Meanwhile the Chasseur had gone on, and I could not see him. Soon afterwards I came to a great building, and recognising it as a posting-house, I made up my mind to pass the night there. An infantry soldier, the sentinel, called out: 'Who goes there?'
'A friend,' I answered, and entered.
The first thing I saw was about thirty men, some of them sleeping, others cooking horseflesh and rice, round several fires. To the right were three men, sitting round a bowl of rice. I sank down beside them. After a moment I tried to speak to one of them, pulling him by his coat. He looked at me without a word. Then, in a piteous tone, I said in a low voice, that the others might not hear: 'Comrade, I entreat you, let me eat some spoonfuls of rice. I will pay you. You will do me a great service; you will save my life.'
At the same time I offered him two pieces of five francs, which he took, saying, 'Eat.'
He handed me his spoon and an earthenware plate, and also gave up his place near the fire. For my ten francs there were about fifteen spoonfuls of rice still left.
I looked about me when I had eaten to see if the old Chasseur were there. I discovered him near a hayrack, busy cutting up a bearskin to make ear-lappets of. This bearskin belonged to the Dutch Grenadier; he had picked it up when I saw him stoop. I went over to him to rest, but hardly was I stretched on the straw when the sentinel exclaimed, 'Look out!' saying that he had caught sight of Cossacks.
Immediately everybody jumped up and seized their arms. A shout was heard, 'A friend—Frenchman!'
Two cavalrymen entered the barn, and, dismounting, showed themselves. But several began questioning them, in particular the old Chasseur, who said:
'How is it you are on horseback, and dressed like a Cossack? Probably to rob and pillage our sick and wounded.'