an undefined group rolling on the floor in the convulsions of
a desperate struggle--so much was all he could see and understand at the
first glance. Soon Fougas, lit up by the ruddy glow of the candle,
discovered that he was struggling with Gothon, like Jacob with the
angel, and went back, confused and pitiable, to bed.

The Colonel had gone to sleep over the history of Napoleon, without
putting out the candle. Gothon, after finishing her work, saw the light
under the door. Her thoughts recurred to that poor Baptiste, who,
perhaps, was groaning in purgatory for having let himself tumble from a
roof. Hoping that Fougas could give her some news of her lover, she
rapped several times, at first softly, then much louder. The Colonel's
silence and the lighted candle made it seem to the servant that there
was something wrong. The fire might catch the curtains, and from thence
the whole building. She accordingly set down the candle, opened the
door, and went, with cat-like steps, to put out the light. Possibly the
eyes of the sleeper vaguely perceived the passage of a shadow; possibly
Gothon, with her big, awkward figure, made a board in the floor creak.
Fougas partially awoke, heard the rustling of a dress, dreamed it one of
those adventures which were wont to spice garrison life under the first
empire, and held out his arms blindly, calling Clementine. Gothon, on
finding herself seized by the hair and shoulders, responded by such a
masculine blow that the enemy supposed himself attacked by a man. The
blow was returned with interest; further exchanges followed, and they
finished by clinching and rolling on the floor.

If anybody ever did feel shamefaced, Fougas was certainly the man.
Gothon went to bed, considerably bruised; the Renault family talked
sense into the Colonel, and got out of him pretty much what they wanted.
He promised to set out next day, accepted as a loan the money offered
him, and swore not to return until he should have recovered his
epaulettes and secured the Dantzic bequest.

"And then," said he, "I'll marry Clementine."

On that point it was useless to argue with him; the idea was fixed.

Everybody slept soundly in the mansion of the Renaults; the heads of the
house, because they had had three sleepless nights; Fougas and Gothon,
because each had been unmercifully pummelled; and the young Celestin,
because he had drunk the heeltaps from all the glasses.

The next morning M. Rollon came to know if F