Not a sign of any artillerymen! I thought that, like Victor Hugo's kettle-drummers, the artillerymen must have passed and I decided to go in alone. Had I not been so preoccupied with my unpunctuality, I should have remarked the strange looks people cast at me all round; but I saw nothing, thanks to my absent-mindedness, except that the group of officers, with whom I intermingled to enter the king's chamber, made a movement from centre to circumference, which left me as completely isolated as though I was suspected of bringing infection of cholera, which was beginning to be talked about in Paris. I attributed this act of repulsion to the part the artillery had played during the recent disturbances, and as I, for my part, was quite ready to answer for the responsibility of my own actions, I went in with my head held high. I should say, that out of the score of officers who formed the group I had honoured with my presence, I seemed to be the only one who attracted the attention of the king; he even gazed at me with such surprise that I looked around to find the cause of this incomprehensible stare. Among those present some put on a scornful smile, others seemed alarmed; and the expression of others, again, seemed to say: "Seigneur; pardon us for having come in with that man!" The whole thing was inexplicable to me. I went up to the king, who was so good as to speak to me. "Ah! good day, Dumas!" he said to me; "that's just like you! I recognise you well enough! It is just like you to come!" I looked at the king and, for the life of me, I could not tell what he was alluding to. Then, as he began laughing, and all the good courtiers round imitated his example, I smiled in company with everybody else, and went on my way. In the next room where my steps led me I found Vatout, Oudard, Appert, Tallencourt, Casimir Delavigne and a host of my old comrades. They had seen me through the half-open door and they, too, were all laughing. This universal hilarity began to confuse me. "Ah!" said Vatout. "Well, you have a nerve, my friend!" "What do you mean?" "Why, you have just paid the king a New Year's visit in a dress of _dissous_." By _dissous_ understand _dix sous_ (ten sous). Vatout was an inveterate punster. "I do not understand you," I said, very seriously. "Come now," he said. "You aren't surely going to try to make us believe that you did not know the king's order!" "What order?" "The disbandment of the artillery, of course!" "What! the artillery is disbanded?" "Why, it is in black and white in the _Moniteur!_" "You are joking. Do I ever read the _Moniteur?_" "You are right to say that." "But, by Jove! I say it because it is true!" They all began laughing again.