"A corporal is wanted to command the firing party," said Brocard, "and I have mixed up all the names again in the shako."
"Well, let it be Campana," I replied.
"Me, mon capitaine? What have I done more than my comrades? Why choose me?"
"What have you done? Have you not three chevrons? Are you not the oldest corporal? You should have set the example of subordination. Go!"
"So be it, then," said the corporal gloomily. "Come attention, firing party!"
He marched to the trench at the head of his four grenadiers.
"Attention!" cried I. "Draw the names; the tenth—"
"Enough!" said Zanetto; "let him beware. The business is becoming less amusing, captain."
He drew nine slips successively, which Brocard did not read, so that the suspense continued to the end. The tenth he held up.