The soldiers were not yet satisfied; they would have liked to push their investigations still further, but the sergeant thought it more prudent to bring their scientific curiosity to an end. Courte-Joie had now become thoughtful, and his expression was noticed by the soldiers.
"Ah, ça!" said the corporal; "here you are, eating and drinking on the earnings of your comrade. That's not fair; it seems to me you might give us a song, if only to pay your scot."
"Unquestionably," said the sergeant.
"Yes, yes, a song!" cried the soldiers, "and then the affair will be complete."
"Hum!" muttered Courte-Joie. "I know some songs, of course I do."
"All right then, sing away!"
"But my songs mayn't be to your liking."
"Never mind,--so long as it isn't a fugue for the devil's funeral, anything will be fun to us; we are not hard to please at Saint-Colombin."
"Yes," said Courte-Joie, "I can see that; you are horribly bored."
"Monstrously," said the sergeant.