Dermoncourt instantly mounted his horse and rode off to Milan. He reached there the next day but one, at seven in the morning, and dismounted at the steps of the hôtel Serbelloni, where General Bonaparte lodged. He had made part of his journey on horseback and part in a kind of _calessino_ called a _sediollo._ But here Dermoncourt met an unexpected difficulty: the aide-de-camp on duty had received instructions that no one was to be admitted to Bonaparte until nine o'clock. Dermoncourt grew angry. "But, monsieur," he said, "you can see clearly by my muddy condition that I have not come from a ball, and why I insist on seeing the commander-in-chief is because I have important news to give him." The aide-de-camp persisted in his refusal. Dermoncourt grew furious in his wish to see Bonaparte; the aide-de-camp barred the passage; Dermoncourt was a bulldog of the Republican school; he took the aide-de-camp by both shoulders, twisted him round, and passed in; but all this scuffle had not been accomplished quietly, and Dermoncourt found Bonaparte standing at the door of his room. "Now, what is the matter?"asked Bonaparte, frowning. "Upon my word, General," replied Dermoncourt, "it is not very pleasant after travelling thirty leagues in twenty-six hours to have to force one's way across the bodies of your aides-de-camp to get at you." "But what if those were the given orders?" "If those were the orders given, General," Dermoncourt replied lightly, "have me shot for transgressing orders; only, I entreat of you not to send for the picket before you have read this despatch." Bonaparte read the despatch. Then turning to his aide-de-camp he said, "You have forgotten, monsieur, that the order is not meant for any officer attached to the staff who may arrive from Mantua, and that no matter whether they come at noon or at midnight the door is open. Place yourself under arrest." The aide-de-camp saluted and went out.[1] "How did Dumas get hold of this despatch?" Bonaparte demanded. Dermoncourt related the incident with full details. "Berthier! Berthier!" shouted Bonaparte. Berthier appeared with his accustomed air of importance and gravity. "Here, Berthier," exclaimed Bonaparte, handing the despatch to him, "smell that and tell me what the scent is." "Why, General," said Berthier, "it smells of dung." "Not so bad that; you have not minced matters. Now read it." Berthier read. "Oh! oh!" he exclaimed. "Do you see, Berthier? The next battle will be called the battle of Rivoli, and, if I am not greatly mistaken, it will decide the campaign. At all events, as Alvintzy says, we have quite three weeks before us." "And as one man forewarned is worth two," said Dermoncourt, "and as even when you are not forewarned you are worth a hundred, there is surely cause for laughter."