me to go and have a good wash and to return to his room. I went to the pump, and after indulging in a good scrubbing returned to de Lanoy's. [Illustration: A FATIGUE PARTY OF DRAGOONS] "What a filthy life this is!" I exclaimed, when I entered his quarters. "Have you only just found that out?" he answered. "I have been serving two years and a half, and although I have been two years a non-commissioned officer, I am thoroughly disgusted with it. I heard the Corporal ordering you to follow him, and I might have told him to select another trooper for fatigue duty, but, you see, I have to be careful; if I showed you too much favour I couldn't help you as I may be able to under more serious circumstances. Now," he went on, "listen to my advice. Whenever a Corporal orders you for fatigue duty just call him aside and quietly tip him a couple of francs to drink your health with, asking him at the same time to allow you to find another man to do the work in your stead. You will never fail to find a trooper glad to take the job for a franc." I followed his advice in the future, and it was only when no other trooper was handy that I ever did fatigue duty again. That evening, at 7.45 I stood before the guard-room among the troopers punished with _Salle de Police_. The Sergeant of the Guard did not trouble to search us, but immediately marched us off to the lock-up. We were but six that evening; as usual, when the Sergeant had retired Titi lit his candle. After singing a few songs all the fellows dropped to sleep with the exception of Titi and myself. "What a life!" said Titi to me. "I much prefer to be in quod--some of them ain't bad at all." "What! Have you been in gaol?" I asked in astonishment. "Have I been to gaol! Heaps of times, old chappy!" He was clearly not in the least ashamed to own it, but felt quite proud, and enjoyed my astonishment. "What did you do before you joined the regiment?" I queried, in order to change the subject. "_J'faisais la muche_," he replied. I did not understand what this meant, not being yet versed in low slang; and I imagined that it meant that--like many of the Parisians in our regiment--he had been a _vidangeur_ (scavenger). I inquired what pay he used to draw. "Oh," he said, "it depended; my last _marmite elle était rien épatante, mon vieux, elle faisait ses cinq roues de derrière tous les soirs_!" He went on telling me a lot of stories on the subject, which cannot, unfortunately, be reproduced here, but which gave me a striking insight into the life of a French _maquereau_ (a man who lives on unfortunates). Seeing that he had absolutely no sense of shame, I ventured to ask him about his convictions. He became quite keen on the subject.