The next morning, when I went to call on the new lieutenant-general, he was talking with Vatout and Casimir Delavigne, whom he left to come across to me. Already acquainted with my expedition to Soissons, he held out his hand and said—
"Monsieur Dumas, you have just enacted your very finest drama!"
At that moment, General La Fayette was suffering one of the most terrible assaults at the Hôtel de Ville that had hitherto been directed against him.
Now let me relate what had become of Charras and Lothon: I take some pride, as will be understood, in dwelling at greater length upon the men whose names were not to melt away with the smoke of the battlefield. We saw them leaving the Hôtel de Ville, bearers of an order from Mauguin and a proclamation from La Fayette. We forgot to tell how Lothon, whom we left on the 29th, stretched on the pavement at the Palais-Royal, happened to be at the Hôtel de Ville with Charras on the 30th. Lothon (alas! he is now dead!) was one of those rare men whose heart was as good as his head, whom powder intoxicates, who are excited by noise, and who probably love danger for its own sake more than for the honour it may bring. When Lothon had lain on the pavement for nearly an hour, he was picked up for dead; a bullet had pierced his forehead and seven others had riddled his hat, which had fallen beside him. The hat might have been taken as a target. Whilst he was being carried away to be buried along with others at the Louvre, he moved his head slightly; and this protest, feeble though it was, against being treated as was evidently intended by his bearers, proved incontestable. A soldier of the National Guard took him in, dressed his wounds, put him to bed, and then left him to go in search of news, never supposing that a man who had had his head broken by a bullet would dream of getting up to return to the firing, should there by chance be fighting still going on in any corner of Paris. However, that was Lothon's first idea. Scarcely had he recovered consciousness than he re-dressed himself, buckled on his sword again (that sword which he had seized from the properties of the théâtre de l'Odéon, as was evident from its cross handle and sheath, which had lost its leathern end), and, in spite of the outcries made by the wife of his host, he set off, stumbling like a drunken man. Charras found him that evening on returning home. Lothon could not recollect half what he had done, or anything at all of where he had been. But next day he felt well enough to rejoin Charras at the Hôtel de Ville. We have seen how they were deputed to go and fetch the 4th Regiment of artillery, in garrison at la Fère. For three days Charras had been penniless. When the insurrection had broken out he possessed fifteen francs and a bill of exchange for a hundred crowns, sent him by his father, a Paris banker; but since the 26th every bank had been closed, and if his bill had not been accepted by Laffitte, he would certainly not have obtained from the boldest bill-broker of Paris fifty francs out of his hundred crowns. Fifteen francs went on the 26th and 27th; on the 28th he got food where he could; on the 29th he dined at the Hôtel de Ville, with the rest of Paris; finally, on the morning of the 30th, Lionel de l'Aubespin, grandson of La Fayette, shared his purse with Charras. When he and Lothon started for la Fère, they found themselves the possessors of twenty francs! They could not afford to take post on that small amount; so the two heroes asked for a letter to the new director of posts, M. Chardel, who had been appointed, the day before, by Baude and Arago. By virtue of this letter, M. Chardel gave them an order to the various posting-masters along the route, putting horses at their service, and he himself gave them the two best cobs out of his stable. Charras and Lothon set off at as fast a gallop as the barricades would allow; two or three shots were fired at them because they were taken for officers of the Royal Guard attempting flight; but they reached Bourget, and drew up at the livery stables of the same posting-master who had given me horses and a carriage an hour previously.
The roads to Soissons and to la Fère both start together, and only divide at the Gonesse and at a spot called the Patte-d'oie; here the bifurcation on the right leads to Dammartin, Villers-Cotterets and Soissons, and the other to Senlis, Compiègne, Noyon and la Fère. The worthy patriot of whom the two young men inquired for saddle-horses perceived at once that they (Lothon especially) could not manage half that distance at full speed; he brought out a second trap, which he horsed, and he despatched them in it, wishing them God-speed. This wish, like that of "Good hunting!" no doubt brought them misfortune. Lothon was the first to get into the trap, and, to make room for Charras, he had to raise his sword. Night began to fall, and Charras, not noticing the sword, the point of which, as we have mentioned, was poking out at the end of its sheath, suddenly felt the icy cold of steel through his armpit, and tried to fling himself forward; but Lothon took him by the shoulders, thinking he had lost his footing, and tried to draw him in farther towards his side. Charras in vain shrieked, "You are killing me, I say!" but Lothon could hear nothing because of the bandage round his head, which stopped up his ear, and continued to draw him closer on the sword-point. Luckily, Charras was able to make a violent effort, tore himself out of his companion's hands and fell into the arms of the post-master, who, seeing that something extraordinary was happening inside the trap, seconded Charras's efforts by drawing him backwards. They went back into the house, and Charras took off his coat, waistcoat and shirt. The steel had penetrated an inch and a half or so under the armpit, and blood was flowing freely. They scraped some tinder and plugged the wound with a wet handkerchief, and, thanks to this apparatus, kept in its place by the wounded man's arm, the bleeding was stopped. Lothon was in a state of desperation, but, as his despair led to nothing, Charras encouraged him to give it up. As they re-entered the carriage, the post-master asked them—
"Have you any arms besides your swords?"
"Upon my word, we haven't!" they replied.
Then the post-master went to a cupboard and brought out a couple of pistols, which he loaded and pushed into the tails of Charras's coat. I should like to mention this excellent fellow's name, but who knows whether his patriotism of 1830 might not get him into trouble in 1853? The two wounded men fell asleep, ordering the postillions to put the horses between the shafts. Generally, postillions proved true patriots, and, although Charras could not give them large tips out of his twenty francs, they acquitted themselves conscientiously, by driving fast and changing horses quickly. Moreover, the post-master of Bourget had advised the two young men to send a second postillion on ahead of them; since M. Chardel's order proscribed no limits, it cost them no more to do this. All went well as far as Ribécourt. Here they woke Charras.
"What is the matter?" asked the sleeper, rubbing his eyes.
"The post-master will not give us any horses," said the head-postillion, who had been obliged to stop there because of this refusal.