CHAPTER XX.
O'Brien fights a duel with a French officer, and proves that the great art of fencing is knowing nothing about it--We arrive at our new quarters, which we find very secure.
At night we arrived at a small town, the name of which I forget.

Here we were all put into an old church for the night, and a very bad night we passed.

They did not even give us a little straw to lie down upon: the roof of the church had partly fallen in, and the moon shone through very brightly.

This was some comfort; for to have been shut up in the dark, seventy-five in number, would have been very miserable.

We were afraid to lie down anywhere, as, like all ruined buildings in France, the ground was covered with filth, and the smell was shocking.