"You see, gracious baroness," continued the colonel, "that I have accomplished what I determined I would do—made quite a man of the little fellow."
He snapped his whip again, and called sharply:
"Now let the militiaman show us what he does when he is in an ill humor."
The bagpipe struck up a different air. The dwarf muttered something unintelligible into his mustache, and grimaced hideously. Then he took from his tobacco-pouch flint, tinder, and steel, and struck fire in the proper manner; he thrust the burning tinder into his pipe, and pressed it down with his finger.
Tremendous applause rewarded this exhibition.
"Do you see, gracious baroness, what a complete man he is become? He can even strike fire and light a pipe!"
By this time the gnome began to understand that his antics amused the audience, and he, too, enjoyed them. For the first time an emotion was expressed on his stolid countenance; but it was not an agreeable transformation. The corners of his mouth widened until they reached his ears, which stood still farther out from his head; he closed one eye, and opened the other to its farthest extent; and pressing the stem of his pipe more firmly between his teeth, he blew the smoke and fire from the bowl like a miniature volcano. The thicker the smoke and sparks came from the pipe, the more furious became the strange creature's glee, while the entire company shouted and clasped their hands. Even the colonel himself was amazed at the performance of his dull pupil.
"Why have we not a Hogarth among us to perpetuate this caricature?" he exclaimed delightedly.
"Horrible! I cannot bear to look at him," said the baroness, holding her fan in front of her face. "Pray take him away, Herr Colonel—take him away."
"Presently. Ho, there, my little man! What does the militiaman do when he sees the enemy?"