"You know," I went on, "the corporal will put the affair in as bad a light as possible for me, because by doing so he will have the adjutant as his good friend; and, besides, I have been up before the commandant so often of late and have been reduced in rank so much that he will consider me a soldier of very bad character and will punish me as such. In any case you are a soldier of the first class, and at most he can only take away your chevron."
"That is true, my comrade; I am very sorry, that cursed brandy made a fool of me."
"Well, it can't be helped now," I said; "I bear no malice."
"Thanks, my friend, thanks," the Austrian replied; "but Mademoiselle Julie, she will never forgive me."
"So much the better," I told him; "then you will get no more brandy, and so will keep out of prison." He sighed heavily and said no more: I could see that he was really sorry at last.
At the usual hour all the prisoners made their appearance before the commandant. The Austrian and I were the last to be tried, and we could see that our judge was in bad humour that morning and unsparing of abuse and punishment alike. When our turn came we presented ourselves before him, bareheaded, without belts, and guarded by an armed escort. When the charge had been read out the corporal and some men gave evidence in support of it, and we were asked, the Austrian first, as he was a soldier of the first class, what we had to say in reply. Neither could say anything, and truly, unless we had a very good defence indeed, it was best to say nothing, for the commandant, a good man in many ways, was very short-tempered, and was evidently in a rage that morning. The Austrian was condemned to lose his chevron, and then the officer turned to deal with me.
"You have been here often of late," he said, very mildly to all appearance, but I knew what that sudden mildness meant. I said nothing.
"Can you not speak?" he almost roared.
"Yes, sir."
"You have been here often, very often—too often; is it not so?"