"But what about all the Germans in the Legion, in that case?" enquired Rupert.
"Oh, they wouldn't be sent," was the reply. "They'd all go to the Southern Stations, and the Moroccan border, or to Madagascar and Tonkin. Of course, the Alsatians and Lorraines would jump for joy at the chance."
Conversation at this point again became more and more difficult in the increasing din, which was not diminished as 'Erb awoke, yawned, stated that he had a mouth like the bottom of a parrot's cage, that he was thoroughly blighted, and indeed blasted, produced a large mouth-organ, and rendered "Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road," with enthusiastic soul and vigorous lungs.
Roused to a pinnacle of joyous enthusiasm and yearning for emulation, not only the little Parisian, but the whole party of Frenchmen leapt upon their table with wild whoops, and commenced to dance, some the carmagnole, some the can-can, some the cake-walk, and others the bamboula, the chachuqua, or the "singe-sur-poele." Glasses and bottles crashed to the ground, and Legionaries with them. A form broke.
Above the stamping, howling, smashing, and crashing, Madame's shrill screams rang clear, as she mingled imprecations and commands with lamentations that Luigi Rivoli had departed. Pandemonium increased to "tohuwabohu." Louder wailed the mouth-organ, louder bawled the Frenchmen, louder screamed Madame, loudest of all shrilled the "Lights Out" bugle in the barrack-square--and peace reigned. In a minute the room was empty, silent and dark, as the clock struck nine.
§2
"You'll be awakened by yells of 'Au jus' from the garde-chambre at about five to-morrow," said John Pull to Rupert as they undressed. "As soon as you have swallowed the coffee he'll pour into your mug from his jug, hop out and sweep under your bed. The room-orderly has got to sweep out the room and be on parade as soon as the rest, and it's impossible unless everybody sweeps under his own bed and leaves the orderly to do the rest."
"What about food?" asked the other, who had the healthy appetite of his years and health.
"Oh--plain and sufficient," was the answer. "Good soup and bread; hard biscuit twice a week; and wine every other day--monotonous of course. Meals at eleven o'clock and five o'clock only.... By the way unless your feet are fairly tough, you'd better wear chaussettes russes until they harden--strips of greasy linen bound round, you know. The skin will soon toughen if you pour bapédi, or any other strong spirit into your boots, and you can tallow your feet before a long march. Having no socks will seem funny at first, but in time you come to hate the idea of them. Much less cleanly really, and the cause of all blisters."
Rupert looked doubtful, and thought of his silk-sock bills. Even as a trooper he had always kept one silk pair to put on after the bath which followed a long march. (There are few things so refreshing as the vigorous brushing of one's hair and the putting of silk socks on to bathed feet after a heavy day.)