The French gentleman, while showing his premises, held a rake in his hand, and was dressed in a green velvet forage cap, a frieze coat made like a dressing gown, coarse trowsers, and wooden shoes; but in the evening he was well attired; in fact quite metamorphosed. The linen, napkins and plate were in plenty, but we were much surprised at the common clasp knives at table; otherwise, every thing (such as massive plate and old fashioned china) was good, and well laid out. The stairs were carpeted and polished, and the rooms were without grates, the wood being burnt on hobs. The _filles de chambre_ left their wooden clogs at the bottom of the stairs, walking about the rooms in their stocking'd feet, and, although coarsely dressed, and of rough exterior, they executed all the necessary offices with a respectful attention and extreme good nature, and, when offered some silver in the morning, they refused it, as if to say, "_Ciel!_ how can we take the money of _les étrangers, et les jeunes officiers_?" On the sixth day we entered a town within a short distance of Toulouse. The enemy lined the opposite bank of a small rapid river, about four hundred yards from the town; a howitzer was planted over the bridge, and a group of French officers were assembled in conversation. Another officer and myself by degrees sauntered past our sentinels, who were not pushed beyond the houses of the town. When within a hundred yards of them, we made the usual salute, but, to our astonishment, it was not returned, and the whole of the group left the spot, with the exception of one officer, who leaned on the breech of the gun, as much as to intimate that we were too far in their country to expect confabs and that the time was come to stand to their cannon. We regretted having placed ourselves so completely in their power: to go back was impossible with any security, if their intentions were of a hostile nature. Trusting however to the well-known courtesy of _les militaires Français_, we left the road, and walked up to the bank of the river, within fifteen yards of a French sentinel, who, with his musket carelessly thrown across his body, eyed us steadily, as if to examine whether our approach should be received in a hostile, or amicable manner. Appearances certainly looked as if we had come expressly to reconnoitre the nature of the ground, and as we slowly retired, we momentarily expected a round of grape shot, and were not a little relieved to find ourselves once more behind the houses; for there was not a bush or any thing to screen us from their observation the whole of the way. CHAPTER VIII.