"Yes," said Laffitte, "and you do not want any negotiations, is that it, my friend?" "We want no more Bourbons and no more Jesuits!" was the cry being shouted in the antechambers. This cry was taken up even in the street outside. "You see and hear for yourself?" said M. Laffitte. "Then you will listen to nothing?" "Is your business official?" M. d'Argout hesitated. "I must confess," he replied, "that it is not." "Then you will plainly see that I cannot answer you, since any reply I made would lead to nothing!" "But, if I returned with an official authorisation," urged M. d'Argout, anxious to sound the situation from every side. "Ah!" said M. Laffitte, "we will cross that bridge when we come to it!" M. d'Argout shook his head and withdrew. "Well?" M. de Vitrolles asked him. "All is lost, my dear Baron!" the future Director of the Bank replied, with a sigh. "But suppose a final effort were made to force M. de Mortemart upon Paris?" "Why, in desperate cases any means are worth trying." "To Saint-Cloud, then!" "To Saint-Cloud!" "That devil of an Oudard is a long time bringing me the duke's answer," Laffitte murmured impatiently. "Perhaps," replied Béranger, "the duke is somewhat long in giving it him...." [1] See _l'Histoire de dix ans_, by Louis Blanc. CHAPTER III Alexandre de la Borde--Odilon Barrot--Colonel Dumoulin--Hippolyte Bonnelier--My study--A note in Oudard's handwriting--The Duc de Chartres is arrested at Montrouge--The danger he incurred and how he was saved--I propose to go to Soissons to fetch gunpowder--I procure my commission from General Gérard--La Fayette draws up a proclamation for me--The painter bard--M. Thiers to the fore once more The foregoing incidents were all taking place at the time I was finishing my repast at the inn of the _Prunes de Monsieur._ I crossed through all the crowds encamped in the place de l'Hôtel de Ville, resting so quietly and cheerfully, in ignorance that the political Cyclops had set to work again and was busy forging a fresh chain out of the old broken one--an eloquent metaphor M. Odilon Barrot might have made use of in speaking at the Tribunal, had there been a Tribunal left. Alexandre de la Borde was entering the great hall of the Hôtel de Ville at the same time that I was. Some men of the type that are for ever shouting out something, cried-- "_Vive le préfet de la Seine!_" Odilon Barrot, whose name I have just jotted down in reference to Parliamentary eloquence, was writing at a table, dressed in the uniform of a National Guardsman. He raised his head in surprise that the former préfet of the Seine, M. de Chabrol de Volvic, could excite so much enthusiasm. He recognised Alexandre de la Borde and made a gesture of astonishment.