We turned five or six corners and soon arrived in a little open place before a high barrack, where we were ordered to halt.
There was a shed at the corner of the barrack, and in it a cantinière seated behind a small table, under a great tri-colored umbrella from which hung two lanterns.
Several officers arrived as soon as we halted; they were the Commandant Gémeau and some others whom I have since known. They pressed our captain's hand laughing, then looked at us and ordered the roll to be called. After that, we each received a ration of bread and a billet for lodging. We were told that roll-call would take place the next morning at eight o'clock for the distribution of arms, and then we were ordered to break ranks, while the officers turned up a street to the left and went into a great coffee-house, the entrance to which was approached by a flight of fifteen steps.
But we, with our billets for lodging—what were we to do with them in the middle of such a city, and, above all, the Italians, who did not know a word either of German or French?
My first idea was to see the cantinière under her umbrella. She was an old Alsatian, round and chubby, and, when I asked for the Capougner-Strasse, she replied:
"What will you pay for?"
I was obliged to take a glass of eau-de-vie with her; then she said:
"Look just opposite there; if you turn the first corner to the right, you will find the Capougner-Strasse. Good evening, conscript."
She laughed.
Furst and Zébédé' were also billeted in the Capougner-Strasse and we set out, glad enough to be able to limp together through the strange city.