"'Pon my soul, this is too preposterous. My good boy, I'm very glad
you know how to obey an order, but you must use your discretion
sometimes."

At the word "discretion" Nijinsky started. Then he broke all records
and winked--winked at a perfectly good General at eleven o'clock in
the morning.

"Oh, no, you der-don't," he grinned; "I've been her-had before. The
Captain says I'm ner-not to use my discretion; it only ger-gets me
into a lot of terouble."

The General got out of his car. So did the G.S.O.1. So did the
D.A.Q.M.G. So did the A.D.C. But the spectacle was not so impressive
as before. They advanced in artillery formation upon the enemy. It was
enough. Perish the General Staff! They were mere phantoms of authority
beside the vision of the company officer and the words, "Escort and
accused--halt. Left--turn. Private Nijinsky, Sir." With his eyes
bulging with excitement Nijinsky leapt back and assumed the attitude
of warlike defiance known as "coming on guard."

The General hesitated. He did not know Nijinsky, you see; he had
never seen him going sick before the battle, or heard him murmur
"ser-something for ner-nothing," as he took his medicine.

"Look here, my man, you are exceeding your duty and the consequences
will be very serious. I will _not_ be stopped in this outrageous
manner! There is a time to _obey_ orders and there is a time to _use
our discretion_. Confound it, we must _all_ of us use our discretion