And again Charras set off. Meanwhile, we had arrived and were dispersing ourselves over Versailles. I, for my part, ran to the barracks of the Guards; I had an intimate friend there, in Grammont's company, a man of irreproachable bravery and, what I appreciated still more, he was marvellously clever. He was called d'Arpentigny. Young though he was, he had been a soldier under the Empire, and he wrote one of the most amazing books imaginable upon his captivity in Russia.
There was not a single Guard at the palace; everyone had followed the king to Rambouillet; they accompanied him as far as Cherbourg, as is known.
After a halt of half an hour, the order was given to resume our march. Just at starting, General Pajol learnt that there were two regiments stationed in Versailles. Would it be wise of him to leave them behind? Three parlementaires were sent and the two regiments gave themselves up without resistance; their arms were distributed among the men of the expedition and my seventeen soldiers got hold of three rifles. On arrival at Saint-Cyr, Degousée proposed seizing the artillery belonging to the École; he asked for volunteers and we offered ourselves, two hundred of us setting out to seize eight pieces of cannon. We harnessed ourselves to them to drag them out as far as the road, and messengers, sent out in all directions, brought back horses and traces.
The Expeditionary Army of the West now had artillery, but it lacked cartridges and bullets. At this moment, we were joined by Georges La Fayette and, as the command of the artillery was vacant, Pajol gave it to him. I never heard whether they succeeded in obtaining bullets and cartridges. When the Expeditionary Army reached the top of the hill of Saint-Cyr, they began to find the high road strewn with sabres, rifles, cartridge boxes and soldiers' caps. So demoralised was the retreat that the men had actually flung away their arms all along the route. Five more of my men thus found arms for themselves, thanks to these spars of the royal wreckage. We reached Cognières at about seven in the evening, harassed with fatigue and dying with hunger. We had, indeed, managed to pick up some scraps of bread and a few glasses of wine, at Versailles; but, as my scene-shifter said, there was only enough to stop a hollow tooth with. By the time we reached Cognières, there were a terrible number of hollow teeth: the horses had found their ten thousand rations of hay and oats, but the men had found nothing at all to eat. Yet Jacqueminot had scrupulously fulfilled his mission: they had promised him that, as soon as the new prefect arrived (and he was expected any moment), the bread should be hurried up. Every man among us set to work like the lion of Scripture, seeking whom he might devour. I had pitched our camp round a great stack of straw that stood on the right of the road and our flag was planted on the top of the stack by one of the scene-shifters, to serve as a guide-post. I had been singularly unlucky in my search, until, happily, I spied out the curé's house. I went inside and laid my wants and those of my troop before the worthy man. He gave me a fine loaf of bread, which must have weighed three or four pounds, and, as he had no bottles in the house, he filled with wine a bottle intended to hold milk. Whilst I was on my foraging expedition, two things were being attended to elsewhere: thirty of the peasants of Cognières, armed with swords and rifles picked up on the road, were placed as an advance-post, a quarter of a league from the village; and, with the three or four thousand fiacres, fifteen to eighteen hundred cabriolets, tilburys and waggons, etc., they built up a big line of barricades across the road stretching across the plain to left and right, covering the whole of the front of the camp and bending back on two sides upon the flanks. On my way, I had been buttonholed by a gentleman in black coat and trousers with a white waistcoat—the whole forming a pearl-grey picture. He had met the procession, was carried away by the whirlpool, had climbed up the back of a fiacre and been thus transported. He had no weapons of any sort, not even a penknife. I could see he was a very green hand at this sort of business. He had not had a bite to eat since the previous day and was clamouring for some sort of food. By trade, he was a broker and his name was Detours. I pointed our flag out to him and encouraged him to continue his hitherto unfruitful hunt a little longer, and then to join us at our stack, whether his hands were full or empty.
After a quarter of an hour's time, I saw him coming along with a piece of bread and half a leg of mutton. He had met Charras, who had taken pity on him and had put General Pajol's canteen at his disposal. He apologised for not bringing more. My men had, however, gone abroad among the neighbouring farms and had annexed a few fowls and eggs. We put all the provender together and supped as well as possible. But only we four or five hundred, perhaps, who had arrived first, got supper: the groans of hunger of those who came after us were audible all around. When the repast was done, I dug out a sort of vault under the stack, into which Delanoue and I got with sybaritic appreciation. The rest of our men strewed straw on the ground and camped in the open air. As for M. Detours, I do not know whether he lives in Paris or in the provinces, whether he be dead or alive, Bonapartist or Republican, for I have never seen him again. It is by a miracle that I happen to have remembered his name.
[CHAPTER IV]
Boyer the Cruel—The ten thousand rations of bread—General Exelmans and Charras—The concierge at the prefecture of Versailles—M. Aubernon—Colonel Poque—Interview of Charles X. with MM. de Schonen, Odilon Barrot and Marshal Maison—The Royal Family leave Rambouillet—Panic—The crown jewels—Return to Paris