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 would 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 snow 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
towards 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.
French saucissons, seasoned with garlic, which I thought delightful;
four bottles of brandy, besides his flask; a piece of hung beef and six
loaves of bread, besides half a baked goose and part of a large pie.
"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; "but 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 one 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. That evening we did nothing but carouse--the
goose, the pie, the saucissons as big as my arm, were alternately
attacked, and we went to the ditch to drink water, and then ate again.
This was quite happiness to what we had suffered, especially with the
prospect of a good bed. 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. We then had some difficulty in
getting down again, but we found out how, by again resorting to a tree.
After breakfast we strapped them on again, and practised, and so we
continued to do for the whole day, when we again attacked our
provisions, and fell asleep under our horse-rug. This continued for five
days, by which time, being constantly on the stilts, we became very
expert; and although I could not dance a gavotte--for I did not know
what that was--I could hop about with them with the greatest ease.
"One day's more practice," said O'Brien, "for our provisions will last
one day more, and then we start; but this time we must rehearse in
costume."
O'Brien then dressed me in the poor girl's clothes, and himself in the
man's; they fitted very well, and the last day we practised as man and
woman.
"Peter, you make a very pretty girl," said O'Brien. "Now, don't you
allow the men to take liberties."
"Never fear," replied I. "But, O'Brien, as these petticoats are not very
warm, I mean to cut off my trowsers up to my knees, and wear them
underneath."
"That's all right," said O'Brien, "for you may have a tumble, and then
they may find out that you're not a lady."
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, gens-d'armes 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 any attention. We slept
well, and the next morning continued our route to Malines. We very often
put on our stilts for practice on the road, which detained us very much,
and it was not until the eighth day, without any variety or any
interruption, that we arrived at 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 sank
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: these
must have been, obtained from her father. I cried over them with
delight. O'Brien was also much affected at the kindness of the colonel.
"He's a real O'Brien, every inch of him," said he: "even this cursed
country can't spoil the breed."
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 must not chance to meet him again, if possible," said O'Brien; "it
would be treading too close upon the heels of his duty. Neither will it
do to appear on stilts among the dikes; so, Peter, we'll just jump on
clear of this town and then we'll trust to our wits."
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 forgotten to provide us with two large
brown-coloured blankets, which we strapped on to our shoulders, as the
soldiers do their coats.
"But what are we to pass for now, O'Brien?"
"Peter, I will settle that point before night. My wits are working, but
I like to trust to chance for a stray idea or so; we must walk fast, or
we shall be smothered with the snow."
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, comrade, 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 général_.
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 pocket. 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 Jacques
here, if you will trust him."
"With pleasure," replied O'Brien, who then entered into a long
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. O'Brien passed himself off as a conscript
belonging to the party, and me as his brother, who had resolved to join
the army as a drummer, rather than part with him. 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."