Alexandre de la Borde—Odilon Barrot—Colonel Dumoulin—Hippolyte Bonnelier—My study—A note in Oudard's handwriting—The Duc de Chartres is arrested at Montrouge—The danger he incurred and how he was saved—I propose to go to Soissons to fetch gunpowder—I procure my commission from General Gérard—La Fayette draws up a proclamation for me—The painter bard—M. Thiers to the fore once more
The foregoing incidents were all taking place at the time I was finishing my repast at the inn of the Prunes de Monsieur. I crossed through all the crowds encamped in the place de l'Hôtel de Ville, resting so quietly and cheerfully, in ignorance that the political Cyclops had set to work again and was busy forging a fresh chain out of the old broken one—an eloquent metaphor M. Odilon Barrot might have made use of in speaking at the Tribunal, had there been a Tribunal left.
Alexandre de la Borde was entering the great hall of the Hôtel de Ville at the same time that I was. Some men of the type that are for ever shouting out something, cried—
"Vive le préfet de la Seine!"
Odilon Barrot, whose name I have just jotted down in reference to Parliamentary eloquence, was writing at a table, dressed in the uniform of a National Guardsman. He raised his head in surprise that the former préfet of the Seine, M. de Chabrol de Volvic, could excite so much enthusiasm. He recognised Alexandre de la Borde and made a gesture of astonishment.
"Well, yes, it is I," the author of l'Itinéraire en Espagne said, with that bright, almost childish naïveté which was one of the chief characteristics of his personality; "they have just nominated me préfet of the Seine."
"You?"
"Yes, me."