CHAPTER XXIII.
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.