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Face Value by GENEVA Made Mademoiselle When the Emperor Napoleon had invaded Austria, just before his victory at Austerlitz, Jerome Meunier and I, Henri Cachin, were part of the French forces, in an infantry regiment. I suppose I should have been proud to do military service and serve under the greatest general that France had seen, but the soldier's life was not for me. As a street urchin in Bordeaux I had been involved in some petty theft from the shopkeepers, and as I grew older I graduated to a neighborhood gang. Initially we were not enough trouble to have the authorities make a serious effort to stamp us out, but I had been warned, through a relative in the city government, that a big crackdown was planned. He suggested strongly that the army would be a good place to go to save my skin. In fact he gave me little choice, but I soon knew I had made a mistake. I was sure Jerome was not fond of the soldier's life either. We were both seventeen, and I had known him since we were boys, but he had not been part of our group. It seemed to me he had kept to himself and not participated much in the usual rough and tumble boy's activities. While the emperor occupied Vienna, our company was sent to scour the Austrian countryside for supplies, food for the troops and fodder for the horses, and so on. At one location, just west of Salzburg, things went wrong. I had persuaded Jerome to help me sample a little of the supplies the officers had reserved for themselves. We had broken into the stores and loaded up with some brandy and food, and a couple of pieces of silver plate, when we turned around to see our captain watching us. Not only that, he had a couple of our comrades with him pointing their muskets at us. I knew we would get a flogging or even worse, and that decided me. I had taken enough of the army. We were lucky that our guard was rather careless and with a little trickery I was able to knock him on the head and we escaped, sneaking away from our camp. As I said, none of us liked the army much. After all, we were not really volunteers. There were too many bossy officers, and even though the emperor had many brilliant successes, the endless campaigns were costing a lot of French lives. I had lost two friends in some fighting already. It was even rumored Napoleon might try to attack Russia sometime. That was the last thing I wanted, to trek through Russian snow and winter cold to Moscow and back. This was our opportunity to escape, and we took it. We headed west, in the opposite direction to our troop, until we had put the best part of a day between us, but we were not able to get as far away as I would have liked. After all, we were on foot and the roads were muddy from recent rain, and we had to keep away from any villages or farms, just in case of trouble with any of the Austrian peasants. It was slow, dirty progress, crossing fields and ditches, but, towards late afternoon, we came upon a large house on an isolated country estate. We were now getting pretty tired and I decided it would be a good place to lie low for a day or two while we made some plans for how we would get back to Bordeaux. I had made a good choice. The house was only occupied by an old Austrian woman and a few servants. Lucky for us, she was able to speak French, although in a barbaric Austrian accent, and introduced herself as Thereza, Countess von Steiffen. At first we pretended we were still officially part of the French army and that we were going to requisition provisions from her. She did not like our intrusion, of course, and the thought of having to feed and lodge a couple of enemy soldiers, with the strong probability she would lose much more of her stuff. She liked it even less when she realized we were more interested in her valuables, rather than in any supplies for the army, but she had no choice about having us around. If she objected too much she knew we would simply take over the house completely and boot her out. After a nice supper, courtesy of her cook, we found her wine cellar. Her selection was not bad, although she did not have much in the way of French wines. There was far too much thin German stuff, and some rough Hungarian stuff, but she did have a few bottles of a nice Burgundy and her selection of brandy was not bad. Of course, I would have preferred some nice Bordeaux wines, but maybe that was just my provincialism. We settled down for the night in one of the main rooms. The next day Jerome and I started giving the place a thorough going-over, checking out her valuables. The countess had a lot of nice furniture, but we were really after jewelry and other stuff that we could easily move and hide. The old woman was keeping an eye on us though, hovering nervously in the background like a hen, making me nervous too. Her servants had run off by this time. I would have preferred she had done the same. I cursed when we discovered they had run off with the horses and carriage, so unless we could get other transportation, we might have to walk back to France. Eventually, in the east wing of the house, we came to one room. The door was locked. "What's in here?" I asked the old woman. "Nothing much. Just some old stuff belonging to my son." "Your son?" A few tears filled her eyes. "He was abducted by Turkish bandits years ago, when our family was in eastern Hungary. I am keeping it in case he ever returns." She shook her head sadly. "No, it is really for sentimental reasons." There was something about the way she spoke that made me think she was hiding something, and I demanded she open the door, but she got very upset. In fact, she was almost in tears. Her fuss made me even more convinced she had something valuable hidden away, and when she still refused Jerome and I simply broke down the door. In fact, there was little in the room, just some racks of old-fashioned men's clothing and a locked wooden chest. Everything was covered with dust. "Open the chest." I commanded. She shook her head. It was only when I pointed to my gun she decided to cooperate. She took a key from niche and opened the chest. I rummaged through its compartments, and laughed when I found a small bag of gold coins. There was enough money here to set us up pretty well back in Bordeaux. There was also a small sturdy metal box. I shook the box but there was only the muffled sound of something sliding around inside. The countess was now looking at me with a very worried expression. I got the idea it might have a list of valuables, or have treasure maps, you never know. "What's this?" I held out he box to her. She shook her head. "Nothing much. It only contains a book that belonged to my son." "What's in the book?" "It is only a ... some little token, a book he got from a gypsy girl." From her nervous manner I knew she was hiding something. No one would be that concerned over an old book. I slipped the box into my pocket, but the old woman grabbed my arm. "Please, soldiers, I beg you. Take everything else. Take the money, but please leave the old book." "What of it?" I said. "It's only an old book." "Please," she repeated. She was sounding desperate. "The words in the book are.... dangerous. You must leave it with me. It has spells. Magic." I wondered if the old woman was raving. "Magic?" I thought. "She must be out of her mind". I knew there were no such things as spells. "Well," I said. "If it has spells, maybe I can turn myself into a dragon. Then it will be useful in battle. Or does it turn people into toads?" I laughed. She gave a visible start. Maybe there was something hidden in the book. I pushed her away, but she held onto my arm desperately. Jerome pulled her off, but she began screaming and trying to get the book from me, so we pushed her into the room and locked the door on her, still screaming and shouting. I hoped she would not disturb our sleep that night. "Don't you think we should let her out?" Said Jerome. In case she