"He thought that would assist my purpose." "Then he did well." "Will not you also give me something?" "What is it you want?" "An invitation to the civil authorities to second the revolutionary movement which I am going to try and proclaim to the town. You know well enough that I could not hope to succeed unless through the instrumentality of some popular surprise." "Granted.... It shall not be said that, since you risk your life in the undertaking, I, on my side, risk nothing." And he took up a pen, and wrote the following proclamation entirely in his own fine handwriting:-- _To the Citizens of the town of Soissons_ "CITIZENS,--You are acquainted with the events that have been happening in Paris during the three ever-memorable days that have just gone by. The Bourbons have been driven out: the Louvre is taken, and the people are masters of the capital. But the three days' victors may be deprived of the victory they have so dearly bought, for want of ammunition. They, therefore, apply to you in the person of one of our combatants, M. Alexandre Dumas, who comes to make a fraternal appeal to your patriotism and devotion. All the powder that you can send to your brethren in Paris will be considered as an offering to your country. "For the Provisional Government, the Commander-General of the National Guard, LA FAYETTE "HÔTEL DE VILLE DE PARIS, 30 _July_ 1830" It will be seen that, on the whole, this proclamation did not contain much besides an appeal to patriotism and devotion. Now this was not quite what I wanted; but, there it was, and I had to make the best of it. I embraced General La Fayette, and I descended the steps from the Hôtel de Ville as fast as I could. It was now three in the afternoon; the gates of Soissons, being a fortified town, were shut at eleven at night. I must, therefore, reach Soissons before eleven, and I had twenty-four leagues to go. I caught sight of a young painter called Bard, a friend of mine, in the square. He was a handsome young fellow of eighteen, with a face as calm and impassive as a fifteenth-century marble statue. He looked just like Donatello's Saint George. I was seized with a desire to have a travelling companion, if it should only be for the purpose of getting me properly buried in case the prophecies of the two generals, La Fayette and Gérard, should come true. I went up to him. "Ah! Bard, old chum," I said, "what are you doing?" "I?" he said.... "I am looking on.... It's a queer game, is it not?" "It is something more than that," I said, "it is magnificent! What have you been doing in it all?" "Nothing.... I have no arms, but an old halberd that lies in my studio." "Would you like to make up for lost time, then, in one stroke?" "There is nothing I should like better." "Then come along with me." "Where?" "To get yourself shot." "I should love it."