"Cheap indeed!" laughed the captain. "Between you and me, old Lumineau will have difficulty in turning our paper into good German money after the war ... Ist es aber entsetzlich--the noise of those swine."
The door had just opened to admit an old woman servant bearing coffee. From the adjoining room--the spacious farm kitchen given up to the captain's men--came a guttural roar. A hundred Germans feeding like one make a variety of unpleasant noises. It is not a mere coincidence, perhaps, that the Prussian loves a pig.
The officers took their cups of coffee, lit cigars, and lolled back in their chairs. The door closed behind the servant, reducing the sounds to a muffled hum, not loud enough to disturb the comfort of gentlemen. It was a pleasant hour. The day's work was done; they were three or four miles behind the firing line; the farm was a snug billet. They had been working late; supper had taken the place of dinner: when they had finished their cigars they might go with a good German conscience to bed.
Presently there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," said the captain drowsily.
A sergeant entered, and stiffly saluted.
"What do you want? It is late. I gave you your orders."
"Herr Captain, I ask pardon for disturbing you, but----"
"Waste no time, Ascher. Say what you have to say quickly, confound you!"
