"No; I am carrying the order to set generals Lallemand at liberty."
The horse was saddled, he leapt up and rode off at a gallop.
The same day a barouche with four horses passed through at a great pace, making much commotion. It contained three superior officers. As the carriage drove along the rue de Soissons the window was let down opposite the house where the eldest of the brothers Lallemand had been so shamefully insulted. The woman who had spat in his face was on her doorstep when the smiling face of the general passed by her.
"Well, madame, here we are," he said, "safe and sound; every dog has his day."
And he leant back in the carriage, which continued its way towards Paris.
"Never you mind, you villain!" said the woman, shaking her fist at the retiring carriage,—"our turn will come again."
And indeed it did return. The assassinations of Marshal Brune, of General Mouton-Duverney, and of General Ramel testified to the fact.
In 1840 or 1842 I was dining at the house of M. le duc de Cazes with this same General Lallemand, whom I had never seen since the day he had embraced me in la pistole of the prison at Soissons. Twenty-eight years had passed since that day, and had carried away almost as many events in their train as days.
The man's hair had turned white, and the boy's hair had become grey.
After dinner, I went up to the general.