"Well, well," said Wenzinger, half in jest and half in anger; "it is a fine thing, no doubt, to have soldiers who will do everything but obey your orders!"
Not another word did he speak at table, but he drank all the more.
In the midst of these table-joys, John Uzdi, the commander of the skirmishers, stepped into the Prince's pavilion with a terrified countenance, and scarce able to speak for excitement.
"Your Highness! I see great clouds of dust approaching from the direction of Segesvar!"
The Prince turned his head towards the messenger, and said with comic phlegm—
"If it gives you any satisfaction to stare at your clouds of dust, pray go on looking at them as long as you please!"
But Wenzinger sprang from his seat.
"I should like to have a look at them myself," cried he, hastily ordering his heavy charger to be saddled; "possibly the enemy has come out to entice us nearer."
The others did not trouble themselves about the matter, but continued to make merry.
In a few minutes, however, back came Wenzinger, unable to conceal the secret joy which a professional soldier always feels when his plan is about to succeed.