does herself harm." "Serve her right for trying to conceal things from us." But then I thought of the consequences if she got injured or died. "Damn," I thought, not that I was really bothered about robbing her, but if we were caught by the Austrian authorities, they might not bother about treating us as prisoners-of-war. They might simply execute us. If we were caught by our own side in the house, in addition to charges of desertion and theft, our captain might be fussy about robbing the Austrian woman and add to the charges. The hypocrites that they were, the army did not mind robbery done in its own name, but got all indignant about anything we did on our own. It was likely we would be shot. Of course, our captain might just want a share of any loot we had gathered. Oh well, we can let her out in the morning. She should have cooled down then." Jerome straightened his uniform and rubbed the dust off his boots. He always seemed a bit too fastidious about his clothes. I was thinking of the future. We would have to disguise ourselves to get back to Bordeaux. Even there we would have to keep out of sight of any authorities. We were now getting hungry and made a good meal of some food we found in the kitchen. I opened another bottle of Burgundy, and I was on my second glass when I remembered the small box. I tried to force it open but it was too well made. "Shoot the lock with your musket," suggested Jerome. "No, too noisy, and it might damage something inside. There might be jewelry." Jerome pointed to upstairs. "Talking about noise, the countess seems to have shut up." "Good thing too. Maybe she has fallen asleep." Eventually I was able to force the box open with my bayonet. A package fell out. Nothing else. I had really been hoping for more jewelry. It was as the old Austrian woman had said, only a small book, bound in a kind of light colored hide, and wrapped in a scrap of cloth. I cursed and kicked the box. Only a stupid old book. Why would the old woman make such a fuss for a bundle of paper?" "You never know," said Jerome. "Maybe it has some treasure maps or lists of hiding places?" "Maybe," I said, and I opened the book. I shook my head. There are no maps, and I can't even read it. The pages seem to have only some German words on them, and it's in their Gothic script." "Let me see," said Jerome. "I know a little German." I threw the book over to him and poured myself another cup of Burgundy as a consolation. I scowled at Jerome as he turned the pages. Eventually he looked up. "Well,?" I asked. "What's in it? Treasure directions, alchemists' formulae, or what?" "It depends what you mean," he said. "It seems to be a book of spells, incantations, maybe witchcraft." I snorted and poured another cup of wine. The old woman had good taste in red wines at least. The book was ridiculous. There were no such thing as spells and witchcraft. "Rubbish," I said. "Just like the Austrians to believe such stuff. No wonder they keep losing battles to us. All right, does it tell how to hex our enemies and win battles? Or better still, how about making us invisible, or conjuring us up a magic carpet to get us back home?" "No luck there," said Jerome. "It seems to be physicians' stuff. Now here's the first one. 'To remove birthmarks'." He slowly flicked through the other pages. "There's more, on removing warts, healing cleft lips, curing toothache." He looked at the book again, reading slowly from the first page. "'To remove birthmarks.' This is funny," he said, "It looks like two sets of writings. There are instructions on one page, and then funny words on the other, in different handwriting, also written in Gothic, but the sounds don't seem to be German at all." He sounded out some words to me, but I did not recognize them at all. "So, What does it say about removing the birthmark? Cut it off with a knife?" He ignored me and slowly leafed through to the end of the book. "There seems to be a lot of sets of instructions." He looked at the end pages. He read slowly, then laughed. "Here's an interesting one. 'To make a man into a beautiful woman'." I grunted. The wine was making me feel mellow. I snorted, Why would any man want to become a woman? Stay at home, cooking their smelly Austrian cabbage over a stove, having babies every two years, and looking after snotty brats in their stupid lederhosen?" A strange look came over Jerome's face. I hoped he was not taking that stuff seriously. He started to read the supposed spell, slowly sounding out unfamiliar words. I was no expert in languages, but it didn't sound like German to me either. Anyway, I was not really listening. I had got to concentrating how we might get back to Bordeaux. The more I thought, the more I realized what a mess we had got into. We were French deserters, stuck here in Austria, and it was a long way from home. I felt my stubbly chin. I wondered if it would be better to let it grow, disguise myself with a beard. I poured myself more wine, and offered some to Jerome. "Thanks," he said absently. He seemed absorbed in the book. I topped up his glass and he resumed sounding out the words. I was getting irritated at his mumbling. It was difficult to concentrate on making up a plan with all that background gobbledygook. I wish you would shut up, and stop that mumbo jumbo. I need to think about how we can get home." I said, but he had finished. He laid the book down beside the wine bottle. "I wonder what the old lady wanted that book for?" "Who knows? Sentimental value? Maybe she is really a witch. Then we would do the world a service by taking away her magic book." We were now finished the wine, but there was still a bottle or two of brandy. "How about some brandy now?" I asked. I poured us each a glass, and I took a large swig from mine. I shivered, despite the nice warm glow in my stomach from the brandy. I seemed to be feeling cold. Maybe it was this talk of witchcraft. I caught myself. It was superstitious nonsense. In a minute I shivered again. Damn! I did not want to be getting ill now. We would need to be fit to keep out of the way of any Austrians and our own army. "You feeling cold?" said Jerome. That's funny. So am I." I shrugged and poured some more brandy. "Your health" I said. "No cleft lips, no warts, no turning into women." Damn! What was Jerome blushing at. I was really feeling quite cold now, and rose to get out a blanket from my pack. It did not seem to help. My teeth started chattering and I started shaking violently. I saw Jerome the same way. His eyes were filled with panic. Then I must have fallen unconscious. I slowly became aware of groans, and even in my aching, befuddled state I knew I was only responsible for some of the noises. My head was pounding, my throat was dry and I hurt all over. I had been through hangovers before, but this was the worst I had ever experienced. I wondered if I was ill, or if the old woman could have spiked her wine with poison. I must have lain in that state, semi-conscious, unable to move, for several hours before things got clearer. In the dark room I vaguely heard other groans. I thought it must be Jerome, but the groans sounded funny, too high pitched, even for him. I remember feeling over my aching body. My clothes all seemed to be ill-fitting and wrinkled, and something seemed to be wrong with me, but I was too befuddled to work it out. I must have fallen asleep or unconscious again, as when I next woke, it was getting light. My eyes felt sore and full of grit. My mouth was dry and my groans came out as high pitched croaks. I struggled to rise, but my arms were too weak to support me and I decided to lie a bit longer. At least I did not feel as bad as before. I decided I was feeling better and I would probably live. The next thing I remember is that it was broad daylight. I rolled over and raised my head. I had not heard Jerome for a bit and I wondered where he was. "Henri? Do you hear me?". The voice sounded like Jerome's intonation, but