I had proceeded several miles without encountering any body at that still hour of the night, occasionally alarmed at the barking of some snarling cur, as I passed through the small villages in my route,—­when, worn out with fatigue and cold, I sat down under a hedge to screen myself from the cold “mistral” which blew.  As the wind lulled, I heard sounds of voices in lamentation, which appeared to proceed from the road at a short distance.  I rose, and continued my route, when I stumbled over the body of a man.  I examined him by the faint light that was emitted from the stars.  He was quite dead; and it immediately occurred to me that a robbery had been committed, and the lamentations which I had heard proceeded from those who had escaped with their lives.  The cloak of the dead man was lying underneath him; it was a capote, such as are worn by officers.  I unclasped it from his neck, round which it was fastened with two bear’s-paws chased in silver, and, wrapping it round my benumbed limbs, proceeded further on to where I now occasionally heard voices much plainer than before.  I again fell in with two more prostrate bodies, and, as the day had now begun to break, perceived that they were clothed like people of low condition.  Passing my hand over their faces, I felt that they were quite dead and stiff.  Afraid that if found close to the spot, and unable to give any account of myself, I should be accused of murder, I thought of immediate flight; but the plaintive voice of a woman met my ears, and it was an appeal that I could not resist.  I proceeded a few yards further, and perceived a carriage, the horses of which lay dead in their traces, with the driver beside them.  To the hind wheels were secured with ropes an elderly man and a young woman.

“God be praised, my dear father, help is at hand!” said the young woman, as I approached; and as I came close to them, she cried out, “Oh, I know him by his cloak; it’s the gentleman who defended us so gallantly, and whom we supposed to have been killed.  Are you much hurt, sir?”

Aware that I had better be any body than myself, with my usual invention and presence of mind I replied, “Not much, madam, thanks be to heaven!  I was stunned, and they left me for dead:  I am happy that I am still alive, to be of service to you:”  and I immediately proceeded to cast loose the ropes by which the father and daughter (as by their conversation they appeared to be) had been confined to the wheels.  The robbers had stripped them both nearly to the skin, and they were so numbed with the cold that they could scarcely stand when they were unbound,—­the poor girl especially, who shivered as if suffering under a tertian ague.  I proposed that they should enter the carriage as the best shelter they could receive from the bitter keen wind which blew, and they agreed to the prudence of my suggestion.

“If I am not requesting too great a favour, sir,” said the old gentleman, “I wish you would lend my poor daughter that cloak, for she is perishing with the cold.”