For just a moment their sudden appearance caused excitement and confusion among the soldiers, who must have imagined that this was a surprise attack. But then some of the men, who had seen them talking with Major Kellner earlier in the day, recognized them and a shout of laughter went up.
"It is only those boys!" cried one soldier. "Here, you young ones, you must stay to supper, now that you have come!"
He seized Paul and forced him into a chair, while another did as much for Arthur.
"Come, landlord, your best for our guests!" cried half a dozen of the soldiers.
Marcel, the landlord, who evidently knew only too well what his cellar contained beside wine and beer, was staring at them with a white, panic-stricken gaze. But he turned to obey, none the less; he was in deadly fear, it was plain, of the boyish soldiers. They might be willing to jest now, but he knew that they were the same men who fought like devils, and if reports were true (which they were not!) cut off the hands of women and children.
He brought food, and one of the soldiers handed Paul a glass of wine.
"Now, then!" cried the German. "You shall drink a toast to the good Kaiser Wilhelm, who is now King of Belgium as well as of Prussia, and who will eat the first course of his Christmas dinner in Paris and fly to London in a Zeppelin for the second! Skoal!"
"Ja! Ja wohl! A toast to the Kaiser by the young Belgian!" cried some of the others.
Paul got up, the glass held firmly in his hand. His cheeks were blazing.
"I will give you a toast!" he cried. "To Kaiser Wilhelm! May he eat his Christmas dinner in Saint Helena, with the ghost of Napoleon to keep him company! And may King Albert and King George and the Czar and the president of France enjoy a dinner that shall be served to them in the palace of Potsdam!"