I threw my gun over my shoulder, and took my hat in my hand.
“Madame,” said I, “if you desire one ready to die for you—to throw down his life in your behalf, your choice could not fall on one better than myself.”
They saw Madame Elizabeth take the arm of a simple National Guard, and they clapped their hands.
Arrived at the foot of the staircase, I wished to retire.
“My brother?” said she, trying to see.
I looked back.
“He is coming,” said I, “between M. Barnave and M. Pétion.”
I then bowed to Madame Elizabeth a second time.
“Will you not return to see us, sir?” asked Madame Elizabeth.
“I fear, madame, that I shall not again have the opportunity of being of service to you.”