EXALTED WITH OUR SUCCESS, WE MARCH THROUGH FRANCE WITHOUT TOUCHING THE
GROUND--I BECOME FEMININE--WE ARE VOLUNTARY CONSCRIPTS.
At day-break I called O'Brien, who jumped up in a great hurry.
"Sure I've been asleep, Peter."
"Yes, you have," replied I, "and I thank Heaven that you have, for no
one could stand such fatigue as you have much longer; and if you fall
ill, what will become of me?" This was touching him on the right point.
"Well, Peter, since there's no harm come of it, there's no harm done.
I've had sleep enough for the next week, that's certain."
We returned to the wood; the snow had disappeared, and the rain ceased;
the sun shone out from between the clouds, and we felt warm.
"Don't pass so near that way," said O'Brien, "we shall see the poor
creatures, now that the sun is gone. Peter, we must shift our quarters
to-night, for I have been to every cabaret in the village, and I cannot
go there any more without suspicion, although I am a gendarme."
We remained there till the evening, and then set off, still returning
toward Givet. About an hour before daylight we arrived at a copse of
trees close to the road-side, and surrounded by a ditch, not above a
quarter of a mile from a village "It appears to me," said O'Brien, "that
this will do; I will now put you there, and then go boldly to the
village and see what I can get, for here we must stay at least a week."
We walked to the copse, and the ditch being rather too wide for me to
leap, O'Brien laid the four stilts together, so as to form a bridge,
over which I contrived to walk. Tossing to me all the bundles, and
desiring me to leave the stilts as a bridge for him on his return, he
set off to the village with his musket on his shoulder. He was away two
hours, when he returned with a large supply of provisions, the best we
had ever had.
"There," said he, "we have enough for a good week; and look here, Peter,
this is better than all." And he showed me two large horse-rugs.
"Excellent," replied I; "now we shall be comfortable."
"I paid honestly for all but these rugs," observed O'Brien; "I was
afraid to buy them, so I stole them. However, we'll leave them here for
those they belong to--it's only borrowing, after all."
We now prepared a very comfortable shelter with branches, which we wove
together, and laying the leaves in the sun to dry, soon obtained a soft
bed to put our horse-rug on, while we covered ourselves up with the
other. Our bridge of stilts we had removed, so that we felt ourselves
quite secure from surprise. At dark, to bed we went, and slept soundly;
I never felt more refreshed during our wanderings. At daylight O'Brien
got up.
"Now, Peter, a little practice before breakfast."
"What practice do you mean?"
"Mean why, on the stilts. I expect in a week that you'll be able to
dance a gavotte at least; for mind me, Peter, you travel out of France
upon these stilts, depend upon it."
O'Brien then took the stilts belonging to the man, giving me those of
the woman. We strapped them to our thighs, and by fixing our backs to a
tree, contrived to get upright upon them; but at the first attempt to
walk, O'Brien fell to the right, and I fell to the left. O'Brien fell
against a tree, but I fell on my nose, and made it bleed very much;
however, we laughed and got up again, and although we had several falls,
at last we made a better hand of them.
O'Brien then dressed me in the poor girl's clothes, and himself in the
man's; they fitted very well.
"Peter, you make a very pretty girl," said O'Brien.
"But, O'Brien," replied I, "as these petticoats are not very warm, I
mean to cut off my trousers up to my knees, and wear them underneath."
"That's all right," said O'Brien.
The next morning we made use of our stilts to cross the ditch, and
carrying them in our hands we boldly set off on the high road to
Malines. We met several people, gendarmes, and others, but with the
exception of some remarks upon my good looks we passed unnoticed.
Towards the evening we arrived at the village where we had slept in the
outhouse, and as soon as we entered it, we put on our stilts, and
commenced a march. When the crowd had gathered, we held out our caps,
and receiving nine or ten sous, we entered a cabaret. Many questions
were asked us, as to where we came from, and O'Brien answered, telling
lies innumerable. I played the modest girl, and O'Brien, who stated I
was his sister, appeared very careful and jealous of my attention. We
slept well, and the next morning continued our route to Malines. As we
entered the barriers we put on our stilts, and marched boldly on. The
guard at the gate stopped us, not from suspicion, but to amuse
themselves, and I was forced to submit to several kisses from their
garlic lips before we were allowed to enter the town. We again mounted
on our stilts, for the guard had forced us to dismount, or they could
not have kissed me, every now and then imitating a dance, until we
arrived at the _Grande Place_, where we stopped opposite the hotel, and
commenced a sort of waltz, which we had practised. The people in the
hotel looked out of the window to see our exhibition, and when we had
finished I went up to the windows with O'Brien's cap to collect money.
