on we once more
proceeded on our route.

Nothing remarkable occurred during our first day's march, except perhaps
a curious conversation between O'Brien and one of the French soldiers,
in which they disputed about the comparative bravery of the two nations.
O'Brien, in his argument, told the Frenchman that his countrymen could
not stand a charge of English bayonets. The Frenchman replied that there
was no doubt but the French were quite as brave as the English--even
more so; and that, as for not standing the charge of bayonets, it was
not because they were less brave; but the fact was, that they were most
excessively _ticklish_. We had black bread and sour wine served out to
us this day, when we halted to refresh. O'Brien persuaded a soldier to
purchase something for us more eatable; but the French officer heard of
it, and was very angry, ordering the soldier to the rear.

Chapter XX

O'Brien fights a duel with a French officer, and proves that the great
art of fencing is knowing nothing about it--We arrive at our new
quarters, which we find very secure.

At night we arrived at a small town, the name of which I forget. Here we
were all put into an old church for the night, and a very bad night we
passed. They did not even give us a little straw to lie down upon: the
roof of the church had partly fallen in, and the moon shone through very
brightly. This was some comfort; for to have been shut up in the dark,
seventy-five in number, would have been very miserable. We were afraid
to lie down anywhere, as, like all ruined buildings in France, the
ground was covered with filth, and the smell was shocking. O'Brien was
very thoughtful, and would hardly answer any question that I put to him;
it was evident that he was brooding over the affront which he had
received from the French officer. At daybreak, the door of the church
was again opened by the French soldiers, and we were conducted to the
square of the town, where we found the troops quartered, drawn up with
their officers, to receive us from the detachment who had escorted us
from Toulon. We were very much pleased with this, as we knew that we
should be forwarded by another detachment, and thus be rid of the brutal
officer who had hitherto had charge of the prisoners. But we were rid of
him in another way. As the French officers walked along our ranks to
look at us, I perceived among them a captain, whom we had known very
intimately when we were living at Cett