“Fire at the first one who dares to touch another piece of wood,” commanded the officer. But the wanton soldiers paid no attention to this order; they regarded it as an empty threat.
“Fire,” cried one, laughing, “fire is just what we want—without fire, no noodles; and to make fire we must have wood.”
“Whew! I have a big splinter in my finger,” cried another soldier, who was on the roof, and had just broken off a plank; “I must draw it out and put it back, mustn’t I, lieutenant?”
At this question the gay group broke into a loud laugh; but it was interrupted by the angry words of the officer.
Suddenly a mild voice asked: “What is the matter?” At the first sound of this voice the soldiers seemed dismayed; they stopped their work, and their merry faces became earnest and thoughtful. Stiff and motionless they remained on the roof awaiting their punishment; they knew that voice only too well, they had heard it in the thunder of battle. The king repeated his question. The officer approached him.
“Sire, these dragoons are tearing the roof from your majesty’s quarters, all my threats are useless; therefore I ordered the sentinels forward.”
“What do you want with the sentinels?” asked the king.
“To fire amongst them, if they do not desist.”
“Have you tried kindness?” said the king, sternly; “do you think, on the day before a battle, I have soldiers to spare, and you may shoot them down because of a piece of wood?”
The officer murmured a few confused words; but the king paid no attention to him; he looked up at the soldiers sitting stiff and motionless upon the roof.