"There is certainly only about two hundred pounds of powder in the artillery magazine, but in the shed opposite there are three thousand pounds belonging to the town."
"Three thousand pounds of powder there"; and he pointed to the shed.
"Then let us open it and take the powder."
"M. Jousselin, the storehouse-keeper has it."
"Monsieur, I can at present say neither yes nor no to your request: if I find more powder, I will leave you the two hundred pounds; if I do not find any, I shall take it from you. Now do not let us lose any more time, but each take our share. My dear Monsieur Moreau, you go and find a waggon and horses among the carters in the town; they shall be paid what is right, on condition they are here within an hour. As soon as the powder is in the cart we will start off.... Is that clear?"
And M. Moreau set off at the swiftest rate of speed possible.
"Bard, my friend, you can see that the situation has grown more complicated, so take up your position close to the cannon, re-light your cigarette and keep away from the green plums."
"Make your mind easy on that score! I hardly ate three and they set my teeth horribly on edge! ... I would not bite a fourth, no, not even for M. Jousselin and all his powder!"
"You, Hutin, go to M. Missa, to find out his intentions, and if he has not done anything get from him General La Fayette's proclamation; it should be useful to us in dealing with the civil authorities, who may possibly decline to believe in the validity of General Gérard's orders."
"You, Monsieur Quinette, have the goodness to take me to M. Jousselin."
"Bah! what matter? If we work in harmony, things will come out all right! In half or three-quarters of an hour at longest we shall all be back here again!"
Bard resumed his post, Hutin left to fulfil his commission and M. Quinette and I to fulfil ours. We reached M. Jousselin's door.
"Here we are," M. Quinette said, "but you will understand my feelings: I belong to the town and have to stop in it after you have gone, so I would rather you went alone to see M. Jousselin."
With that, I entered M. Jousselin's house. I must confess that, at the moment, neither my looks nor my dress were calculated to inspire confidence in the minds of others. I had lost my straw hat somewhere or other, my face was sunburnt and streaming with perspiration; my voice, at one moment, would sound loud like a trumpet, at the next, it was shrill almost to imperceptibility; my jacket, bulging with the pistols, was gradually losing what few buttons had adorned it and, finally, my gaiters and shoes were still soiled with blood which the dust of the road had not effaced. It was not, therefore, surprising that, when M. Jousselin saw me thus equipped and with my double-barrelled gun on my shoulder, he recoiled in his armchair as far as he could get.