"And are we all to dine up there?" he asked, while his chin trembled visibly.
"Certainly, of course," replied the General; and perceiving it was one of those occasions in which the word follow must be substituted for on, he deliberately ascended the steps to the bastion, his guests reluctantly following, more like a troop of victims brought to unwilling martyrdom, than a festal procession approaching a banquet.
The municipal major not only relinquished his position close to the General's ear, but actually managed to fall behind—evidently evincing an inclination to make himself scarce when the opportunity should offer. The General's condescension, however, was so great as to seek him out, take his arm, and lead on to the ramparts, where he engaged him in close conversation.
"What a glorious view! See how the Danube washes the walls of the bastion! Mark the enemy's ramparts, where the great guns are pointed towards us—why, we can actually see into them! There stand the howitzers, and a bomb-mortar—remarkably clear atmosphere, major! See now, an artilleryman has just come out on the ramparts; one can distinguish his facings perfectly, even at that distance! Superb weather, major, is it not?"
It is quite certain that if the General had not forcibly retained his man, keeping him in conversation until they sat down to dinner, the worthy major would have slipped through his fingers like an eel; as it was, there was no other course for him but to resign himself to his fate, while he heartily wished that this transparent atmosphere would give place to so dense a fog, that they should not be able to distinguish each other across the table.
The guests had taken their places with no small uneasiness, each eyeing his neighbour's countenance, in the vain hope of discovering some degree of that confidence which he lacked himself—but resignation was the utmost that could be traced in any expression.
The General placed the major on his right hand: he was desirous of distinguishing him in his military dress.
Meanwhile, as the dishes were served and the wine circled, the spirits of the guests began to rise, and the clouds of uneasiness which had darkened each brow dissipated by degrees before the inward light which the good wine diffused. The conversation flowed more freely; some even ventured to jest, afterwards to laugh heartily.
The unhappy major alone did not seem to partake of the universal dissipation. He elbowed his loquacious neighbour with tears in his eyes, trod on the feet of his vis-à-vis under the table, accompanying these actions with an imploring gesture that they should speak and laugh less loudly; while he himself used his knife and fork with the utmost caution, looking every now and then over his shoulder at the cannon, howitzers, and artillerymen opposite—now spilling the soup down his neck, and now conveying to his ear the morsel intended for his mouth, or biting the empty fork from which the meat had fallen, while he sprinkled large quantities of cayenne and salt over the confections, and finally drank the vinegar intended for the salad, to the infinite amusement of the spectators. Even the General regarded his victim with inward satisfaction, though it was not his custom to express any visible emotion. He frequently recommended him one or other excellent wine; but the major would not be persuaded to drink anything but water, which he swallowed in large quantities, declaring that he was exceedingly warm—which was not improbable.
At the height of the entertainment, when the roses of good humour bloomed on every countenance, the major summoned all his resolution, and sidling close up to the commander, whispered in his ear: "It is very well that the besiegers are dining also at present, and therefore have not observed us, otherwise it might be no joke if they caught a glimpse of us."