nt; it is terribly dull here." And
the major ended by yielding. "Very well," he replied, and the baron
immediately sent for _Le Devoir_. He was an old non-commissioned
officer, who had never been seen to smile, but who carried out all the
orders of his superiors to the letter, no matter what they might be. He
stood there, with an impassive face, while he received the baron's
instructions, and then went out, and five minutes later a large wagon
belonging to the military train, covered with a miller's till, galloped
off as fast as four horses could take it, under the pouring rain, and
the officers all seemed to awaken from their lethargy, their looks
brightened, and they began to talk.

Although it was raining as hard as ever, the major declared that it was
not so dull, and Lieutenant von Grossling said with conviction, that the
sky was clearing up, while Mademoiselle Fifi did not seem to be able to
keep in his place. He got up, and sat down again, and his bright eyes
seemed to be looking for something to destroy. Suddenly, looking at the
lady with the moustache, the young fellow pulled out his revolver, and
said: "You shall not see it." And without leaving his seat he aimed, and
with two successive bullets cut out both the eyes of the portrait.

"Let us make a mine!" he then exclaimed, and the conversation was
suddenly interrupted, as if they had found some fresh and powerful
subject of interest. The mine was his invention, his method of
destruction, and his favorite amusement.

When he left the chateau, the lawful owner, Count Fernand d'Amoys
d'Uville, had not had time to carry away or to hide anything, except the
plate, which had been stowed away in a hole made in one of the walls, so
that, as he was very rich and had good taste, the large drawing-room,
which opened into the dining-room, had looked like the gallery in a
museum, before his precipitate flight.

Expensive oil-paintings, water colors, and drawings hung against the
walls, while on the tables, on the hanging shelves, and in elegant glass
cupboards, there were a thousand knick-knacks; small vases, statuettes,
groups in Dresden china, and grotesque Chinese figures, old ivory, and
Venetian glass, which filled the large room with their precious and
fantastical array.

Scarcely anything was left now; not that the things had been stolen, for
the major would not have allowed that, but Mademoiselle Fifi _would have
a mine_, and on that occasion all the officers