"My worthy fellow, you have begun well; where did you learn to use your hands? No matter, the commandant will talk to you; he will settle all. But, my son, what was it about; did he insult you?"
"It was all the fault of the sergeant," I cried——
"Hold, hold!" interrupted the corporal; "take care, you are foolish to accuse your officer, and, besides, he was not present."
This gave me a hint.
"No; he was not here, and the corporals were not here either."
"Then it was my fault too?"
"Not yours so much as the sergeant's—you merely deserted your post—but he in addition to that abused the men so much before going away that their passion was aroused, and when men are angry they cannot help fighting."
"Yes, yes," said the corporal; "he did abuse people, there is no doubt that he was in bad humour, and would have abused his own brother at the time."
Little more was said, but the corporal was very thoughtful, and evidently was chewing a cud he did not like.
At the first opportunity, it was when we halted for a meal, the corporal took the sergeant aside, and a long conversation ensued. The upshot was that I was taken from my guards and brought by the corporal to where his comrade stood. The latter asked me to tell him the truth about the quarrel, and I spoke as he wished me to. I mentioned everything—the kindness of the first sergeant to me and his abuse of the others, his own harsh treatment of us from the beginning, his wrong and malicious descriptions to the woman—he winced when I mentioned her name—his fearful abuse of the men afterwards, and I took care to point out that I was the one who had been least hurt by his tongue, and I wound up by declaring that, if he and the corporals had not gone away, leaving us without any sous-officier in charge, the affair would not have taken place.