In ten minutes he returned.  “All right,” he said; “there have been no Prussians here for three days.  It is a sinister place, is this village.  I have been talking to a Sister of Mercy, who is caring for four or five wounded men in an abandoned convent.”

I ordered them to ride on, and we entered the principal street.  On the right and left we could vaguely see roofless walls, which were hardly visible in the profound darkness.  Here and there a light was burning in a room; some family had remained to keep its house standing as well as they were able; a family of brave or of poor people.  The rain began to fall, a fine, icy cold rain, which froze as it fell on our cloaks.  The horses stumbled against stones, against beams, against furniture.  Marchas guided us, going before us on foot, and leading his horse by the bridle.

“Where are you taking us to?” I asked him.  And he replied:  “I have a place for us to lodge in, and a rare good one.”  And we presently stopped before a small house, evidently belonging to some proprietor of the middle class.  It stood on the street, was quite inclosed, and had a garden in the rear.

Marchas forced open the lock by means of a big stone which he picked up near the garden gate; then he mounted the steps, smashed in the front door with his feet and shoulders, lit a bit of wax candle, which he was never without, and went before us into the comfortable apartments of some rich private individual, guiding us with admirable assurance, as if he lived in this house which he now saw for the first time.

Two troopers remained outside to take care of our horses, and Marchas said to stout Ponderel, who followed him:  “The stables must be on the left; I saw that as we came in; go and put the animals up there, for we do not need them”; and then, turning to me, he said:  “Give your orders, confound it all!”

This fellow always astonished me, and I replied with a laugh:  “I will post my sentinels at the country approaches and will return to you here.”

“How many men are you going to take?”

“Five.  The others will relieve them at five o’clock in the evening.”

“Very well.  Leave me four to look after provisions, to do the cooking and to set the table.  I will go and find out where the wine is hidden.”

I went off, to reconnoitre the deserted streets until they ended in the open country, so as to post my sentries there.

Half an hour later I was back, and found Marchas lounging in a great easy-chair, the covering of which he had taken off, from love of luxury, as he said.  He was warming his feet at the fire and smoking an excellent cigar, whose perfume filled the room.  He was alone, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his head sunk between his shoulders, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright, and looking delighted.

I heard the noise of plates and dishes in the next room, and Marchas said to me, smiling in a con tented manner:  “This is famous; I found the champagne under the flight of steps outside, the brandy—­fifty bottles of the very finest in the kitchen garden under a pear tree, which did not seem to me to be quite straight when I looked at it by the light of my lantern.  As for solids, we have two fowls, a goose, a duck, and three pigeons.  They are being cooked at this moment.  It is a delightful district.”