it was strangely pitched, more like a woman's. Was he play acting? Damn him! This was not the time for it. I felt terrible. "Yes," I said. "Ohh, my head. What happened?" He did not reply, but he held a drink to my lips. It tasted like some more wine, but I was nauseous and I had a struggle to drink it, and keep it down. I felt my face being washed and my eyes bathed. They hurt like hell but eventually I was able to open them. Jerome's face was over me, yet there was something different. His features were finer, his skin smoother. He even seemed to have shrunk inside his uniform. I rubbed my eyes and my face, but my skin felt different somehow. My chin and neck were itchy and when I scratched them some of the hair began falling out. I felt it on my hands. I looked at them. For some reason they seemed to look smaller and they were coated with small flecks of my facial hair. I wondered if I had been poisoned. I had heard that some poisons could cause hair to fall out. "God. I feel awful." I gasped. Something did not seem right. My voice was hoarse, and had a funny tone to it. What happened? Was it the wine? How long have I been unconscious?" There it was again, Jerome speaking in that funny voice. "I don't know. I have been unconscious too, but I think it's been for at least a day." "Why are you speaking in that funny high pitched tone?" I growled. At least I tried to growl, but I couldn't seem to get the tone right. I cleared my throat and spat out, but my own voice then seemed to be higher still. He spoke hesitatingly. I'm not the only one. You are speaking higher too. Haven't you noticed?" I peered at him again. He really looked funny, shrunken, his uniform just hanging on him, his coat like a sack. If I didn't know better I could have sworn it was a short haired woman trying to disguise herself as Jerome. I must be really ill, I thought. Maybe delirious. "You even look different," I said. "Are you sure we have only been unconscious for a day or so?" "No. I'm not sure how long we were insensible, but ..," he seemed to hesitate, have you seen yourself? You are changed too." "Changed? What was he talking about?" I wondered. I tried to get to my feet, but I was weak. Even struggling to my hands and knees was difficult. I was fuzzily aware of something pulling at my chest, like weights. Also, my hips felt awkward, heavier somehow. Jerome helped me up. I put my arm around him. Despite the wrinkled, loose clothing, he felt different, softer somehow. My own uniform coat was definitely too loose as well. My pants were too long also, loose around the waist, yet tighter around my hips. He helped me over to a mirror. "Look at yourself." I stared in amazement, slowly changing to shock. It was as he had said. I had shrunk, but what was worse was that I seemed to have changed. My face was softer somehow, less angular, its proportions changed. My three day's growth of beard and mustache was falling out, leaving me with a face that also looked like a woman's! I looked at Jerome. His was the same. Then the thought of the words Jerome had been mumbling hit me. He had said something about a spell, something to do with making beautiful women. I was stunned. My uniform hung on me. I then became aware my chest did not seem right. It was pressing firmly on my uniform. In fact the clothing seemed to be rubbing on it and it was tender. Afraid of what I would find, I painfully unbuttoned my coat and stared at my shirt. Although loose over the shoulders, there were now two bulges in front. I ripped it off and looked down at myself. I screamed. In my view were two globular female breasts, tipped with prominent pink nipples. Facing me in the mirror was the upper torso of a woman. My head was pounding. I wondered if I was hallucinating. The figure was female in all respects, with a slim waist, emphasized by her shapely breasts. Her lovely oval face sat on a long neck. Her hands and arms were slim and delicate. The only thing spoiling the feminine image was the hair incongruously on her chest, in her cleavage. My own chest hair, I realized, and even that was falling off, making a thick mat inside my shirt. I gawked at the image, and in horror saw it looking back at me, exactly mimicking my motions. I became aware of Jerome at my side. He was the same, a face vaguely like his own, but definitely like a woman's. I tore off his shirt. His torso had changed proportions too, with narrow shoulders, and supplied with pert female breasts above a slim waist. Ignoring his protests I tore off his breeches and underwear and saw the waist flaring out to broad curved hips, and entirely missing the male parts. Another horrible thought struck me and I pulled my own breeches and underwear down. My legs were now long and smooth, ending in small delicate feet, but the worst was the lower torso. It was the same as Jerome's, the narrow waist curving out to well defined female hips and a prominent rear, a typical female hourglass figure. I screamed in despair. All my male equipment was gone. I spread my legs and looked down. Most of my thick pubic hair was falling out, leaving a lightly haired mound, with a vertical slit below. I felt in it. There were only female parts, sensitive as well. No doubt about it. I was familiar with them from some of my amorous exploits. The world went red before me. I was consumed with rage. "You silly idiot!" I screamed. "Look what has happened. You and your damned spells." In a fury I began to swing blows at him, but my body was weak and awkward in the wide hips. Then I was on top of him, with my now small female fists pounding him, or at least the female face under me. I had to stop exhausted. He was semi-conscious, crying, bleeding under me. I rolled off him in despair, my head in my hands. What a mess we were in! To add to my misery, I now realized I needed to relieve myself. My black mood was not improved by the realization I would have to sit down and I stumbled around trying to find a chamber pot. Trying to clear my head and think, I stumbled upstairs to where we had locked the old woman. Maybe she knew something to reverse the spell. My chest felt funny, the two breasts bouncing and swaying as I climbed the stairs. I had to hold them in my hands. That was weird, to feel my own chest like a woman's. I was shocked when I saw the door was open. She had escaped. I staggered back downstairs and began to hunt feverishly for the book. falling around, stubbing my toes, trying to keep my balance in this female body. Maybe there was another spell to reverse this one. I had to get my male body back as soon as possible. Eventually I found the book under one of the wine bottles. Some Burgundy had run over it, staining some of the pages a light purple. There was a note pinned to the book. To two foolish French soldiers, I see that you have discovered for yourselves the power of the spells in the book. I have often wondered if the spells were still as effective, after all these years. You have meddled in something dangerous, despite my warnings. The book that you stole from me had a set of spells. These can be used for good purposes, but one of them has in the past caused me personally much grief. I had hoped to keep them from the world, even petty thieves like you, but you refused to listen. Your predicament serves your right. I warned you, but in your own greed you ignored me. So now you must pay the consequences, and experience women's bodies, at least for several days. I hope it will teach you a lesson. I was tempted to have my servants take you to some establishments, ones that can use pretty young women as you now are, but this war has caused enough suffering, and I will have mercy on you. I will even allow you to keep the money. You will change back to men when you use the reverse spell. It is also in the book, just after the one you used. But I warn you not to use it for several days, as you are weak and the reverse spell may have effects as severe as the one