beg of you to go, and I promise you that after the war I will relate the
whole affair in verse in the Revue de Deux Mondes. You owe this much to
your men, for you have made them march enough during the last month."

I got up at last and asked: "Where is the priest's house?" "Take the
second turning at the end of the street, you will see an avenue, and at
the end of the avenue you will find the church. The parsonage is beside
it." As I went out, he called out: "Tell him the bill of fare, to make
him hungry!"

I discovered the ecclesiastic's little house without any difficulty; it
was by the side of a large, ugly brick church. I knocked at the door with
my fist, as there was neither bell nor knocker, and a loud voice from
inside asked: "Who is there?" To which I replied: "A quartermaster of
hussars."

I heard the noise of bolts and of a key being turned, and found myself
face to face with a tall priest with a large stomach, the chest of a
prizefighter, formidable hands projecting from turned-up sleeves, a red
face, and the look of a kind man. I gave him a military salute and said:
"Good-day, Monsieur le Cure."

He had feared a surprise, some marauders' ambush, and he smiled as he
replied: "Good-day, my friend; come in." I followed him into a small room
with a red tiled floor, in which a small fire was burning, very different
to Marchas' furnace, and he gave me a chair and said: "What can I do for
you?" "Monsieur, allow me first of all to introduce myself"; and I gave
him my card, which he took and read half aloud: "Le Comte de Garens."

I continued: "There are eleven of us here, Monsieur l'Abbe, five on