approaching the place the odour of sanctity[1] became distinctly perceptible; and on turning a corner the cause was manifested; there was the priest of the place, surrounded by some of his flock. I advanced humbly, hat in hand, but almost before a word could be said, he broke out with, "Who are you?" "What are you?" "What do you want?" I endeavoured to explain. "You are a deserter; I know you are a deserter; go away, you can't stay here; go to Le Monta, down there; I won't have you here," and he literally drove me away. The explanation of his strange behaviour was that Piedmontese soldiers who were tired of the service had not unfrequently crossed the Col de la Traversette into the valley, and trouble had arisen from harbouring them. However, I did not know this at the time, and was not a little indignant that I, who was marching to the attack, should be taken for a deserter.
So I walked away, and shortly afterwards, as it was getting dark, encamped in a lovely hole—a cavity or kind of basin in the earth, with a stream on one side, a rock to windward, and some broken pine branches close at hand. Nothing could be more perfect: rock, hole, wood, and water. After making a roaring fire, I nestled in my blanket bag (an ordinary blanket sewn up, double round the legs, with a piece of elastic riband round the open end), and slept, but not for long. I was troubled with dreams of the Inquisition; the tortures were being applied—priests were forcing fleas down my nostrils and into my eyes—and with red-hot pincers were taking out bits of flesh, and then cutting off my ears and tickling the soles of my feet. This was too much; I yelled a great yell and awoke, to find myself covered with innumerable crawling bodies; they were ants; I had camped by an ant-hill, and, after making its inhabitants mad with the fire, had coolly lain down in their midst.
The night was fine, and as I settled down in more comfortable
- ↑ See p.22.
amassa tout so que aou lavie, sen ane diens un païs etraugie ben leigu, aount aous dissipe tout soun be diens la grande deipensa et en deibaucha. Apres qu'aou lague tout deipensa, larribe una grand famina diens iquaou pais ilai, et aou cheique diens lou besoign."—Ladoucette's Histoire des Hautes-Alpes, pp. 613, 618.
