"Alas!" said the count; "you make me regret now what I cared little for a moment ago." Petit-Pierre laughed; and then, for the purpose of keeping up his companion's heart, he cried out gayly:-- "Bonneville, call the usher and let him notify the chamberlain on duty to order the stewards to bring my lunch-basket. I would like one of those snipe I hear whistling about us." "Her Royal Highness is served," said the count, kneeling on one knee, and offering on the top of his hat an object which Petit-Pierre seized eagerly. "Bread!" he cried. "Black bread," said Bonneville. "Oh, no matter! I can't see the color at night." "Dry bread! doubly dry!" "But it is bread, at any rate." And Petit-Pierre set his handsome teeth into the crust, which had been drying in the count's pocket for the last two days. "And when I think," said Petit-Pierre, "that General Dermoncourt is probably at this moment eating my supper at Souday, isn't it aggravating?" Then, suddenly, "Oh! forgive me, my dear guide," he went on, "but my stomach got the better of my heart; I forgot to offer you half my supper." "Thanks," replied Bonneville; "but my appetite isn't strong enough yet to munch stones. In return for your gracious offer, I'll show you how to make your poor supper less husky." Bonneville took the bread, broke it, not without difficulty, into little bits, soaked it in a brook that was flowing quite near them, called Petit-Pierre, sat down himself on one side the brook, while Petit-Pierre sat on the other, and taking out one by one the softened crusts, presented them to his famished companion. "Upon my honor!" said the latter, when he came to the last crumb, "I haven't eaten such a good supper for twenty years. Bonneville, I appoint you steward of my household." "Meantime," said the count, "I am your guide. Come, luxury enough; we must continue our way." "I'm ready," said Petit-Pierre, springing gayly to his feet. Again they started through the woods, and half an hour's walking brought them to a river which they were forced to cross. Bonneville tried his usual method; but at the first step, the water came to his waist, at the second to his shoulders. Feeling himself dragged by the current he caught at the branch of a tree and returned to the bank. It was necessary to find a way to cross. At a distance of about three hundred yards Bonneville thought he had found one; but it was nothing more than the trunk of a tree lately blown down by the wind, and still bearing all its branches. "Do you think you can walk over that?" he asked Petit-Pierre. "If you can, I can," replied the latter. "Hold on to the branches, and don't have any conceit about your powers; don't raise one foot till you are quite sure the other is firm," said Bonneville, climbing first on to the trunk of the tree. "I'm to follow, I suppose?" "Wait till I can give you a hand."