What was my surprise to perceive Colonel O'Brien looking full in my
face, and staring very hard at me? what was my greater astonishment at
seeing Celeste, who immediately recognised me, and ran back to the sofa
in the room, putting her hands up to her eyes, and crying out, "_C'est
lui, c'est lui_!" Fortunately O'Brien was close to me, or I should have
fallen, but he supported me. "Peter, ask the crowd for money, or you
are lost." I did so, and collecting some pence, then asked him what I
should do. "Go back to the window--you can then judge of what will
happen." I returned to the window:
Colonel O'Brien had disappeared, but Celeste was there, as if waiting
for me. I held out the cap to her, and she thrust her hand into it.
The cap sunk with the weight. I took out a purse, which I kept closed
in my hand, and put it into my bosom. Celeste then retired from the
window, and when she had gone to the back of the room kissed her hand to
me, and went out at the door. I remained stupefied for a moment, but
O'Brien roused me, and we quitted the _Grande Place_, taking up our
quarters at a little cabaret. On examining the purse, I found fifty
Napoleons in it: they must have been obtained from her father.
At the cabaret where we stopped, we were informed that the officer who
was at the hotel had been appointed to the command of the strong fort of
Bergen-op-Zoom, and was proceeding thither.
We walked out of the town early in the morning, after O'Brien had made
purchases of some of the clothes usually worn by the peasantry. When
within a few miles of St. Nicholas, we threw away our stilts and the
clothes which we had on, and dressed ourselves in those O'Brien had
purchased. O'Brien had not forgot to provide us with two large
brown-coloured blankets, which we strapped on to our shoulders, as the
soldiers do their coats.
It was bitter cold weather, and the snow had fallen heavily during the
whole day; but although nearly dusk, there was a bright moon ready for
us. We walked very fast, and soon observed persons ahead of us. "Let
us overtake them, we may obtain some information." As we came up with
them, one of them (they were both lads of seventeen to eighteen) said to
O'Brien, "I thought we were the last, but I was mistaken. How far is it
now to St. Nicholas?"
"How should I know?" replied O'Brien, "I am a stranger in these parts as
well as yourself."
"From what part of France do you come?" demanded the other, his teeth
chattering with the cold, for he was badly clothed, and with little
defence from the inclement weather.
"From Montpelier," replied O'Brien.
"And I from Toulouse. A sad change, comrades from olives and vines to
such a climate as this. Curse the conscription: I intended to have
taken a little wife next year."
O'Brien gave me a push, as if to say, "Here's something that will do,"
and then continued--"And curse the conscription I say too, for I had
just married, and now my wife is left to be annoyed by the attention of
the _fermier general_. But it can't be helped. _C'est pour la France
et pour la gloire_."
"We shall be too late to get a billet," replied the other, "and not a
sou have I in my pockets. I doubt if I get up with the main body till
they are at Flushing. By our route, they are at Axel to-day."
"If we arrive at St. Nicholas we shall do well," replied O'Brien; "but I
have a little money left, and I'll not see a comrade want a supper or a
bed who is going to serve his country. You can repay me when we meet at
Flushing."
"That I will, with thanks," replied the Frenchman, "and so will Jaques,
here, if you will trust him."
"With pleasure," replied O'Brien, who then entered into along
conversation, by which he drew out from the Frenchmen that a party of
conscripts had been ordered to Flushing, and that they had dropped
behind the main body. In about an hour we arrived at St. Nicholas, and
after some difficulty obtained entrance into a cabaret. "_Vive la
France_!" said O'Brien, going up to the fire, and throwing the snow off
his hat. In a short time we were seated to a good supper and very
tolerable wine, the hostess sitting down by us, and listening to the
true narratives of the real conscripts, and the false one of O'Brien.
After supper the conscript who first addressed us pulled out his printed
paper, with the route laid down, and observed that we were two days
behind the others. O'Brien read it over, and laid it on the table, at
the same time calling for more wine, having already pushed it round very
freely. We did not drink much ourselves, but plied them hard, and at
last the conscript commenced the whole history of his intended marriage
and his disappointment, tearing his hair, and crying now and then.
"Never mind," interrupted O'Brien, every two or three minutes; "_buvons
un autre coup pour la gloire_!" and thus he continued to make them both
drink, until they reeled away to bed, forgetting their printed paper,
which O'Brien had some time before slipped away from the table. We also
retired to our room, when O'Brien observed to me, "Peter, this
description is as much like me as I am to old Nick; but that's of no
consequence, as nobody goes willingly as a conscript, and therefore they
will never have a doubt but that it is all right. We must be off early
to-morrow, while these good people are in bed, and steal a long march
upon them. I consider that we are now safe as far as Flushing."