you used. It may even kill you if you use it too soon. But, if you do not use the reverse spell, you will have these women's bodies for the rest of your lives. Oh yes. You may wonder how I was able to escape. One of my servants returned and rescued me." It was signed, "Thereza, Countess von Steiffen." I felt a cold fury at the countess, but I was more angry at myself and Jerome. I opened the book and flipped to the end. I could still make out the words through the dark wine stains, but I could not make sense of them. I could not read German, especially the Gothic writing. I would need Jerome or someone else to translate for me. I was now feeling more able to think. I looked at Jerome or whatever the female figure was, weeping beside me. Maybe it was a good thing I hadn't killed him. Maybe that would come later. One of his eyes was swollen, almost closed. His nose was bloody, and his body was bruised and scratched. I threw some cold water on him, but it was an hour or two before he could talk coherently. I say he. It was difficult to think of the figure that lay beside me as a man. Jerome was now a slim graceful female beauty, well, except from the damage I had inflicted on him. At last he coughed and looked at me sheepishly through his half closed eyes. My anger had now run its course and I gave him a glass of water. He sipped it slowly, as if he was testing his new shaped mouth. He shook his head. I'm sorry, Henri. I never thought the spells would work." No, neither did I, but come on, get your head together. You have to see if there is a way to reverse these spells. There is a note here from the countess. She says there is a counter spell." He nodded "Yes, there is. It's just after the one I was reading. I saw it last night, or at least, whenever it was I read the spell. I don't even know how long we have been unconscious." I felt a great wave of relief. "Well? Hurry up and read it out." I handed him the book. He thumbed through it to the end, but I remembered what the countess had written. I grabbed his arm,"No, wait just a bit. The countess says not to use it for several days. Otherwise it may kill us, as its effects are severe. We are supposed to wait several days." "Days?" said Jerome. I bit my lip. Even my lips felt different, fuller somehow. Yes. I know. That's a problem. We want to get on our way back to France, as soon as we can. Otherwise the French army may be snooping around for supplies and find us." Jerome had been leafing through the book. Yes, here is, the reverse spell, but are you sure you want to use it, even after a few days?" Was the man, or whatever he was, an idiot? "Of course I do." "Well, Henri, don't you think we could take advantage of our change? Here we are, two French soldiers on the run. Deserters, thieves. If we are caught it could be the firing squad, guillotine or gallows for us, depending on who catches us. Now we are disguised as women. In fact, we are women." I sat down on a chair and thought. He had a point. Surely no one would suspect us of being the two soldiers. I thought out our options. "There are problems, though. Where do we find women's clothing? We also don't know how to behave as women, and even worse, I only speak French and you only know a little German. Women don't have as much freedom of travel as men and we are stuck in Austria, a long way from home. And another thing, our hair is far too short. We will have to get wigs, or some believable hair covering." On the whole, there did not seem to be much to chose, but certainly if we were caught by either French or Austrians we would probably be executed. I knew that as women we would be more vulnerable, but at least no one would suspect us. Maybe when we finally got back to Bordeaux we could use the reverse spell and disappear in the underworld. I might even be able to work out some schemes or swindles where it would be useful to switch back and forward between sexes, although, if the reverse spell effects were as bad as what we had gone through, I did not look forward to it. "All right, let's leave things as they are. But we'd better try to get some clothing, women's clothing." Did I detect a fleeting pleased look in Jerome's eyes? At least I was reasonably familiar with women's clothing, having in the past helped a few young women to disrobe. I examined our uniforms. At least, to begin with, we might be able to use the shirts and underwear, but the other stuff wouldn't fit. Anyway, it would raise awkward questions, about two women wearing French soldiers' uniforms. "You know," said Jerome. There must be female servants' clothing around. Or even better, the old woman may have an extensive wardrobe somewhere. We can use her stuff. I expect she even has wigs. We can cover our short hair." I did not like the idea, but we had no choice. "All right, we had better look through her rooms. See if we can't find something to disguise ourselves with. I think we are about the same size as the Countess. She is a slim old lady, so some of her clothes should fit us." In fact there did not seem to be any of the female servants' clothing around, at all, but we soon found the old woman's rooms and rummaged through her closets and chests. In contrast to her servants, she was well supplied with clothes for all occasions. Everyday stuff, traveling costumes, even several ball gowns, although in an old fashioned style. We soon discovered a major problem. Although we both had women's figures, the dresses, in fact all of the clothing, were too narrow at the waist for us. The old lady must have been slimmer than we thought. I was trying to decide how to disguise the gaps with a cloak or shawl when Jerome threw something to me. "There is the solution," he said. I looked at his find in amazement. "A corset? Women's underwear? Are you out of your mind?" "No, not at all. With these we can draw in our waists, so that the dresses fit us, and anyway, that's what women wear. Even some men." "No, they don't. This style of corset is out of fashion now in France." "I didn't know you were such an expert on women's wear, Henri." I glared at him and he hastily went on. "Yes, the style has changed in France, but this is Austria, a bit behind the times. Anyway, it's either wearing a corset, or running around with your gown gaping open. That could lead to awkward questions." This was getting complicated. "All right, suppose I do wear all this stuff," I groaned "What then?" He did not reply. He seemed to be taken up entirely with the idea of wearing the women's clothing, holding a gown up to his body. He seemed caught in a reverie. "I think," I said eventually, "we would be best to get ourselves well disguised and then get in contact with the French army. Yes, I know it's dangerous, but we can give it out that we are two Frenchwomen, servants who had come to Austria with their mistress, a countess so-and so, a Royalist refugee at the time of the revolution. That will explain us being able to speak French." Jerome shook his head. No, we don't have the kind of clothing servants would wear, our ages are wrong. We are too young for that, but we could say that we came with our mother who was an emigree countess or some noblewoman. We can say that she died recently and we want to now return to our beloved France, our motherland, and live under its glorious emperor, with his brave soldiers, and so on." "Yes, If we pile on the compliments they should give us safe passage. They might even allow us to ride on some wagons going back to France. "And we could explain our short hair as our mother being old-fashioned and making us wear wigs. That would also explain the corsets." Jerome seemed obsessed with this idea of corsets. The plan was sounding better, but I still had doubts. "Let's hope we don't come in contact with any real Frenchwomen, because we don't know how to behave as women. And let's hope none of the soldiers gets the idea of making advances to us." Damnation, there was that funny expression