It appeared at first to be a total ruin, and bore the marks
of fire upon its blackened walls: but on entering we discovered one
room that had some portion of a roof over it, and, better still, a
quantity of straw spread about the floor. We were gathering this up
to make rough beds of it, when we perceived a trap door in the
floor, and it occurred to me that if it led down to a dry cellar,
such as were not uncommon in farmhouses in England, this would
prove a more secure refuge than the room on a level with the road.
Lifting the trap door, I found that it was even as I hoped. The
cellar beneath was large, and dimly illuminated through a grating
let into the wall just above the level of the ground. I perceived,
too, that it had a door, so that in the unlikely event of our
re-entrance by the trap door being prevented, we could still escape
into the open. There was straw also in the cellar, and it did not
take us many seconds to decide that here we would lay down our
tired bodies and gain some sleep. My purpose was, after resting, to
go exploring alone, trusting to my knowledge of the French tongue
to procure some food and also to learn something of the lie of the
land, for there must assuredly be a habitation somewhere in the
neighborhood.
We all descended into the cellar, closing the trap door after us,
and gladly stretched our limbs upon the straw. It did not appear
necessary to keep a watch. The farm had clearly not been inhabited
for many years, and there was no reason to fear that our rest would
be disturbed.
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