“When I am grown up, my uncle, the Caporal, will give me a watch.”
“Yes; but your uncle’s little boy has one already; not so fine as this either. But then, he is younger than you.”
The child sighed.
“Well! Would you like this watch, little cousin?”
Fortunato, casting sidelong glances at the watch, resembled a cat that has been given a whole chicken. It feels that it is being made sport of, and does not dare to use its claws; from time to time it turns its eyes away so as not to be tempted, licking its jaws all the while, and has the appearance of saying to its master, “How cruel your joke is!”
However, the Adjutant seemed in earnest in offering his watch. Fortunato did not reach out his hand for it, but said with a bitter smile:
“Why do you make fun of me?”
“Good God! I am not making fun of you. Only tell me where Gianetto is and the watch is yours.”
Fortunato smiled incredulously, and fixing his black eyes on those of the Adjutant tried to read there the faith he ought to have had in his words.
“May I lose my epaulettes,” cried the Adjutant, “if I do not give you the watch on this condition. These comrades are witnesses; I can not deny it.”