"Then we shall meet again?" "Probably." "Good-day!" "Adieu!" We managed with the greatest difficulty to push our way to the distributor of arms. Fortunately, a valet in the livery of the Duc d'Orléans recognised me, and made room for us. "Monsieur de Rumigny," he said, "here is M. Dumas." "Very well, let him come to me." The distributor was M. de Rumigny himself: he was then about thirty-five, and was a splendid figure in his uniform. He had a big case full of swords and pistols in front of him; the rifles had all gone. They had come from Lepage. Swords and pistols were given to my men, and then, when all had been equipped, M. de Rumigny asked-- "Are your men thirsty?" "Rather," I said, "they are scene-shifters from the théâtre de l'Odéon!" "Give them a glass of wine each, then." They went to a table full of bottles and glasses, and were served by His Royal Highness's own lackeys. "Well?" I asked, when they had drunk. "The livery is fine enough," they replied, "but the wine is poor." "What do you mean?" "It is not equal to that you sent us out on the place de l'Odéon.... We bet this wine here is not worth twelve sous a bottle." "If you have any more like it again to-night, upon my word I shall think you very lucky." "Messieurs," said a lackey, "please make room now for others." "Quite right": so we went out. Paris presented quite a new aspect--it seemed incredible after the many different spectacles it had been exhibiting. Whether the cabs were chartered by the Government, or whether their drivers shared the general enthusiasm, they placed themselves at the disposal of the combatants. At the corner of the rue Saint-Roch I caught sight of Charles Ledru running at full speed. I called out to him-- "Hi! come with us." "Have you room for me?" "We are only nine inside, and if we squeeze up a little more we can get you in." "Thanks, I have a horse ready for me at Kausmann's." "Stop," I said, "that reminds me I have one too.... I always forget it." I had only had it a short time. I pulled up before my friend Hiraux's café, porte Saint-Honoré, and he regaled all my men with a _petit verre_ of eau-de-vie. The bottle was emptied in the process. But, as the flag waved, my men sang the _Marseillaise_ and the drum beat a roll. We had taken nearly three-quarters of an hour in coming from the Palais-Royal to the porte Saint-Honoré, the street was so crowded and the carriages walked in files as at Longchamp.