Any little hesitation I may have felt passed entirely unnoticed, from the lucky incident of a round happening at that moment to go by.  And during the interval of silence there occurred something that sent my blood to the boil.  There was a private in our shed called Clausel, a man of a very ugly disposition.  He had made one of the followers of Goguelat; but, whereas Goguelat had always a kind of monstrous gaiety about him, Clausel was no less morose than he was evil-minded.  He was sometimes called the General, and sometimes by a name too ill-mannered for repetition.  As we all sat listening, this man’s hand was laid on my shoulder, and his voice whispered in my ear:  ’If you don’t go, I’ll have you hanged, Marquis!’

As soon as the round was past—­’Certainly, gentlemen!’ said I.  ’I will give you a lead, with all the pleasure in the world.  But, first of all, there is a hound here to be punished.  M. Clausel has just insulted me, and dishonoured the French army; and I demand that he run the gauntlet of this shed.’

There was but one voice asking what he had done, and, as soon as I had told them, but one voice agreeing to the punishment.  The General was, in consequence, extremely roughly handled, and the next day was congratulated by all who saw him on his new decorations.  It was lucky for us that he was one of the prime movers and believers in our project of escape, or he had certainly revenged himself by a denunciation.  As for his feelings towards myself, they appeared, by his looks, to surpass humanity; and I made up my mind to give him a wide berth in the future.

Had I been to go down that instant, I believe I could have carried it well.  But it was already too late—­the day was at hand.  The rest had still to be summoned.  Nor was this the extent of my misfortune; for the next night, and the night after, were adorned with a perfect galaxy of stars, and showed every cat that stirred in a quarter of a mile.  During this interval, I have to direct your sympathies on the Vicomte de Saint-Yves!  All addressed me softly, like folk round a sickbed.  Our Italian corporal, who had got a dozen of oysters from a fishwife, laid them at my feet, as though I were a Pagan idol; and I have never since been wholly at my ease in the society of shellfish.  He who was the best of our carvers brought me a snuff-box, which he had just completed, and which, while it was yet in hand, he had often declared he would not part with under fifteen dollars.  I believe the piece was worth the money too!  And yet the voice stuck in my throat with which I must thank him.  I found myself, in a word, to be fed up like a prisoner in a camp of anthropophagi, and honoured like the sacrificial bull.  And what with these annoyances, and the risky venture immediately ahead, I found my part a trying one to play.