"Ah yes, I must be going," said the soldier, in French surprisingly good for an English private. "I have lost my regiment. I fell lame and dropped behind. Can you get me anything to eat?"
"Why yes, if you will be content with simple fare. These are hard times, monsieur. But who would not suffer for France? Come to my cottage hard by; I can at least give you a crust and a mouthful of wine. We French and you English are comrades, to be sure."
"Is your cottage far?"
"A few steps only; it is quite by itself. You would get better food in the village, but that is two miles away."
"I'll get a good meal when I rejoin my regiment. All I want now is a little to help me on my way."
"Yes, yes, I understand. Come then; it is only a few steps."
He set off through the wood, the soldier limping by his side, crossed the road, and came within a few minutes to a little timber cabin. There the soldier, sitting on a low stool, ate ravenously the bread and strong cheese given him, and drank deep draughts of the thin red wine. The old man watched him benignantly, thinking perhaps that he ate as though seeing no near prospect of a full meal.
"You haven't seen my regiment, I suppose?" said the soldier.
"How can I tell?" replied the Frenchman, lifting his hands. "I have seen many regiments; whether yours was among them I do not know."
The soldier noticed a glance towards his shoulders.