Before he slept he often heard something grumbling and growling above him, which was some little satisfaction.

Thus instinct was outwitted, and victorious Reason lay chuckling on feathers, and not quite choked with dust.
At peep of day Gerard rose, flung the feather bed upon his snoring companion, and went in search of milk and air.
A cheerful voice hailed him in French: "What ho! you are up with the sun, comrade." "He rises betimes that lies in a dog's lair," answered Gerard crossly.
"Courage, l'ami! le diable est mort," was the instant reply.

The soldier then told him his name was Denys, and he was passing from Flushing in Zealand to the Duke's French dominions; a change the more agreeable to him, as he should revisit his native place, and a host of pretty girls who had wept at his departure, and should hear French spoken again.

"And who are you, and whither bound ?" "My name is Gerard, and I am going to Rome," said the more reserved Hollander, and in a way that invited no further confidences.
"All the better; we will go together as far as Burgundy." "That is not my road." "All roads take to Rome." "Ay, but the shortest road thither is my way." "Well, then, it is I who must go out of my way a step for the sake of good company, for thy face likes me, and thou speakest French, or nearly." "There go two words to that bargain," said Gerard coldly.

"I steer by proverbs, too.