Mademoiselle Fifi | Page 3

of coffee (the
sixth since that morning), while listening to the report of his
subordinate about the incidents and happening in the service. Then both
came back near the window and declared that theirs was not a cheerful
lot. The Major, a quiet man, married and having left his wife home,
would adapt himself to anything; but the Baron Captain, accustomed to
leading a fast life, a patron of low resorts, a wild chaser of disreputable
women, was furious at having been confined for the last three months
to the obligatory chasteness of this out of the way Post.
Presently they heard a scratching on the door; the Commander said:
"Come in," and a man, one of their automaton soldiers, appeared in the
aperture, announcing by his mere presence that luncheon was served.

In the dining-room they found three officers of lower rank; one
lieutenant, Otto von Grossling, and two second-lieutenants, Fritz
Scheuneberg and Markgraf Wilhelm von Eyrik, a tiny blond man,
haughty and brutal with his men, harsh toward the vanquished foe, and
violent like a fire-arm.
Since his arrival in France his comrade called him only Mademoiselle
Fifi. This nickname was bestowed upon him on account of his
coquettish style of dressing and manners, his slender waist, which
looked as if it were laced in a corset, his pale face on which a nascent
mustache could hardly be seen, and also on account of the habit he had
acquired, in order to express his supreme contempt for persons and
things, of using continually the French locution: "Fi! fi donc!" which he
pronounced with a slight lisping.
The dining-room of the Chateau d'Uville was a large and regal hall, the
ancient mirrors of which constellated with bullet holes, and the high
Flanders tapestries, slashed with sword cuts and hanging in shreds at
certain places, told the tale of Mademoiselle Fifi's favorite occupations
and pastime during his hours of idleness.
On the walls, three family portraits, a warrior wearing his armor, a
Cardinal and a Chief Justice, were smoking long porcelain pipes, while
in its frame, ungilt by age, a noble lady in a tight waist, was showing
with an arrogant air an enormous pair of mustache crayoned with
charcoal.
And the Officers' luncheon went off almost silently in this mutilated
room, darkened by the shower outside, sad and depressing in its
vanquished appearance, the old oak parquet floor of which had become
solid like the floor of a bar room.
Having finished eating, it was time for smoking; they began to drink
and, reverting to their usual topic, they spoke of their monotonous and
tedious life. Bottles of cognac and liqueur passed from hand to hand,
and seating back on their chairs, they were all absorbing their liqueur in
repeated sips, holding at the corner of their mouths the long curved
pipes ending in a meerschaum bowl, invariably daubed as if to seduce

Hottentots.
As soon as their glasses were empty, they refilled them with a gesture
of resigned weariness. But Mademoiselle Fifi broke his glass every
instant and then a soldier brought him immediately a new one.
A mist of acrid smoke bathed, drowned them, and they seemed to sink
into a somnolent and sad inebriety, in that taciturn and morose
intoxication peculiar to men who have nothing to do.
But suddenly the Baron sat up. A revolt shook him; he swore: "By
heavens! this cannot go on indefinitely; we must in the end invent
something."
Lieutenant Otto and Second-Lieutenant Fritz, two Teutons eminently
endowed with heavy and serious German faces, replied together: "What
shall we invent, Captain?"
He mused for a few seconds and resumed: "What? Well, we must
organize an entertainment, if the Commander will permit."
The Major took his pipe out of his mouth: "What entertainment,
Captain?"--
The Baron came nearer: "Leave it to me, Commander; I shall send
Pflicht[*] to Rouen, and he will bring us some women I know where to
get them. A supper will be prepared here; besides we have everything,
and I may venture to say we shall spend a rather pleasant evening."
[*]Duty
Graf Farlsberg, shrugged his shoulders and smiled: "You are crazy, my
friend!"
But all the officers had risen, surrounding their chief and beseeching
him: "Let the Captain go, Commander; it is so sad here!"
Finally the Major yielded: "All right!" said he; and immediately the
Baron sent for Pflicht. Pflicht was an old non-commissioned officer,

who had never been seen smiling, but who carried out with fanatical
punctuality the orders of his superiors, no matter what they were.
Erect, with his impassive face, he received the Baron's instructions;
then he left the room; and five minutes later a large military wagon,
covered with miller's tarpaulin stretched in the shape of a dome, was
being rapidly driven away under the