in Jerome's eyes again. I had another idea. "No. I'll tell you. We can explain our short hair as the result of an assault by Austrian peasants. They cut off our hair as a reprisal for us being French. You know, supporting the emperor and his glorious achievements and so on. That will be an added reason for our desire to return to France. That we would not be safe here." The idea was sounding better and better, but I looked apprehensively at the pile of women's clothing Jerome had pulled out. I wondered how long I would have to put up with it. It might be months before we could get back to Bordeaux and safety. Jerome had now stripped and was pulling out some more of the old lady's underclothing. Sighing, I pulled off my shirt and underwear and was about to pull on a chemise, when Jerome stopped me. "Henri? I don't suppose you have noticed, but we really smell. If we are supposed to be ladies I think we would be cleaner. I think we'd better get washed." He was right. I pulled on one of the old woman's thicker dressing gowns and, holding it from my ankles to keep from tripping, I stumbled to the kitchen. The stove in the kitchen was out and the room was cold. I rummaged around to find something to light it, threw in some logs and put some water on the top in a large pail. There was only a tin bath to use, but fortunately the old lady had some soap in her room, scented even, and in an hour or two we were clean. It felt better, but I now had a damned flowery perfume smell. I felt like a pimp. I looked through the clothing and selected a plain chemise in a fine linen. I was steeling myself for the next step when Jerome held out a white corset, decorated with pink ribbons. "Why don't you use this. I will lace you up and you can do the same for me." "Get your stupid hands away from me," I snarled. I did not wanting his hands fiddling around me. I grabbed another corset, the plainest I could find, pulled it around me and tied the laces in a bow behind. It was awkward. Why did women use stupid styles like that? I selected a gown made of a strong plain fabric, but I groaned when I pulled it on. I could not get it closed. My waist was still too big, by about four centimeters. I would need to pull the corset in a bit more. I undid the laces and pulled them as much as I could, but there was no way I could pull the corset tight enough by myself. I would need Jerome's help. "All right," I sighed, I will need your help after all." I turned my back to him. So tighten the damned thing. About another five centimeters." I felt like a vise was closing around me. I could hardly breathe, and my chest, with tops of the two globular breasts, was now heaving up and down. This felt like a nightmare. At least the dress now closed on me, but there was still something wrong with it. It seemed to be all floppy. Jerome laughed at me, a stupid giggle in a high pitched woman's voice, "you forget you will need petticoats too," and he pointed out a mass of lacy material in one of the drawers. "Come on, lift up your skirt." Even that was awkward. I could hardly bend. Blushing, I let him help me get dressed. I felt foolish, a stranger in my own body. My waist now hard and rigid with the corset, yet my hips and waist were covered with lacy fabric. I shivered at the way the material rubbed against my legs. At least the dress now looked proper, and my disguise was better. "Now you can help me," said Jerome, and pulled a corset round himself. He had chosen one in white silk, embroidered with pink rosebuds. I saw he had picked out a chemise too, one with an embroidered lacy bodice. I was in a bad mood with the tightness of my own corset and I began to pull hard at the laces on his corset. Damnation. He seemed to be enjoying it, so to teach him a lesson I pulled the laces as hard as I could, until the corset was completely closed on him, and knotted them securely. Let him suffer for this mess. I had the satisfaction of hearing him gasp. I let him finish the rest of the dressing himself, while I got some food. I felt strange, even foolish, in the petticoats, swishing around my ankles, my gown rustling as I moved. I looked at our uniforms and the kit bags. We would be better to get rid of them, so I stuffed them in the big porcelain stove in the main living area. It was an effort, as I was gasping with the pressure of the corset and moving awkwardly. I wondered about our pistols. They were a French army issue, so there might be questions as to how we got them. On the other hand I might I need them for protection. I decided to keep them for the meantime, but get rid of them when we met up with French forces. I knew we had yet another problem. We had to travel to the South to meet French forces, yet our new attire was almost completely useless for walking along the muddy roads. Anyway we would have to move slowly. I could hardly breathe in the corset anyway. At this rate we would be months on the road, before we could get back home. I got out a pair of the old woman's shoes, but they were of fine leather. I really needed a pair of strong boots for the muddy roads. I cursed our carelessness in letting the servants escape with the horses. I heard a brief gasp from Jerome, but thought nothing of it until a minute later I heard another."Jerome? Are you all right?" I heard a noise behind me and turned to see a beautiful young woman grinning at me. Well, she would have been beautiful except for her partly swollen eye and some scratches. It was Jerome, now parading in a pale green silk gown and a white wig. He had even powdered his face and applied make up, female makeup. I caught sight of his ears. Oh God! There were even earrings in them! "What have you done? What's those in your ears?" "Earrings, of course. It's what women wear. I'm improving my disguise." "You mean you did it yourself?" "It wasn't so bad." I just had to grit my teeth. "Do you want me to do yours?" "Of course not," I howled. Then I caught sight of him primping in the mirror. "Having fun?" I growled. At least, I tried to growl, but it sounded different in my high pitched female voice. "Why are you dressed that way? Anybody would think you were enjoying it." He lifted up his skirt, petticoats and chemise to show fine silk stockings, even pink ribbons gartering them above the knees. "I'm getting used to my disguise," he said smugly. "So should you." "In my own good time." "Well, you should get to it as soon as you can. If we are going to be disguised as women we'd better be convincing ones." I can hardly breathe in this costume." "Do you think you'll breathe any better with a rope round your neck if they catch us?" Jerome seemed to be having less problems than I. I watched him as he moved around. He - or she? - was really pretty. So good I wanted to tear off his clothes and ... Hell. It was Jerome. What was I thinking of? In despair I remembered I had no male equipment anyway. Maybe I had died, and this was a version of Hell. He threw me a wig and I slipped it over my own hair. I looked at myself in the mirror. The disguise was really good. I would have no trouble passing myself off as a woman, at least in appearance. I really was very good looking, Jerome too. Maybe a bit too good looking. We would attract the attention of any men around, like flies to meat. You know," I said, "You'll need something less fancy if we are going to be moving over these roads. Instead, you look like you are planning to be the belle of the ball, in that fancy clothing. Another thing. How do you suppose we'll learn women's mannerisms? If we are around men we may need to..." I stopped abruptly. I needed learn how to act like a woman but not so much I would be fighting off men. Jerome did not notice."I've been watching women quite a bit. The first things would be to walk and sit gracefully, act shy, eat daintily, smile a lot if there are men around. Yes, I know I should get some plainer clothes, but I'm having some fun." If this was his idea of fun