It was after three o'clock in the afternoon; I had had nothing since the previous night, except the cup of chocolate from my friend Hiraux: I was literally dropping from exhaustion. The speeches bade fair to be long, and, naturally, tedious; so I proposed to two or three of the artillerymen to come and dine at the _Gros Marronniers,_ and they accepted.
"Will anything happen?" I asked Bastide before I went off.
"I think not," he said, looking round him, "and yet, do not be deceived, the 29 July is in the air."
"In any case, I shall not go far away," I said, and I went.
"Are you going away?" Étienne Arago said to me.
"How can I, I have neither rifle nor cartridges?"
"You must do as I have done, put pistols in your pockets."
He showed me the butt-end of a pistol sticking out of his pocket.
"_Diable!_" I exclaimed, "if I thought anything would happen I would dispense with dinner!"
"Oh! don't be anxious, if there is anything it will last long enough for you to come back before dessert."
That was probable, so we went off without scruples. I was so weak that I was obliged to lean on the arm of my two companions, and I very nearly fainted before entering the restaurant. They made me drink iced water and I revived. Everything was topsy-turvy, and we had great difficulty in getting waited on. We were engrossed in a huge fish-pie, the main dish always served in a dinner _à la Râpée,_ when we heard a volley of firing, but so peculiar in sound that we never doubted but that it was the discharge over the hearse in honour of the illustrious dead.
"To the memory of General Lamarque!" I said, raising my glass.
My two companions pledged me. Then we heard four or five single shots.
"Oh! oh!" I exclaimed, "that is another tale altogether! Those shots sound like sport."
I ran on to the quay, where I climbed up on a railing. Nothing could be made out except that there was a great commotion about the pont d'Austerlitz.
"Pay quick and come and see what that music is," I said to my two companions.
We flung 10 francs on the table; but, as the firing increased, we did not ask for our change, we started running towards the barrier. The sound of firing had given me back my strength. When we reached the barrier, we found it guarded by men in blouses who, on perceiving us, shouted, "_Vivent les artilleurs!_" We ran up to them.