"They did not. They were too busy tightening their belts and fixing their bayonets. But our generous fellows shouted for them. Then Prinz Halfstuff called out, 'The place of honour is for our Turkish brothers. Let them charge!' And all our men shouted again."
"And they charged?"
"They did—and were all gloriously blown up. A magnificent victory. The blowing up of the mines blocked all the ground, checked the Russians and enabled our men, by a prearranged rush, to advance backwards, taking up a new strategic—"
"Yes, yes," said Abdul, "I know—I have read of it, alas, only too often! And they are dead! Toomuch," he added quietly, drawing a little pouch from his girdle, "take this pouch of rubies and give them to the wives of the dead general of our division—one to each. He had, I think, but seventeen. His walk was quiet. Allah give him peace."
"Stop," said Von der Doppelbauch. "I will take the rubies. I myself will charge myself with the task and will myself see that I do it myself. Give me them."
"Be it so, Toomuch," assented the Sultan humbly. "Give them to him."
"And now," continued the Field-Marshal, "there is yet one other thing further still more." He drew a roll of paper from his pocket. "Toomuch," he said, "bring me yonder little table, with ink, quills and sand. I have here a manifesto for His Majesty to sign."
"No, no," cried Abdul in renewed alarm. "Not another manifesto. Not that! I signed one only last week."
"This is a new one," said the Field-Marshal, as he lifted the table that Toomuch had brought into place in front of the Sultan, and spread out the papers on it. "This is a better one. This is the best one yet."
"What does it say?" said Abdul, peering at it miserably, "I can't read it. It's not in Turkish."