being the son of one of your old companions in arms; for you took a part in the Egyptian campaign, under General Desaix?” “Yes, sir, I did,” answered he. “The fact of being the son of an old companion in arms,” I continued, “and of bearing the name of the conqueror of Murad Bey, induced me to take the liberty of calling on you, and asking for information on certain points. To commence. Were you at the battle of Valmy?” “I was with my regiment six days before, on the 2nd of September; and I just missed leaving my bones at La Force, in trying to rescue a woman—a princess, I should say.” “The Princess Lamballe?” “Exactly so.” “At this period, I was living then, in the Rue Saint Honoré with the carpenter, Duplay.” “You have seen Robespierre, then?” “Just as I have you. It was I who made the table on which he wrote the greater part of his speeches.” “And Danton?” “Danton? It was he who enrolled me on the 2nd of September. But I knew Danton, as you say, and Camilles Desmoulins, Saint Just, and afterwards, later on, the Duke D’Enghien, and even Marshal Ney.” “You have seen the Duke D’Enghien?” “I was secretary to the Minister of War who sentenced him.” “And also Marshal Ney?” “It was he who made me lieutenant-colonel in the retreat from Moscow.” “I will never leave you, Colonel; I will be your secretary, and we will write your memoirs.” “You are too late,” said he, laughing; “my memoirs are already three-fourths finished.” “What? Do you mean to say you have written——” “Oh, simply to amuse myself: and there is my secretary. Hush!” At this moment the door opened, and a beautiful girl of seventeen or eighteen came towards us. “Is that your secretary?” I asked. “Yes; Marie, my dear little granddaughter. Bow to Monsieur. You ought to, after the sleepless nights you have passed through thinking of him.” “I?” said the girl, blushing. “I do not know the gentleman!” “But you know ‘Monte Christo’ and the ‘Three Musketeers?’” “Monsieur Dumas! Is it possible?” cried she. “Yes, Monsieur Dumas. You see that you know him.” “Oh, sir, I am so glad to see you!” “You will be my accomplice, then, against the Colonel?” “Against my grandfather?” “Yes. He has written some memoirs.” “I know that. It is I who write from his dictation.” “Ah! they are worth reading.” “Oh, grandpapa, Monsieur Dumas says that your memoirs are worth reading!” “If he wishes to read them, I shall not hinder him,” said the Colonel. “Will you really permit me, sir?” “If I refused you, I should be attaching too much importance to them.”