"Very well, monsieur le commandant."
"Yes, yes; I think he will be good; if he is not, tell me." With that he went away.
"I must be good, Giulia?" I said, as I lit the cigar again.
"Yes; very good, my comrade; you must never offend me again."
"Ah! you do not forget—perhaps you will never forget—and then, what is the good of being forgiven?"
"I will forget; yes, I will never remember, unless you force me to."
I promised that I should never offend her again, and she smiled and said that she believed me.
"Nobody will enter here during the day," I told her, "and I will leave the box here; if I do not I must carry it everywhere with me, and that will be inconvenient."
Giulia asked me why I should carry it about with me, and I told her that I should have no peace or ease of mind while it was out of my sight unless it was in the canteen, which was near so many sentinels. I also mentioned my fears for its safety the previous night and the precautions that I had taken. She was very sorry that I had been so restless, and advised me to leave it in future in the canteen. To this I demurred. I told her that if the box were there, I should be getting up at all hours of the night to come and look at the place, and perhaps I might be shot by a sentry. "But can we not find a hiding-place—some place that nobody could find even in broad daylight?" The idea struck me as a good one. We searched in all directions, and finally decided on an empty box half-full of straw that had contained bottles. By leaving this, of course, without the money, in full view of everybody during the day, no man who might enter at night would dream of searching it. Then I proposed that we should put only the money there every evening and that I should take away the empty box.
"No, my friend, you shall not. Something might happen if the bad ones thought that the box was full; better lose the money than a good friend's life."