"You would break open the prefect's door!" exclaimed the stupefied concierge. "Yes," said Charras. "By Jove! what a gift of the gab the fellow has!" The concierge opened to them: he was only half awake, half brushed up and half dressed. "Come now, take me to the prefect." "But I tell you he is asleep." "And I tell you to proceed to his room, you rogue!" He gave the concierge a kick that made him climb the stairs in double quick time and, opening the prefect's room, the concierge placed his tallow candle on the night-table, revealing to Charras a man who was rubbing his eyes; then the concierge went out, saying-- "There is M. le Préfet, settle what you like with him." The prefect raised himself on his elbow. "What!" he said,--"what do they want with me?" "I want to inform you, Monsieur le Préfet," said Charras, "that, whilst you are sleeping tranquilly, there are ten thousand men round Rambouillet who are mad with hunger through your fault." "How through my fault, pray?" "No doubt of it.... Did you not receive an order to send off ten thousand rations of bread to Cognières?" "Well, monsieur?" "Well, monsieur, those ten thousand rations are still in Versailles, that is all I can say." "Heavens! What do you want me to do?" "Want you to do? Oh! that is plain enough.... I want you to get up and come with me to the military bakehouse to have the bread loaded in carriages; I want you to give the order for them to start on their journey at once." "But, monsieur, you speak in such a tone...." "I speak as I ought." "Do you know who I am?" "What does it matter to me who you are?" "Monsieur, I am M. Aubernon, Prefect of Seine-et-Oise." "And I, monsieur, am M. Charras, first aide-de-camp to General Pajol, commander-in-chief of the Expeditionary Army of the West, and I have orders to shoot you if you do not instantly send off the bread." "To shoot _me?_" cried the prefect, leaping up in his bed. "Neither more nor less than that.... Will you run the risk?" "Monsieur, I will get up and go with you to the bakehouse." "So, well and good!" The prefect rose and went with Charras to the bakehouse, where the carts were loaded with the bread. "I will leave you here, monsieur," said Charras; "for you know it is to your best interest to send the carriages off quickly." And back the indefatigable messenger went, along the road to Cognières.