I smiled inwardly at the rascal's trick.
"Pons," I ordered, without opening my eyes, "water, cold water, quick, a deluge.

I drank over long last night, and now my gullet scorches." "And slept over long to-day," he scolded, as he passed me the water, ready in his hand.
I sat up, opened my eyes, and carried the tankard to my lips with both my hands.

And as I drank I looked at Pons.
Now note two things.

I spoke in French; I was not conscious that I spoke in French.

Not until afterward, back in solitary, when I remembered what I am narrating, did I know that I had spoken in French--ay, and spoken well.