hen he encountered a good old woman,
who dressed his wound and nursed him night and day. So that in a few
weeks he recovered, and was able to set out for Artigues, too thankful
to return to his house and land, still more to his wife and child, and
fully resolved never to leave them again.

Having ended his story, he shook hands with his still wondering
neighbours, addressing by name some who had been very young when he
left, and who, hearing their names, came forward now as grown men,
hardly recognisable, but much pleased at being remembered. He returned
his sisters' caresses, begged his uncle's forgiveness for the
trouble he had given in his boyhood, recalling with mirth the various
corrections received. He mentioned also an Augustinian monk who had
taught him to read, and another reverend father, a Capuchin, whose
irregular conduct had caused much scandal in the neighbourhood. In
short, notwithstanding his prolonged absence, he seemed to have a
perfect recollection of places, persons, and things. The good people
overwhelmed him with congratulations, vying with one another in praising
him for having the good sense to come home, and in describing the grief
and the perfect virtue of his Bertrande. Emotion was excited, many wept,
and several bottles from Martin Guerre's cellar were emptied. At
length the assembly dispersed, uttering many exclamations about the
extraordinary chances of Fate, and retired to their own homes, excited,
astonished, and gratified, with the one exception of old Pierre Guerre,
who had been struck by an unsatisfactory remark made by his nephew, and
who dreamed all night about the chances of pecuniary loss augured by the
latter's return.

It was midnight before the husband and wife were alone and able to give
vent to their feelings. Bertrande still felt half stupefied; she could
not believe her own eyes and ears, nor realise that she saw again in her
marriage chamber her husband of eight years ago, him for whom she had
wept; whose death she had deplored only a few hours previously. In the
sudden shock caused by so much joy succeeding so much grief, she had not
been able to express what she felt; her confused ideas were difficult to
explain, and she seemed deprived of the powers of speech and reflection.
When she became calmer and more capable of analysing her feelings, she
was astonished not to feel towards her husband the same affection which
had moved her so strongly a few hours before. It was ce