"Nothing."
The captain seated himself heavily at the table and the lieutenant was at liberty to resume his chair.
"And that frightful bombardment all last night, Eberstein, what do you make of it?" he asked as he lit himself a cigarette.
The mouth under the fair moustache of the young lieutenant twisted into a contemptuous smile.
"Bah! the Englanders want to make us nervous or to persuade themselves that their wonderful 'great push' is not played out."
The captain blew out a long puff of smoke and nodded his head in dubious thought.
"And you think it is?"
Von Waldhofer, a man of somewhat deliberate mental processes, was never unwilling to discuss general topics with his subordinate. Eberstein's cheering, if crude, optimism was a welcome stimulus to him.
"Of course it is," said the lieutenant. "Since the first rush they have been practically fought to a standstill. Here it is two and a half months since the offensive began and where are they? Now in one week on the Donajetz we——"
"Yes, I know, Eberstein," his superior interrupted him. "You did wonders. But it is the Somme and not the Donajetz that interests us now." He removed his helmet and passed his hand wearily over a high semi-bald brow. "I wish I could be as certain as you. These Englanders do not know when they are beaten——" He stopped, then broke out again with the over-emphasis of a man wearied with long brooding over a problem. "The colonel was so positive last night! And he had just come from the General Staff. At dawn, he said, we might expect it. I can't make it out. All night that frightful bombardment, obviously preparation. Then this quiet! I feel something is coming." He shook his head. "We are much too near in this position."