As the Corporal disrobed, the Grasshopper rose from his cot, crouched, and hopped towards him.
The Corporal evinced no surprise.
"Monsieur le Caporal," quoth the Grasshopper. "How can a Cigale steer a gunboat? … I ask you. … How can I possibly dip the ensign from peak to taffrail, cat the anchor or shoot the sun, by the pale glimmer of the binnacle light? … And I have, for cargo, the Cestus of Aphrodite.…"
"And I have, for cargo, seven bottles of good red wine—beneath my Cestus of Corporal—so I can't tell you, Grasshopper," was the reply. … "Va t'en! … You go and ask Monsieur le bon Diable—and tell him his old ami Caporal Achille Martel sent you. … Go on—allez schteb' los—and let me sleep.…"
The Grasshopper hopped to the door and out into the corridor. …
Rupert fell asleep. …
As John Bull had prophesied, he was awakened by yells of "Au jus! Au jus! Au jus!" from the garde-chambre, the room-orderly on duty, as he went from cot to cot with a huge jug.
Each sleepy soul roused himself sufficiently to hold out the tin mug which hung at the head of his bed, and to receive a half-pint or so of the "gravy"—which proved to be really excellent coffee. For his own part, Rupert would have been glad of the addition of a little milk and sugar, but he had swallowed too much milkless and sugarless tea (from a basin) in the British Army, to be concerned about such a trifle….
"Good morning. Put on the white trousers and come downstairs with me," said John Bull, as he also swallowed his coffee. "Be quick, or you won't get
