For a long time the officer looked at the sodden turf, and at the
swollen Andelle beyond it, which was overflowing its banks, and

he was drumming a waltz from the Rhine on the window-panes, with
his fingers, when a noise made him turn round; it was his second

in command, Captain Baron von Kelweinstein.
The major was a giant, with broad shoulders, and a long, fair

beard, which hung like a cloth on to his chest. His whole, solemn
person suggested the idea of a military peacock, a peacock who

was carrying his tail spread out on to his breast. He had cold,
gentle, blue eyes, and the scar from a sword-cut, which he had

received in the war with Austria; he was said to be an honorable
man, as well as a brave officer.

The captain, a short, red-faced man, who was tightly girthed in
at the waist, had his red hair cropped quite close to his head,

and in certain lights almost looked as if he had been rubbed over
with phosphorus. He had lost two front teeth one night, though he

could not quite remember how. This defect made him speak so that
he could not always be understood, and he had a bald patch on the

top of his head, which made him look rather like a monk, with a
fringe of curly, bright, golden hair round the circle of bare

skin.
The commandant shook hands with him, and drank his cup of coffee

(the sixth that morning) at a draught, while he listened to his
subordinate's report of what had occurred; and then they both

went to the window, and declared that it was a very unpleasant
outlook. The major, who was a quiet man, with a wife at home,

could accommodate himself to everything; but the captain, who was
rather fast, being in the habit of frequenting low resorts, and

much given to women, was mad at having been shut up for three
months in the compulsory chastity of that wretched hole.

There was a knock at the door, and when the commandant said,
"Come in," one of their automatic soldiers appeared, and by his

mere presence announced that breakfast was ready. In the dining-
room, they met three other officers of lower rank: a lieutenant,

Otto von Grossling, and two sub-lieutenants, Fritz Scheunebarg,
and Count von Eyrick a very short, fair-haired man, who was proud

and brutal toward men, harsh toward prisoners, and very violent.
Since he had been in France, his comrades had called him nothing

but "Mademoiselle Fifi." They had given him that nickname on
account of his dandified style and small waist, which looked as

if he wore stays, from his pale face, on which his budding
mustache scarcely showed, and on account of the habit he had

acquired of employing the French expression, fi, fi donc, which
he pronounced with a slight whistle, when he wished to express

his sovereigncontempt for persons or things.
The dining-room of the chateau was a magnificent long room, whose

fine old mirrors, now cracked by pistol bullets, and Flemish
tapestry, now cut to ribbons and hanging in rags in places, from

sword-cuts, told too well what Mademoiselle Fifi's occupation was
during his spare time.

There were three family portraits on the walls; a steel-clad
knight, a cardinal, and a judge, who were all smoking long

porcelain pipes, which had been inserted into holes in the
canvas, while a lady in a long, pointed waist proudly exhibited

an enormous pair of mustaches, drawn with a piece of charcoal.
The officers ate their breakfast almost in silence in that

mutilated room, which looked dull in the rain, and melancholy
under its vanquished appearance, although its old, oak floor had

become as solid as the stone floor of a public-house.
When they had finished eating, and were smoking and drinking,

they began, as usual, to talk about the dull life they were
leading. The bottles of brandy and of liquors passed from hand to

hand, and all sat back in their chairs, takingrepeated sips from
their glasses, and scarcely removing the long, bent stems, which

terminated in china bowls painted in a manner to delight a
Hottentot, from their mouths.

As soon as their glasses were empty, they filled them again, with
a gesture of resigned weariness, but Mademoiselle Fifi emptied

his every minute, and a soldier immediately gave him another.
They were enveloped in a cloud of strong tobacco smoke; they

seemed to be sunk in a state of drowsy, stupid intoxication, in
that dull state of drunkenness of men who have nothing to do,

when suddenly, the baron sat up, and said: "By heavens! This
cannot go on; we must think of something to do." And on hearing

this, Lieutenant Otto and Sub-lieutenant Fritz, who pre-eminently
possessed the grave, heavy German countenance, said: "What,

Captain?"
He thought for a few moments, and then replied "What? Well, we

must get up some entertainment; if the commandant will allow us."
"What sort of an entertainment, captain?" the major asked, taking

his pipe out of his mouth.
"I will arrange all that, commandant," the baron said. "I will

send Le Devoir to Rouen, who will bring us some ladies. I know
where they can be found. We will have supper here, as all the

materials are at hand, and, at least, we shall have a jolly
evening."

Graf von Farlsberg shrugged his shoulders with a smile: "You must
surely be mad, my friend."

But all the other officers got up, surrounded their chief, and
said: "Let the captain have his own way, commandant; it is

terribly dull here."
And the major ended by yielding. "Very well," he replied, and the

baron immediately sent for Le Devoir.
The latter was an old corporal who had never been seen to smile,

but who carried out all the orders of his superiors to the
letter, no matter what they might be. He stood there, with an

impassive face while he received the baron's instructions, and
then went out; five minutes later a large wagon belonging to the

military train, covered with a miller's tilt, galloped off as
fast as four horses could take it, under the pouring rain, and

the officers all seemed to awaken from their lethargy, their
looks brightened, and they began to talk.

Although it was raining as hard as ever, the major declared that
it was not so dull, and Lieutenant von Grossling said with

conviction, that the sky was clearing up, while Mademoiselle Fifi
did not seem to be able to keep in his place. He got up, and sat

down again, and his bright eyes seemed to be looking for
something to destroy. Suddenly, looking at the lady with the

mustaches, the young fellow pulled out his revolver, and said:
"You shall not see it." And without leaving his seat he aimed,

and with two successive bullets cut out both the eyes of the
portrait.

"Let us make a mine!" he then exclaimed, and the conversation was
suddenly interrupted, as if they had found some fresh and

powerful subject of interest. The mine was his invention, his
method of destruction, and his favorite amusement.

When he left the chateau, the lawful owner, Count Fernand d'Amoys
d'Urville, had not had time to carry away or to hide anything,

except the plate, which had been stowed away in a hole made in
one of the walls, so that, as he was very rich and had good

taste, the large drawing-room, which opened into the dining-room,
had looked like the gallery in a museum, before his precipitate

flight.
Expensive oil-paintings, water-colors, and drawings hung upon the

walls, while on the tables, on the hangingshelves, and in
elegant glass cupboards, there were a thousand knickknacks: small

vases, statuettes, groups in Dresden china, grotesque Chinese
figures, old ivory, and Venetian glass, which filled the large

room with their precious and fantastical array.
Scarcely anything was left now; not that the things had been

stolen, for the major would not have allowed that, but