hang the human nature! She's a good
old brute, if you don't drive her hard. Our regiment left Verona in
November. There we had tolerable cookery; come and take the best we can
give you."

But this invitation Wilfrid had to decline.

"Why?" said Jenna.

He replied: "I've stuck at Meran three months. I did it, in obedience to
what I understood from Colonel Zofel to be the General's orders. When I
was as perfectly dry as a baked Egyptian, I determined to believe that I
was not only in disgrace, but dismissed the service. I posted to Botzen
and Riva, on to Milan; and here I am. The least I can do is to show
myself here."

"Very well, then, come and show yourself at our table," said Jenna.
"Listen: we'll make a furious row after supper, and get hauled in by the
collar before the General. You can swear you have never been absent from
duty: swear the General never gave you forcible furlough. I'll swear
it; all our fellows will swear it. The General will say, 'Oh! a very
big lie's equal to a truth; big brother to a fact, or something; as he
always does, you know. Face it out. We can't spare a good stout sword in
these times. On with me, my Pierson."

"I would," said Wilfrid, doubtfully.

A douse of water from a window extinguished their cigars.

Lieutenant Jenna wiped his face deliberately, and lighting another
cigar, remarked--"This is the fifth poor devil who has come to an
untimely end within an hour. It is brisk work. Now, I'll swear I'll
smoke this one out."

The cigar was scattered in sparks from his lips by a hat skilfully
flung. He picked it up miry and cleaned it, observing that his honour
was pledged to this fellow. The hat he trampled into a muddy lump.
Wilfrid found it impossible to ape his coolness. He swung about for an
adversary. Jenna pulled him on.

"A salute from a window," he said. "We can't storm the houses. The
time'll come for it--and then, you cats!"

Wilfrid inquired how long this state of things had been going on. Jenna
replied that they appeared to be in the middle of it;--nearly a week.
Another week, and their day would arrive; and then!

"Have you heard anything of a Count Ammiani here?" said Wilfrid.

"Oh! he's one of the lot, I believe. We have him fast, as we'll have
the bundle of them. Keep eye on those dogs behind us, and manoeuvre your
cigar. The plan is, to give half-a-dozen bright puffs, and then keep it
in your fist; and when you see an Italian head, volcano him like fury.
Ye