I
thought "If I could only get a place at the corner of a good fire, I
would gladly forego that pleasure."

At last he arrived in front of us, and I can yet see him, his chapeau
dripping with rain, his blue coat covered with embroidery and
decorations, and his great boots. He was a handsome, florid man, with
a short nose and sparkling eyes. He did not seem at all haughty; for,
as he passed our company, who presented arms, he turned suddenly in his
saddle and said:

"Hold! It is Florentin!"

Then the captain stood erect, not knowing what to reply. It seemed
that the Marshal and he had been common soldiers together in the time
of the Republic. The captain at last answered:

"Yes, Marshal; it is Sebastian Florentin."

"Faith, Florentin," said the Marshal, stretching him arm toward Russia,
"I am glad to see you again. I thought we had left you there."

All our company felt honored, and Zebede said: "That is what I call a
man. I would spill my blood for him."

I could not see why Zebede should wish to spill his blood because the
Marshal had spoken a few words to an old comrade.

That's all I remember of Aschaffenbourg.

In the evening we went in again to eat our soup at Schweinheim, a place
rich in wines, hemp, and corn, where almost everybody looked at us with
unfriendly eyes.

We lodged by threes or fours in the houses, like so many bailiff's men,
and had meat every day, either beef, mutton, or bacon.

Our bread was very good, as was also our wine. But many of our men
pretended to find fault with everything, thinking thus to pass for
people of consequence. They were mistaken; for more than once I heard
the citizens say in German:

"Those fellows, in their own country, were only beggars. If they
returned to France, they would find nothing but potatoes to live upon."

And the citizens were quite right; and I always found that people so
difficult to please abroad were but poor wretches at home. For my
part, I was well content to meet such good fare. Two conscripts from
St.-Die were with me at the village-postmaster's: his horses had almost
all been taken for our cavalry. This could not have put him into a
good humor; but he said nothing, and smoked his pipe behind the stove
from morning till night. His wife was a tall, strong woman, and his
two daughters were very pretty; they were afraid of us, and ran away
when we returned from drill, or from mounting guard at the end of the
village.

On the