I can see us in that filthy stable. De Valpic had just lain down alongside the wall. He was worn out, and wanted to sleep, but the fits of coughing which shook him made him reopen his eyes. He was shivering. We all had faces mottled by exhaustion and starvation. Lamalou suddenly got up with an oath: "Oh d----!" There was a crack in the roof, from which drops were falling. A stream of water was soon trickling down. Guillaumin came back. He had been to have a look at No. 1 platoon. There was schism in the Playoust "set." Hourcade and Descroix, it seemed, were still in possession of some "ruti" and a cheese. Descroix resigned himself to sharing it and favoured Playoust, but Hourcade turned a deaf ear. Little Humel would get nothing out of him--or the sergeant-major either. They neither of them demanded it, though they were both deadly white and worn out. Guillaumin winked: "If only we could find some way! I say, are you frightfully done up, to begin with?" "Fit as a fiddle, I don't think! Why?" "Look here." He confided in me that he had interviewed the farmer's wife. There was not a village anywhere near, the nearest was nine miles away, and had been crammed with troops for the last week. "Well?" "But there was another farm much nearer, a rich one, quite hidden in the woods. Suppose we went to see?" I raised some objections, for form's sake, but the adventure attracted me. A word to Bouillon. He at once wanted to join us. We told no one else; permission and success were equally uncertain. So we started off. It was getting dark. What a road it was! The mud was eighteen inches thick in places. Torrents of rain still, and the gloom was deepening. To begin with we forced ourselves to look where we were putting our feet, but we gave it up as a bad job. Squidge, splosh! We stoically followed in Guillaumin's tracks. We sank in half-way up to our knees, and came near to losing our balance or getting stuck. When we had walked for three quarters of an hour, Guillaumin began to get worried. Half a mile the woman had told him. We were lost? We thought of retracing our steps when he bumped against a gate in the dark. "Ow! As if my nose wasn't thick enough without that!" We began to make out the outlines of an obstruction. But everything seemed to be shut up. No light. We went to knock at the door. Not a sound. We knocked louder. "Done!" I said. "We'll soon see!" Guillaumin raised his voice: "Two petards of melinite to blow up your house!" A few seconds passed. Then a window squeaked. "Who's there?" "France." "What do you mean? France." "France, that's quite enough." "Wot d'you want?" "Someone to open the door to us." "We 'aven't got nothing." "That's a fine story!" "An wot abaht the Proosians?" "Will you let us in, confound you!" The man appeared to be frightened, and muttered: "'Arf a mo' till I gits into me breeches." He came and undid the bolts.... A bent old peasant, carrying a candle in his hand.