Fabrizio soon came upon some cantinières, and the deep gratitude he felt toward the jailer's wife incited him to address them. He inquired of one of them as to where the Fourth Regiment of Hussars, to which he belonged, might be.

"You would do much better not to be in such a hurry, my young fellow," replied the woman, touched by Fabrizio's pallor and the beauty of his eyes. "Your hand is not steady enough yet for the sword play that this day must see! Now, if you had only a gun, I don't say but that you might fire it off as well as any other man."

The advice was not pleasing to Fabrizio, but, however much he pressed his horse, he could not get it to travel any faster than the sutler's cart. Every now and then the artillery fire seemed to grow closer, and prevented each from hearing what the other said, for so wild was the boy with enthusiasm and delight that he had begun to talk again. Every word the woman dropped increased his joy, by making him realize it more fully. He ended by telling the woman, who seemed thoroughly kind-hearted, the whole of his adventures, with the exception of his real name and his flight from prison. She was much astonished, and could make neither head nor tail of the handsome young soldier's story.

"I have it!" she cried at last, with a look of triumph. "You are a young civilian, in love with the wife of some captain in the Fourth Hussars! Your ladylove has given you the uniform you wear, and you are tearing about after her. As sure as God reigns above us, you are no soldier; you have never been a soldier! But, like the brave fellow[37] you are, you are determined to be with your regiment while it is under fire rather than be taken for a coward."

Fabrizio agreed to everything. That was the only method by which he could secure good advice. "I know nothing of these French people's ways," said he to himself, "and if somebody doesn't guide me I shall get myself into prison again, or some fellow will steal my horse from me!"

"In the first place, my boy," said the cantinière, who was growing more and more friendly, "you must admit you are under twenty-I don't believe you are an hour over seventeen!"

That was true, and Fabrizio willingly admitted it.

"Then you're not even a conscript-it's simply and solely for the lady's sake that you are risking your bones. Bless me, she's not oversqueamish! If you still have any of the yellow boys she has given you in your pocket, the first thing you must do is to buy yourself another horse. Look how that brute of yours pricks up her ears whenever the guns growl a little close to her! That's a peasant's horse; it'll kill you the moment you get to the front. See that white smoke yonder, over the hedge? That means musket volleys! Therefore, my fine fellow, make ready to be in a horrible fright when you hear the bullets whistling over your head. You had far better eat a bit now, while you have the time."

Fabrizio acted on her advice, and, pulling a napoleon out of his pocket, requested the cantinière to pay herself out of it.

"It's a downright pity!" cried the good woman; "the poor child doesn't even know how to spend his money!

- Taken from "The Charterhouse of Parma" written by Stendhal