I related the story of old Levasseur, then all that had happened in Paris. It was now half-past eight; I had only two hours and a half in which to reach Soissons, and there were still nine long leagues to travel. The probability of succeeding was getting less and less, but I would not give in. I asked M. Labbé for horses; he brought me them immediately, and in five minutes time they were harnessed. "My goodness," said Cartier to Labbé, "I mean to go along with them. I am curious to know how it will end." And he got in with us. "Remember me to the postillion," I said to M. Labbé. And he nodded his head. "Jean-Louis," he said to the postillion. "Yes, governor." "You know old Levasseur?" "By Jove, I should think I do!" "You see that gentleman?" pointing to me. "Yes, I see him." "Well, he has just killed old Levasseur." "How?" said the postillion, gaping at me. "With a pistol shot." "What for?" "Because he wouldn't go full gallop.... So take heed, Jean-Louis." "Is that true?" the man asked, turning pale. "You can see for yourself, since monsieur has driven in himself and is using the whip and wearing boots of the deceased." Jean-Louis threw one terrified glance at the whip and the boots and then he set off at a tearing gallop, without saying another word. "Oh! my poor horses," Labbé shouted after us, "they are going to have a bad time of it." We reached Villers-Cotterets under the hour, and here quite an ovation awaited me. I had hardly given my name to the first person I met whom I knew, than the news of my arrival by post-conveyance in a trap surmounted by a tricolour flag flew all over the town as rapidly as though it had been sent on telegraph wires. As the news spread, the houses turned out the living with as great unanimity as the tombs will discharge the dead at the sound of the Last Trump. All these living beings ran to the posting-house and reached it as soon as I did. Much explanation had to be given to make them understand my costume, my rifle, my sunburnt condition, the trap, the tricolour flag and why Bard and Cartier were with me. Everybody in that beloved countryside loved me well enough to have the right to put these questions to me. I answered them all, and when the explanations were given, they cried in unison-- "Don't go to Soissons! Soissons is a Royalist town!" But it scarcely need be said that I had not come as far as Villers-Cotterets without intending to proceed to Soissons. "I not only intend to go to Soissons," I replied, "but I shall do all in my power to reach it before eleven o'clock, even if I have to give twenty francs in tips to the postillions." "If you offer them forty, you will not reach there in time," said a voice I knew; "but you will get there by midnight, and they will let you enter."