The three future Marshals of France had scarcely hurried from the room before other officers were dashing after them to secure supplies of food and to establish strong points round the perimeter of the area that Buonaparte had decided to hold.
The command of the fifteen hundred sans-culottes had been given to a brave old General named Berruyer. To him Buonaparte gave the task of having barricades thrown up in the streets to the north of the Rue St Honore; then he turned to the senior of them all, General Carteaux, who was looking far from happy at seeing himself supplanted by a junior who till then had been reckoned of little importance, and said tactfully:
"For you, mon pere, I have reserved the place of the greatest danger and the greatest glory. It is certain that the insurgents will endeavour to reach the Tuileries by the shortest route, across the Pont Neuf. Take four hundred men and hold the bridge for us, if need be to the death."
The older man's expression changed instantly. Raising his hand in salute, he cried: "Rely upon me! They shall not pass!" And, snatching up his hat be ran from the room.
It was now empty except for Barras, Roger, Buonaparte and his two young A.D.C.'s, Junot and Muiron. Barras waved a hand towards Roger and said:
"Do you know Citizen Breuc? He was with me on the night of 9th Thermidor, but was later made a prisoner by the English, and has only tonight got back to Paris after making his escape."
Buonaparte's sudden smile flashed out and he shook hands warmly with Roger. "Of course. I thought I knew your face, but could not for the moment place you, owing to the whiskers and moustache that you have grown. You were the Citizen Representant who led the charge against the Spanish redoubt at Toulon. Its early capture greatly facilitated our assault on Fort Mulgrave later that night; so yours was a valuable as well as gallant act"
Roger bowed. "I thank you, Citizen General. I see that since last we met your rapid promotion has continued. Allow me to congratulate you."
Making a wry face, Buonaparte replied: "All is not gold that glisters. I was given my present rank shortly after Toulon, and as Commander of the Artillery in General Massena's campaign into Italy proved that I knew my business; but for all the use it has been to me these past thirteen months I might as well have remained a captain."
"You surprise me. I should have thought that many employments could be found for a man of your obvious abilities."
"They could have been; but after Thermidor my friendship with the younger Robespierre was held against me. On my return from a diplomatic mission to the Republic of Genoa my countryman, the deputy Salicetti, from having been my patron turned against me, and as one means of whitewashing himself had me arrested."
"You were not confined for long," Barras put in with a shrug. "And whereas, after 1st PrairiaL Salicetti was forced to fly the country, you are still here; so it is foolish to continue to chew upon this year-old grievance."
"Ah, but I was deprived of my command, and have been given no other since," the young Corsican retorted bitterly. "For months, so that they might the more easily spy upon my comings and goings, they kept me here at a desk in the Topographical Office. What sort of work is that, for a soldier?"
"You were offered a command in La Vendee."
"Yes, as a means of testing my patriotism! But I prefer to kill Austrians, Sardinians and Englishmen to Frenchmen, whatever their political convictions. In any case, at the time, I was too ill to accept it"
"You have had the appearance of being ill ever since I first met you," Barras remarked shrewdly; "so it is not to be wondered at that certain people suspected the validity of your excuse."
"Excuse or no excuse, after my services at Toulon, Ventimiglia, Oneglia and at the Col di Tenda, they have treated me shamefully. Because of my refusal to go to Brittany I was struck off the list of Generals. I have no post, no pay, and am allowed a table in this office only on sufferance, because I have a gift for writing despatches, which others find a tiresome business."
"No matter," Barras said with a laugh. "Do you but handle this present crisis aright, and the Convention will let bygones be bygones. In a few hours die dawn of 13th Vendemiaire will break and the day may even prove the making of your fortune."
Those few hours seemed to go very swiftly, as staff officers and
orderlies hurried in and out bringing Buonaparte confirmation that his orders had been executed, or asking for further instructions where hitches had occurred. The Poisonniere Section stopped the consignment of arms that had been despatched to the 'patriots' of Quinze-Vingts, and that of Mont Blanc seized a convoy of provisions destined for the Tuileries; but otherwise everything went smoothly.
Roger had been in Paris during many of the major outbreaks of the Revolution, so knew well the pattern that they followed. First, for a few days, there were deputations to the Chamber, while street-corner agitators harangued anyone who would listen to them. Then processions paraded the streets demanding bread, and declaring that the Revolution had been betrayed. Finally several ill-co-ordinated mobs clashed with the equally ill-directed forces of a hesitant and jittery Authority. As brains and resolution played little part in the eventual clashes the side with the greater numbers emerged victorious. Therefore, according to precedent, the Convention was about to be overthrown.
But, as a witness of the night's skilful, systematic planning and its results, long before dawn Roger made up his mind that precedent could no longer be taken as a guide for this occasion. That unknown factor' of which Fouché had made passing mention had been produced by Barras in this seedy-looking little Corsican soldier who for the past year had remained unemployed and discredited.
By six o'clock his chances of succeeding in suppressing the insurrection were enormously strengthened. Murat, drenched to the skin and leaving pools of water behind him with every footstep, came stamping into the room. His thick lips parting in a grin, he told them that he had reached Les Sablons simultaneously with a battalion of National Guards from the Section Lepelletier, also sent to fetch the cannon. In the open plain the infantry had not dared to face a charge by his dragoons; so, after furious but useless protests, they had given way to him, and he now had forty cannon, with gunners and a good supply of ammunition, drawn up in the gardens of the Tuileries.
Buonaparte put on a shabby grey overcoat, stuck a round crowned black hat, which had an upturned brim in front, on the extreme back of his head, and declared his intention of making a round of the troops.
Barras, Roger was secretly amused to see, though happy to make use of the Corsican's abilities, had no intention of letting him get the lion's share of the credit for the arrangements he had made. Clapping his three-plumed hat on his hair that, to conceal its premature greyness, he had, m contemptuous defiance of the sans-culottes, kept powdered all through the Revolution, he said:
"As Commander-in-Chief, I will inspect our forces. Be good enough, Citizen Brigadier and the rest of you, to attend me."
During the next two hours, in the teeming rain, they rode from post to post. At each Barras spoke a few words of encouragement to the soldiers; and, depressed as they were from having stood about all night in the cold and wet, his resolute mode of address never failed to raise a cheer for the Convention.