I wondered what his idea of a miserable time would be. With the way the rigid corset was already holding me, digging in my hips there was no way I could slouch. There was no way I could relax. "Now Henri, let me see your hands," he said. I held out my hands. He examined them and made a face."Looks like I'd better clean and tidy your nails up. You look like a washerwoman with nails as broken as those. I'd better do your toenails as well." Numbly I watched as he clipped and filed my nails, but after a few minutes I have to admit they looked much neater. "All right, let's get something to eat, then we should get some things packed. We have to try to get to the French forces tomorrow or the day after. Maybe we should make it the day after, give your eye time to lose its swelling. Anyhow, be thinking of ways to improve our story." I was only too glad, when we settled down to bed, to get all the female clothes off, especially that corset. Unfortunately I also began to hurt when I took it off but I knew that was a normal effect. Of course, I now had to work at the knots in Jerome's corset laces that I had tied so tightly. I kept the chemise on, but to my disgust, Jerome rummaged among the old lady's clothes and pulled out a long nightdress trimmed in lace. We awoke early the next morning, and cursing, I relieved myself in one of the chamber pots. I felt vulnerable sitting down, my chemise up around my backside. I fixed us something to eat, then, while I was fuming inwardly, we helped each other dress again in all the women's stuff. "I wonder where that book came from?" said Jerome. "The old woman said something about her son, and a gypsy. She seemed desperate to hold on to the book. I wonder if her son got changed." "If so, why didn't he change back?" I shrugged. "Maybe he was happy being a toad, or a dragon, or a woman, whatever he changed into. Anyway, who cares? We have enough of our own problems." We were just about to start getting some stuff together, when we heard a noise in the courtyard. Jerome looked out. He gasped. "It's French soldiers. Maybe they are looking for us." I watched them from behind the curtain. They had some carts with food on them. "Maybe they are, but remember, we are well disguised. You know, I think these are only a squad of foragers. We don't know how long we were unconscious. Maybe the foragers have reached out as far as this from the French army quarters. This may be good for us. Now we may not have to go out looking for them." I heard a pounding at the front door. Jerome and I looked at each other. We both swallowed nervously. Now was the time to begin our masquerade. I took a deep breath and went down to open the door. Jerome was right behind me." Be careful," I said. "Remember. we are supposed to be two young Frenchwomen." A captain was standing at the door. After a start of surprise, he gave us an appreciative stare. I drew my shawl around my shoulders, and he gave a contemptuous bow. "Ladies," he said, in what even I knew was clumsy German, I regret, but by the order of the Emperor Napoleon, we will have to search your house for material we can requisition for the army of France." I could see by their uniforms they were soldiers from our own regiment. In fact I thought the captain looked slightly familiar, but I did not recognize any of the others. I pretended to be overjoyed. In truth, I was rather pleased. If we played our cards right we might be able to persuade them to give us transportation. "You are French soldiers? God be praised. Our prayers are answered." I said in a fluttery female voice, using the most proper French I could, to disguise my provincial accent. I had the satisfaction of seeing him recoil in surprise. In fact, I thought we did a marvelous acting job. It did not take us long to convince them that we were two French girls who had been marooned in Austria since their emigree mother's death, and that we were overjoyed to be rescued. Jerome was having a good time, fluttering his eyelashes at the soldiers, all and sundry. At least his eye was less swollen now, but the captain noticed it. "Mademoiselle? I notice your eye is swollen. What happened?" "Ah" said Jerome, it was one of our Austrian servants. They had run off, but they cut our hair short, and one assaulted me first. The uncivilized brute!" He made a small face at me. I began to get uneasy when I saw the captain eyeing Jerome's bosom heaving above his dress and I drew my own shawl closer. I grandly waved my arm at the house, and curtsied, like a woman, I hoped. "Please, brave soldiers, take all you want, all you need for France. We have no further need of it. We wish to go back to our beloved France. But, I wonder, Captain, can you advise us how we could do so?" He thought for a minute. "Ladies, we would be glad to escort you to our main camp. Then we can enquire if there are any transports that can carry you back to France. Do you know where would you like to go?" This was going better than I could have hoped. "Ah. I do not know. But my mother came from Bordeaux. It may be that we can find some relatives there." "But, Mademoiselle, it is mademoiselle? Can I enquire as to your names? I am Pierre Barchet, Captain." Again I curtsied to him. Jerome tried the same, but he got his feet tangled in his petticoats and fell over. While the captain chivalrously helped him up, I had time to think. I remembered my mother's name and did a quick adaptation. "I am Claudine, Claudine de Beziers. This is my sister Amelie." I was rewarded by a small bow from the captain. Jerome rolled his eyes. We encouraged the troops to search and take all they wanted from the house and its surrounds. I got a bit nervous when I saw some of them searching in the kitchen. I hoped all of our uniforms had burned away completely in the stove. Jerome and I got some stuff together, packing a trunk with some more of the old lady's clothes, even some of her cosmetics and toilet articles. I had hoped to use a small trunk, but it was surprising how bulky the clothing was. It did not help that Jerome was like a child in a toy shop. I thought he would never finish his selection of the old woman's gowns and underwear, and we had to use a larger trunk than I had intended. At least it looked as if we would not now need to carry it ourselves. I hid our pistols and gold at the bottom, next to the book. We would need it for changing back. The soldiers had even had picked up some horses which were harnessed to a small wagon from the stable. It was not a carriage, but we were able to ride in relative comfort to the regiment's quarters. Of course, I had a problem when I tried to climb up on the wagon. My tight corset and bulky clothing hindered my movement. A soldier saw my difficulties, and swung me up easily, giving me a slight tickle as he did so and patting my rear. I glared at him, but when he tried it with Jerome he was rewarded by a giggle. I had another bad moment when I saw our own captain taking a good look at us as we arrived, but it was normal curiosity, and he did not recognize us. I had put on a wig and dusted my face with some powder, and applied other cosmetics, just in case. As we dismounted from the wagon, we came in for a bit of attention from all of the soldiers in the camp. In fact they seemed to be eyeing us in a way that was, well, hardly consistent with our supposed station as noble women. I was worried when the captain led us directly to the colonel, but I gave him the same story, and he seemed to swallow it. Unfortunately, he even began writing details of our story down in a notebook. I did not want anything that could be checked. "Please Colonel, my sister and I would like to return to France." I recounted the supposed story of the assaults on us leading to our short hair and Jerome's swollen eye. The colonel was horrified so I added. Do you think it would be possible for us to go back, perhaps on some transportation returning to France for supplies?" "Why