The place was full of bullocks and sheep, gathered there, no
doubt, to be out of the clutches of marauders.

A ladder led to a loft, and up this I climbed and concealed
myself very snugly among some bales of hay upon the top. This
loft had a small open window, and I was able to look down upon
the front of the inn and also upon the road. There I crouched
and waited to see what would happen.

It was soon evident that I had not been mistaken when I had
thought that this might be the quarters of some person of
importance. Shortly after daybreak an English light dragoon
arrived with a despatch, and from then onward the place was in a
turmoil, officers continually riding up and away. Always the
same name was upon their lips: "Sir Stapleton--Sir Stapleton."

It was hard for me to lie there with a dry moustache and watch
the great flagons which were brought out by the landlord to these
English officers. But it amused me to look at their
fresh-coloured, clean-shaven, careless faces, and to wonder what
they would think if they knew that so celebrated a person was
lying so near to them. And then, as I lay and watched, I saw a
sight which filled me with surprise.

It is incredible the insolence of these English! What do you
suppose Milord Wellington had done when he found that Massena had
blockaded him and that he could not move his army? I might give
you many guesses. You might say that he had raged, that he had
despaired, that he had brought his troops together and spoken to
them about glory and the fatherland before leading them to one