get a much worse telling-off from my father. I did not have the
courage to face this and decided to evade it, if that were possible.
At last we were let out of the gates of the citadel. The night was
dark, and Spire went in front with a lantern. As we walked through
the narrow twisting streets, the good fellow, delighted to be
bringing me back, recounted all the comforts which would await me at
headquarters. "But," he said, "you must expect a severe ticking-off
from your father." This last remark put an end to my doubts, and in
order to let my father's anger cool off, I decided it would be better
not to appear before him for a few days and that I would return to my
bivouac at Madona. I could easily have slipped away without playing
any trick on poor Spire; but fearing that he might be able to pursue
me by the light of his lantern, I gave it a kick which sent it flying
ten paces from him, and ran off while the good man, groping for his
lantern, shouted, "Ah...! You little blighter! I shall tell your
father!"

After wandering for some time in the deserted streets, I found at
last the road to Madona, and made my way to the regimental camp. All
the Hussars thought I was in prison. As soon as one of them
recognised me by the light of the fires, I was surrounded and
questioned. There was much laughter when I described how I had got
away from Spire. The members of the clique were so satisfied with my
behaviour that they decided unanimously to admit me into their
society, which was preparing an expedition to go, that very night, to
the gates of Dego and steal a herd of cattle which belonged to the
Austrian army. The French Generals and even the corps commanders
were obliged to ignore these raids, which, in the absence of regular
rations, the soldiers carried out beyond the advance posts in order
to obtain food. In each regiment the boldest soldiers had formed