"`My husband sold the horse the next day to one of our generals, who forgot to pay for it after my husband was killed. As for the scymitar and pistols, they were stolen from me that night: but what can you expect?--our army is brave, but a little demoralised. The next day we arrived before Constantine, and we had to defile before the enemy's guns. At one portion of the road, men and horses were tumbled over by their fire; the _caisson_ that I was riding upon was upset by a ball, and thrown down the ravine, dragging the horses after it. I lay among the horses' legs--they kicking furiously; it was a miracle that my life was preserved: as it was--' "`You broke your nose,' interrupted I. "`No, sir, indeed I did not. I only received a kick on the arm, which obliged me to carry it in a sling for some days. The weather became very bad; we had few tents, and they were not able to resist the storms of rain and wind. We wrapped ourselves up how we could, and sat in deep pools of water, and the Arabs attacked us before we could open the fire of our batteries; we were in such a pickle that, had the bad weather lasted, we must have retreated; and happy would those have been who could have once more found themselves safe in the camp of Mzez Ammar. I don't think that I ever suffered so much as I did at that time--the weather had even overcome the natural gallantry of our nation; and so far from receiving any attention, the general remark to me was, "What the devil do _you_ do here?" This to be said to a pretty woman!