They were also deputed to send forth all the drummers they knew of and to let these beat the _rappel._ And this was the cause of the infernal racket that had waked Paris. The Government possessed one man at this crisis on whose courage they could rely: this was General Pajol. He was the true type of a soldier; courageous, honourable, open and loyal, quick in making decisions, persistent in determination. At some battle or other, when he was either colonel or major of a regiment, just in sight of the emperor, a shell pierced his horse's stomach and burst inside it. Pajol was sent flying fifteen feet into the air. Napoleon saw the strange ascension. "By Jove!" he said, "if that beggar comes down, he must have a tough life!" A fortnight afterwards, a superior officer came and presented himself before the emperor, limping slightly. "Who are you?" asked Napoleon. "I am the tough-lived beggar," replied Pajol. And to this incident was due his rapid advance in an admirable military career, only interrupted by Waterloo. Pajol belonged to the Opposition and was almost Republican in his views. Three days before this, when the Chamber was laying the preliminary foundations of a new monarchy, Pajol, who saw the turn things were taking, was walking sadly along the rue de Chabrol, in company with Degousée, who himself deplored the direction in which the Revolution was turning, when, suddenly, Pajol stopped. "You told me, a minute ago, that you led a company of devoted men in the attack on the Louvre?" he asked. "No doubt of it." "Well, could you still rely on those men?" "I believe so." "To the pitch of executing to the letter, and without any discussion, any order you might give them?" "What sort of order?" "Suppose it were to arrest the deputies?" "Oh! I would not answer for them in that respect!" "In that case, the Revolution has miscarried!..." He went to his home, in the rue de la Ferme des Mathurins, to await the turn of events.