all the same, I wish we had started an hour earlier."

Honestly I felt rather inclined to laugh at Jacques' vague fears, for
the stranger's pleasant speech and affable manner had impressed me, and
I could not think of him in any other light than that of a courteous and
gallant gentleman. In spite of wise saws, one is often tempted to
believe that occasionally fine feathers make fine birds.

We rode on steadily, stopping for an hour or two during the hottest part
of the day, and putting up late at night at a dilapidated inn in a
half-deserted village. The landlord, a bent, feeble, old man, had gone
to bed, but he set about preparing some supper, while, since there was
no ostler, we fed and groomed the animals ourselves.

"We must start at daybreak," said Jacques, when we had finished our
meal; "that will give us four hours' sleep."

"Fourteen would suit me better!" I laughed, as we followed our host to
the guest-chamber, and, indeed, I was so thoroughly tired that my head
scarcely touched the pillow before I was sound asleep.

It was still dark when Jacques roused me, and by dawn we were once more
on the road. On this second day's journey the ravages of the late war
were plainly apparent, and the sights made one's heart ache. The fields
lay waste and untilled; the cattle, few in number, were mere bundles of
skin and bone; the villages were half-emptied of their inhabitants,
while those who remained resembled skeletons rather than human beings.

"And all this," exclaimed my companion bitterly, "is the work of the
Italian woman and her friends. It is time that Frenchmen took their