"I was in the riots yesterday," was his confused reply.
"Then, do not fear to speak. Let us have details."
The lieutenant stepped out, though he colored up.
"My Lords of Bezenval and Lambesq know them better than I," he said.
"Continue, young sir; it pleases me to hear them from you. Under whose orders are these forty thousand men?"
"The superiors are the two gentlemen I named; under whom rule Prince Conde, Narbonne-Fritzlar and Salkenaym. The park of artillery on Montmartre could lay that district in ashes in six hours. At its signal to fire, Vincennes would answer. From four quarters as many corps of ten thousand troops could march in, and Paris would not hold out twenty-four hours."
"This is plain speaking at least, and a clear plan. What do you say to this, Prince Lambesq?"
"That the young gentleman is a perfect general!"
"At least, he is a soldier who does not despair," said the Queen, seeing the lieutenant turn pale with anger.
"Thank your Majesty," replied the latter. "I do not know what your Majesty will decide, but I beg her to count me with the other forty thousand men, including the captains, as ready to die for her."