certainly, Ladies. In fact, we have a party returning to France in a week with some of our wounded. You can go with them." He finished writing in his notebook and pulled out some more paper from a small camp desk. He wrote something on it, signing it with a great flourish, and held it out to me. "Here ladies. I have written a letter for you. If you are questioned by any of the authorities along the way to France, present this to them. It will give you safe conduct." "But, for the next few days, ladies, perhaps you will do me the honor of dining with me and some other officers each night. Ah, it will be so wonderful to have beautiful French ladies at my dinner table. One gets lonely for female company." I began to have a horrible feeling and I actually flushed, but the brigadier must have thought it was female embarrassment, and he beamed in a positively superior way. I remembered to curtsy slightly. That idiot Jerome was even smiling at him and fluttering his eyelashes again. I was relieved when we were given separate quarters in a requisitioned farmhouse. Not that I minded sleeping in a tent, or at a pinch, outside, but we were hardly dressed for it, and we would have been in sight of all the men. The colonel ordered a couple of soldiers to carry our trunk into our assigned room and even said he would arrange some help from an Austrian woman for doing any of our laundry. We sat down on the bed in our room, looked at each other, and began to laugh. Things were actually going pretty well, and Jerome's eyes were shining in excitement. "Well, if we're are invited for dinner, we should at least dress up for the colonel." Jerome looked positively delighted, and I was beginning to have fun, putting it over all of these officers, the same swine that had ordered us around so much when we were under their command. We unpacked the trunk and looked for the countess' best clothes. I decided on a rich silk gown, in gold and red. Jerome chose one in dark blue. We helped each other undress and wash, then once again with the corsets and the rest of our dressing. The red and gold gown must have been a special, either that or the countess had used it when she was younger as it was tighter than the one I had been wearing, so I had to get Jerome to lace me tighter still."You'd better show me some make-up too," I sighed. You seem to have got the hang of it. We'd better not disappoint the colonel." Jerome grinned at me."Do you want me to pierce your ears too? I brought several sets of earrings." "No!" I howled, "leave my ears alone." The colonel had sent his aide for us, and when we were ushered into the dining room we were greeted with looks of pleasure and astonishment by the officers. It was disconcerting to be surrounded by all the attention. I had a glass of wine pushed in my hand, but with toasts to France, and Napoleon it was soon empty, then refilled. Jerome and I had lost some height in our transformation, and it seemed strange to be looking up at all these men. They, of course were looking down at us, not always to our faces. In fact, most were transfixed by our chests, and I realized they could now look down into my cleavage. I could do nothing about it, as I had left my wrap in our room. When dinner was called, I stood at the table, waiting for the colonel to sit, but then I realized they were all waiting for Jerome and me to sit first. The colonel himself pulled a chair out for me next to his, beckoning graciously to it then to my shock, I saw our former captain seated next to Jerome. It did not take long for the conversation to get to us, as the supposed sisters, Claudine and Amelie de Beziers. I had a nasty fright when our former captain asked. "Ladies, I am confused. Our information was that the country house we found you in was owned by a Countess von Steiffen, yet your name is de Beziers." "Ah!" I said, fluttering my eyelashes, to match my thumping heart. Yes, You are right. Our mother was widowed soon after her arrival in Austria, but then she married the Count von Steiffen. He also died after several years. Our mother changed her name, but of course my sister and I kept our French names. We were proud to do so." At this there was another rambunctious round of toasts to the glory of France, and the subject seemed to be forgotten. Next, the conversation got to our future plans when we arrived in France. "Perhaps, ladies," asked the colonel, "I will contact the Bordeaux authorities, and they can help you search for any relatives?" I shook my head. "You are very kind, but I insist. I do not want to put anyone to any trouble. You will have done more than enough, to help us back to our beloved France." I certainly did not want any authorities snooping around us. I just wanted to quietly disappear into the underworld and use the reverse spell. There were no de Beziers in Bordeaux that I knew of, and my real relatives were only too well known to the authorities. I tried to shift the conversation to something I thought the officers would be interested in. "But, gentlemen, we are very pleased and proud of the emperor. What do you think will be his future plans?" After all, this was the kind of thing the ordinary soldiers discussed all the time. I saw the captain frowning. Then I understood he was suspicious of us. He might even think we were Austrian spies. I was saved when the colonel jovially dismissed our question as 'something not suitable for ladies'. I smiled as prettily as I could and tried to talk about the culture of France, how much my sister and I were looking forward to it. Not that Jerome or I had ever participated much in it before we were conscripted. We were too busy scratching a living at menial work or petty theft. The meal was good, with at least five courses. These officers ate much better than the foot soldiers, but now I could not eat as much as I would have wanted. Jerome had laced the damned corset too tight. With more alcohol flowing the atmosphere got easier, but I felt myself getting tipsy after only three glasses of wine, and then the group started on brandy. I motioned to Jerome with my eyes and we excused ourselves, pretending the call of nature. "We'd better be careful. The alcohol seems to be going to my head more. Maybe it is the same with you. So be careful what you say." "Maybe we should make excuses and get out of here." "No, I think we have to stay around for a bit. Remember, we have to make a good impression, get their sympathy, if we are to get transportation back to France." I took a deep breath, well, as deep as my corset would allow, fixed a smile on my face, and we rejoined the officers. I had barely settled back in my seat beside the colonel when I was offered a glass of brandy. It was good stuff, but I knew I hardly dared take more than a sip. I did not want to get drunk in case I let something slip, and besides, I did not like the hungry expression in the eyes of some of the officers. The colonel was getting more jovial, then at one point I felt his hand on my leg, under the table, squeezing my thigh, even through the masses of petticoats. I froze. I did not want amorous attentions from him, or any man, I desperately tried to think how a real woman would behave. I thought women of our supposed class would act offended but I had to keep on his good side until we were safely away on transportation back to France. Gently I removed his hand. "Ah, Colonel, you are very bold, No?" I gave him what I hoped was a sweet smile. "This is not the time." If I had my way it would never be the time. In fact I was saved by the entrance of two fiddlers. The colonel rose, giving my hand a squeeze. He beamed at us. "I thought in honor of the two beautiful ladies we have with us tonight, we could have some music, and a dance. Soldiers like us are often deprived of the company of beautiful women. Perhaps the ladies would like to participate in some dancing?" "Merde," I thought. "Now I may have to dance with the old goat. What on earth kind