n hour later Morgan returned. By this time the officer's
windows were dark like all the others of the barracks.

"Well?" asked Morgan.

"Well," replied Valensolle, "it ended most prosaically. They undressed
themselves, blew out the candles, and lay down, the captain on his bed,
Roland on a mattress. They are probably trying to outsnore each other at
the present moment."

"In that case," said Morgan, "good-night to them, and to us also."

Ten minutes later the wish was granted, and the two young men were
sleeping, as if they did not have danger for a bed-fellow.

CHAPTER XLI. THE HOTEL DE LA POSTE

That same morning, about six o'clock, at the cold gray breaking of a
February day, a rider, spurring a post-hack and preceded by a postilion
who was to lead back the horse, left Bourg by the road to Macon or
Saint-Julien.

We say Macon _or_ Saint-Julien, because about three miles from the
capital of Bresse the road forks; the one to the right keeping straight
on to Saint-Julien, the other, which deviates to the left, leading to
Macon.

When the rider reached this bifurcation, he was about to take the road
leading to Macon, when a voice, apparently coming from beneath an upset
cart, implored his pity. The rider called to the postilion to see what
the matter was.

A poor market-man was pinned down under a load of vegetables. He had
evidently attempted to hold up the cart just as the wheel, sinking into
the ditch, overbalanced the vehicle. The cart had fallen on him, but
fortunately, he said, he thought no limbs were broken, and all he wanted
was to get the cart righted, and then he could recover his legs.

The rider was compassionate to his fellow being, for he not only
allowed the postilion to stop and help the market-man, but he himself
dismounted, and with a vigor one would hardly have expected from so
slight a man, he assisted the postilion not only to right the cart, but
to replace it on the roadbed. After which he offered to help the man to
rise; but the latter had said truly; he really was safe and sound, and
if there were a slight shaking of the legs, it only served to prove
the truth of the proverb that God takes care of drunkards. The man was
profuse in his thanks, and took his horse by the bridle, as much, it was
evident, to hold himself steady as to lead the animal.

The riders remounted their homes, put them to a gallop, and soon
disappeared round a bend which the road makes a short distance befor