e little
streets, so narrow that we could scarcely see the stars between the
chimneys. Captain Florentin, and the two lieutenants, Clavel and
Bretonville, were awaiting us. After roll-call our sergeants led us by
detachments to the rooms above the Chasseurs. They were great halls
with little windows, and between the windows were the beds.

Sergeant Pinto hung his lantern to the pillar in the middle; each man
placed his piece in the rack, and then took off his knapsack, his
blouse and his shoes, without speaking. Zebede was my bed-fellow. God
knows we were sleepy enough. Twenty minutes after, we were buried in
slumber.

X

At Frankfort I learned to understand military life. Up to that time I
had been but a simple conscript, then I became a soldier. I do not
speak merely of drill,--the way of turning the head right or left,
measuring the steps, lifting the hand to the height of the first or
second band to load, aiming, recovering arms at the word of
command--that is only an affair of a month or two, if a man really
desires to learn; but I speak of discipline--of remembering that the
corporal is always in the right when he speaks to a private soldier,
the sergeant when he speaks to the corporal, the sergeant-major when
speaking to the sergeant, the second lieutenant when he orders the
sergeant-major, and so on to the Marshal of France--even if the
superior asserts that two and two make five, or that the moon shines at
midday.

This is very difficult to learn; but there is one thing that assists
you immensely, and that is a sort of placard hung up in every room in
the barracks, and which is from time to time read to you. This placard
presupposes everything that a soldier might wish to do, as, for
instance, to return home, to refuse to serve, to resist his officer,
and always ends by speaking of death, or at least five years with a
ball and chain.

The day after our arrival at Frankfort I wrote to Monsieur Goulden, to
Catharine, and to Aunt Gredel. You may imagine how sadly. It seemed
to me, in addressing them, that I was yet at home. I told them of the
hardships I had undergone, of the good luck that had happened to me at
Mayence, and the courage it required not to drop behind in the march.
I told them that I was in good health, for which I thanked God, and
that I was even stronger than before I left home, and sent them a
thousand remembrances. Our Phalsbourg conscripts, who saw me writing,
made m