of dances do they want to do?" I tried to get out of it, muttering that we had not been given the opportunity to learn dancing, but it was no use. Actually I recognized the music as a waltz. Then I groaned, the colonel grabbed my right hand in his left, put his arm around my waist pulled me onto the floor and began swinging me about, in time to the music, he thought. In actuality he was trampling all over my toes. I was a good dancer, but it took me a minute or two to get the hang of dancing as a woman and let him lead. It did not help that his right hand was clasped around my waist, squeezing me every few seconds. I was almost grateful for the protection of the stiff corset. Otherwise, the long skirts and masses of petticoats did not help my own footwork. Fortunately his clumsiness disguised my own difficulties. In a few minutes the colonel was getting out of breath but I found Jerome and I were then expected to dance with all the officers. No one thought to ask if we were out of breath. I think we did manage satisfactorily, but I was finally exhausted, and my waist was hurting. I was sure the corset bones were digging into me. Of course, my bosom was heaving in my low neckline, over the top of the iron grasp of the corset. For some reason Jerome seemed to be enjoying it. He even seemed to be exaggerating his breathing. The party broke up around midnight, and we were escorted to our room by several of the officers. In response to their bows, we curtsied to them, giving them another view of our cleavage, but that was all they were getting. I resolved it would be a cold day in Hell before I let myself endure another dance. "God," I said, as Jerome untied my corset laces, "I can't take much more of this. They are like a bunch of curs round a bitch in heat." I could not face the rest of the week if it was going to be like this, and I took to my bed, pretending I was indisposed. It meant I had to stay in my room, but it kept me out of reach of the soldiers, and I only needed to wear a nightgown with a robe on the top, and not have to suffer the damned corset. I had my meals brought to my room. Jerome on the other hand, seemed to relish dressing up and going out to dinner each evening. "The colonel and his staff are very concerned about you," said Jerome one evening. They wonder if they should summon a doctor." I shook my head. "Tell them I have a female indisposition. You know, monthly bleeding. That may keep the bunch of lechers off me for a day or two." Several evenings later, as I was dozing in bed, I was awakened by a gasp and then a rhythmic noise. As my mind cleared I began to recognize it as somewhat familiar sounds, a couple indulging in an age-old activity. The thumping, groaning and gasping were getting louder and in exasperation I climbed out of bed, put on a robe and opened the door to give the participants a piece of my mind. If I got them in a compromising position, that was their responsibility. I wanted to get some sleep. When I yelled. "I am trying to sleep", the bare male buttocks, with female feet wrapped around them, froze in mid action. The upper person turned to face me. It was one of the officers. We glared at each other, then I almost collapsed in shock when Jerome's face peeked out from under. I looked at them in horror, then in confusion retreated to my own bed. Unfortunately the noise started again, and even with my head under the pillows I heard the renewed gasps as the deed was consummated. It was an hour or so before Jerome came to bed. "Henri," he said. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to disturb you." What on earth were you doing?" I hissed. "Are you out of your mind? How can you do that? You're not a woman." Am I not, Henri? Maybe I'm not out of my mind. Rather, my mind has found its proper body. Perhaps you have not realized it. Neither had I until a day or so ago, but I have never been attracted to women. In fact I was attracted to men. I tried to suppress it, but when we were changed, and I was given the opportunity to be a woman, it was with a wonderful sense of discovery, relief. It seems so natural to me. This is one of the best things that ever happened to me. And it's so nice to have the attention of all of these young officers." I shook my head. I did not want to hear him. This was awful. Jerome was going on. I like dancing with men. I like their arms around me. I like it when they hold me close, embrace me. When Jean-Marie, he's one of the officers - escorted me over here it was so natural to thank him with a kiss, and then events just seemed to go from there. And I will have you know," he said defiantly, that when he made love to me it was one of the most wonderful experiences I have ever had." I sank down, holding my head in my hands. This was worse and worse. Here we were, half the width of Europe from home, stuck in female bodies, using female clothes, a target of all these groping men and I find my companion likes it. That was all I needed, for Jerome to be a female nymphomaniac. I wondered if he would be a woman internally too. God, then he could even get pregnant. What a mess it would be then. I felt like crying. I wanted someone to hold me and comfort me. Then I caught myself. What was I thinking of? I finished two bottles of wine by myself that night. We were due to leave the next day. In the circumstances I should have been glad to get away from all these lechers, but with my hangover I was past caring. When we said goodbye to the colonel I had to steel myself for the affectionate embrace he gave me, one of his hands even straying down to my buttocks. Yah! Even a pinch! "Ah, Mademoiselle Claudine. You are still indisposed. But it is nice to see you again." I gave him a feeble smile. Then it seemed, we were expected to embrace all the lovesick officers of the regiment, even that swine of a captain of ours. At least we would soon be rid of them, I thought, but I groaned when I saw the officer, the one whose rear I had seen the previous night, sitting on one the lead wagons. Now I would have both of the randy pair all the way to France. He gave me a scowl, but blew a kiss to Jerome. The fool blew one back and even blushed. Our route first took us into the territory of the Rhine Confederation, who were sympathetic to the French, and we were able to travel a good distance each day. However, the journey was long, and the jolting of the wagon was uncomfortable on my corseted body. At least I was better off than the poor devils, the wounded that we were taking back to France. Most were amputees, missing arms or legs. One, only a little older, no more than a boy, had part of his jaw shot away. A carriage would have been much better, but at least we had the protection of the army. I knew I would have to put up with the arrangements for about three weeks at least. Jean-Marie gallantly arranged for us to stay at inns most nights, so we had comfortable beds, and Jerome and I could help each other with dressing and undressing each day. I looked forward to when I would no longer have to do it. However, as the days went on and Jerome came to bed after trysts with the captain, his corset was usually already unlaced. Eventually they gave up the pretense and slept together in a separate inn room. Apart from that, our journey was fairly uneventful until we had crossed the Rhine back into France. The journey had been long and boring. I was getting heartily tired of sitting in the wagon in the uncomfortable women's clothing. I had thought I was getting used to it, but now I felt uncomfortable and irritable. My back ached, and my stomach was now acting up. Jerome too, seemed to be more irritable than usual. When we stopped that night and I stumbled out of the carriage, Amelie caught my arm. Yes, Amelie, as Jerome now wanted to be called. He now also insisted on calling me Claudine. "Claudine," he said. "You are bleeding." The rear of my dress, where I had been sitting, was stained with red spots of