"But you had a suit of clothes which has been stolen from you by the Sergeant-major Vaillant?" "No," I said, "I have had no suit of clothes stolen from me. I lent Sergeant-major Vaillant a suit of clothes, if that is what you are driving at." "What!" exclaimed the _gendarme_, evidently much astonished, "how can you say that Sergeant-major Vaillant did not steal a suit of clothes from you when your Captain says he did!" "I don't know what the Captain says," I replied, "and what he says does not concern me. I am here on my oath, I have sworn to tell the truth, and all you have to do is to take down my words." "What am I to do?" said the old Corporal, turning helplessly to his subordinate. "This is a most serious matter. How on earth can I write down that a Dragoon swears that he has had no clothes stolen when his Captain says they have been stolen! That is what discipline has come to nowadays," he went on. "When I was in the Guards, if my Captain had said to me, 'Bouchard, some one has stolen your clothes,' I should have said, 'Yes, sir!' But now, if the Colonel himself were to say to a trooper, 'You're a nigger,' the fellow would reply that he was a white man. And these are the men who are going to lick the Prussians! It breaks my old heart to see such goings on." "Corporal," I insisted, "whether you like it or not you will have to write down what I say. If you won't I shall decline to sign the declaration, and shall state in writing the reason for my refusal." "I think you had better take down what he says," suggested the _gendarme_, and the Corporal, with a sigh, proceeded to write out my deposition. I gave a full account of all I knew about the matter, pointing out that my Sergeant-major had, before leaving, returned a large sum of money I had entrusted to him; finally, having read my deposition through carefully, I signed it. When the old _gendarme_ learned incidentally that I had been in prison, he turned to his subordinate and cried exultingly, "Of course he has! Of course! I knew all along he was a bad un!" And after I had signed the declaration he could not refrain from a farewell shot. "Now, youngster," he said impressively, "mark my words, for I don't make a mistake often--you'll come to a bad end. It's always the case with fellows who don't respect their betters. You begin with the regimental prison; then, when your time is up, you soon get a month or two, then a year, and it's not long before you are sent to La Nouvelle,[43] and, if you don't get a 'lifer,' it's ten to one 'The Widow'[44] ends your days." With these encouraging words the _gendarme_ dismissed me, and the Sergeant took me back to the hospital, chaffing me unmercifully all the way.