My pistols took twenty-four size, and it would be a chance, indeed, to find bullets of that calibre.
"Wait a bit," said Cartier, "I can manage that. Have you any bullets in your pocket?"
"Yes, but only size twenty."
"Give me four of them, or rather eight; it is best to have a re-load...."
I gave him eight bullets. Five minutes later, he brought me them back, elongated into slug shot, so that they fitted into the pistols. They were cleaned out, loaded and primed with the greatest care; just as though preparations were being made for a duel. Then for the last time we drank to the success of the enterprise; embraced each other several times and got into the trap, Hutin, Bard and myself; the postillion mounted his horses, and we set off at full gallop along the road to Soissons in the midst of cries of farewell and cheers of encouragement from my dear good friends. Two hours after we had left Villers-Cotterets the gate of Soissons opened at the voice and name of Hutin, and the gatekeeper let us in to the town, little knowing he was giving entrance to the Revolution.
[CHAPTER V]
Arrival at Soissons—Strategic preparations—Reconnaissance round the magazine—Hutin and Bard plant the tricolour flag upon the cathedral—I climb the wall of the powder magazine—Captain Mollard—Sergeant Ragon—Lieutenant-Colonel d'Orcourt—Parleys with them—They promise me neutrality