What was that? Were his eyes dazzled by the sunlight? Or could anything of the sort possibly happen under the eye of the strict commanding officer of the regiment? Had discipline really died out among the younger generation of the army?
No, it was no optical deception. He could see it now, plainly—the lieutenant, passing there, on the other side of the street, with a letter in his hand, had no sword on! And it was not nearly four P.M.!
“Lieutenant!” cried the fire-eater, in a momentary ebullition of indignation, from the open window; “if I may ask you—one moment!”
The man addressed immediately turned with a military salute, and hastened to the Colonel’s rooms, without the slightest presentiment of the storm about to burst over his head.
He rang the bell, and the Colonel’s servant opened the door.
Passing through the hall, he gave a hasty glance at his uniform to see whether it was all right—and then he discovered his misfortune. Horrible! He had, in his haste to post a letter, forgotten to buckle on his sword!
For one moment he hesitated; he was really frightened, and saw, looming up in space, all the evil consequences of his mistake, in the form of all possible reports, with “arrest” at the end of them.
The Colonel would send a note to the commander of division, who would endorse and put it into the hands of the captain—and then the fat would be in the fire with a vengeance! All this passed like a flash of lightning through the unhappy man’s head, and he looked helplessly round, as though hoping that some good genius would inspire him with a way of escape in this sore need. What was he to do? He could not keep the cantankerous Colonel waiting,—there was nothing for it except to march valiantly forward into the lion’s den. But luck never forsakes a lieutenant!
What is that glittering over there in the umbrella-stand?
The Colonel’s sword!... He pulls out his purse,—thrusts, with an eloquent gesture, a guilder into the hand of the Colonel’s man, and buckles on the sword—all in less time than it takes to tell it.