A general laugh greeted this old Headquarters' joke. The Prince said: "You can't call me a Tiger: I am not a visitor to the camp! But have you seen the real Tigers? Mon Dieu, do you remember we called the Duc d'Angouleme a Royal Tiger? But, my dear Charles - my dear Fremantle - the Duc de Berri! No, really, you would not believe! You must see him drilling his men to appreciate him. He flies into a passion and almost falls off his horse. But on my honour!"
"No, sir!" protested March.
"I swear it!" He accepted a glass of wine from Gordon, and perched himself on the arm of a chair. "Confusion to Boney!" he said, and drank. "And General Roder!" he resumed.
"Confusion to him too, sir?" murmured Gordon.
"No - yes! The worst of our Tigers! Have you met General Roder, Charles? He doesn't like the British, he doesn't like the Dutch, he doesn't like the Belgians, he doesn't like the French, he doesn't even like your humble servant. So here is confusion to General Roder!"
While this toast was being drunk, a pleasant-faced officer in Dutch uniform had peeped round the curtain and then come into the room. He was considerably older than any of the young men drinking confusion to the unfortunate Prussian Commissioner, but was hailed by them with cheerful affection.
"Hallo, Baron! Come in!" said Audley. "How are you?"
"Glass of wine with you, Baron?" Fremantle held up the decanter invitingly.
"Constant! We are drinking confusion to General von Roder. Join us immediately!" commanded his Royal master.
The Baron Constant de Rebecque glanced swiftly over his shoulder. He accepted a glass of wine, but said in very good English: "I beg of you, sir - ! Consider where you are, and who you are, and - very well, very well, here is confusion to him, then! And now will you recollect, sir, that this is a fete for their Majesties, and it expected that you will conduct yourself en prince! Your absence will be noticed: his Majesty will be displeased."