“Daily,” records Juliette, “we expected the arrival of our _protégée_, our _atelier national_, as we called him.” He had been instructed by the famous letter to present himself at the Pensionnat André, and to announce himself as Juliette Lambert’s _protégée_. His benefactresses meanwhile were busily preparing for his arrival. Cakes and sweetmeats were tabooed. “_Nous économisions avec frénésie_,” writes Juliette. They also, under every imaginable pretext, begged from their friends and relatives. One of them had been so fortunate as to obtain a suit of clothes belonging to her brother. Having cleaned and mended it with the greatest care, she kept it in readiness for the _atelier national_, who would doubtless arrive in rags. Meanwhile the plot was kept a dead secret; for the conspirators were well aware that their sympathy for _ces monstres des ateliers nationaux_ would meet with no encouragement at home. While at Chauny the Mlles. André’s pupils were eagerly awaiting the arrival of their expected _monstre_, at Paris affairs were moving quickly. The men who had been paid forty cents a day for digging trenches in the Champs de Mars and filling them up again were sticking to their job in defiance of the Government’s orders to disband. The Socialists sympathised with them and organised street manifestations in their favour. Finally, on the 23rd of June, the capital broke out into open insurrection. It was at this juncture that Juliette received, not the eagerly expected _atelier national_, but a letter from Professor Charles which dashed all her hopes to the ground. He, to whom had been entrusted that elegant epistle to the minister, had basely deserted the young friends who had confided in him. Professor Charles had no sympathy with the State-employed workmen; he described them in his letter to Juliette as _ces misérables qui t’intéressent_. Charles was immediately banished from Juliette’s heart. Her _ex-ami Charles_, she called him, severely, when she announced to her comrades this terrible disappointment. Then there followed much secret confabulation among the Republican groups of the _pension_. The pupils agreed that while blood was flowing in the streets of Paris, they at Chauny could not remain inactive. Already the revolution in the capital was finding an echo in the provincial town. Bands of rebels were marching down the streets. Why should not _les demoiselles de la pension André_ join them? Juliette counted among her treasures a large handkerchief given her by her father and emblazoned with the words: _Vive la République, Démocratique et Sociale_. Attaching this emblem to a pole abstracted from the wood-shed, the girls, under Juliette’s leadership, organised themselves into a procession and marched round the playground, crying: “Long live the Democratic and Social Republic. Long live the rebels. We will not disband. We will not disband.”