The information was perfectly correct: we found the little door of the Institut, and the _monsieur_ who was distributing powder. Who was the gentleman and where did he hail from? And on whose behalf did he distribute this powder? I know nothing about it and shall certainly not put myself out about the question now, as I did not allow it to trouble me at the time. I simply state the bare facts. A queue had been formed, as you may suppose. Each man armed with a gun received a dozen charges of powder; every man with a pistol received six. The _monsieur_ did not keep bullets; and these I hoped to procure at Joubert's, in the Dauphine passage. I left my men in the street and went alone to Joubert's, for fear of alarming those who lived down the passage. Joubert had gone off with Godefroy Cavaignac and Guinard. Cavaignac and Guinard had quarrelled; but, when they met by chance at Joubert's, guns in hand, they fell into one another's arms and made it up. In spite of the absence of the master of the house, they gave me fifty bullets, which I took away to my men. This hardly allowed us two balls to each gun; but we pursued our way, putting our trust in Providence. As we were going to the place de Grève, we went by the rue Guénégaud, the Pont Neuf and the quai de l'Horloge. It seemed there was to be no opposition to our march, which was hastened by the sound of musketry and cannon; until, on arriving at the quai aux Fleurs, we found ourselves face to face with a whole regiment. It was the 15th Light Infantry. Thirty rifles and fifty rounds of ammunition were scarcely enough with which to attack fifteen hundred men. We pulled up. However, as the troop did not assume an aggressive attitude towards us, I made my men halt, advanced to the regiment with my gun erect and indicated by signs that I wished to speak with an officer. A captain came out to meet me. "What is your business, monsieur?" he asked. "A passage for myself and men." "Where are you going?" "To the Hôtel de Ville." "What to do?" "Why, to fight," I replied. The captain began to laugh. "Really, Monsieur Dumas," he said to me, "I didn't think you were as mad as that." "Ah! you know me?" I said. "I was on guard one night at the Odéon when _Christine_ was being played and I had the honour of seeing you." "Then let us talk like two good friends." "That is indeed what I am doing, it seems to me." "Why am I a madman?" "You are a madman, first of all, because you risk getting yourself killed, when it is not your calling to get killed; secondly, you are mad for asking us to allow you to pass through, because you know very well we shall not do so.... Besides, look what will happen to you if we grant your request--the same that has happened to these poor devils who are being brought in...." And he showed me two or three wounded, returning leaning upon the shoulders of their comrades or laid on stretchers. "Oh, ah! but you yourself? What are you doing here?" I asked him.