"It would be useless," replied the General, calmly, "for they would not give it."
"In that case," replied the major, "there is a spacious hall in the subterranean apartments of the bastions, where two hundred might dine commodiously."
"Indeed!" replied the General.
"Certainly; and plenty of room for a band of music besides."
"And cannot the bombs get in there?"
"O dear! no—not even the hundred and sixty pounders; the vaulted roof is strong an a rock, besides twelve feet of rock above. We can eat, drink, and give toasts," continued the major, "to our heart's content; the band may play, and the young folk dance, without endangering a hair of our heads!"
"Ah! a capital idea, truly! Perhaps you have already given fêtes there?"
"Oh, almost every day in winter; while the enemy were raising entrenchments over our heads, and trying their best to throw shells into the town, we were dancing quite snugly under the ramparts, and only laughing at them through the loopholes—ha, ha, ha!"
The major seemed to consider this an excellent joke, while the other dignitaries were cutting wry faces, recollecting that on such occasions but few, and those not the élite, remained without to protect the fort.
The General neither laughed nor looked displeased; he appeared satisfied with the major's plan, and dismissed the deputation, promising them that the next day's entertainment should be the most agreeable they had ever yet partaken of.