but Baron von Kelweinstein gave the reins to all his vicious
propensities, beamed, made doubtful remarks, and seemed on fire
with his crown of red hair. He paid them compliments in French
from the other side of the Rhine, and sputtered out gallant
remarks, only fit for a low pot-house, from between his two
broken teeth.

They did not understand him, however, and their intelligence did
not seem to be awakened until he uttered nasty words and broad
expressions, which were mangled by his accent. Then all began to
laugh at once, like mad women, and fell against each other,
repeating the words, which the baron then began to say all wrong,
in order that he might have the pleasure of hearing them say
doubtful things. They gave him as much of that stuff as he
wanted, for they were drunk after the first bottle of wine, and,
becoming themselves once more, and opening the door to their
usual habits, they kissed the mustaches on the right and left of
them, pinched their arms, uttered furious cries, drank out of
every glass, and sang French couplets, and bits of German songs,
which they had picked up in their daily intercourse with the
enemy.

Soon the men themselves, intoxicated by that which was displayed
to their sight and touch, grew very amorous, shouted and broke
the plates and dishes, while the soldiers behind them waited on
them stolidly. The commandant was the only one who put any
restraint upon himself.

Mademoiselle Fifi had taken Rachel on to his knees, and, getting
excited, at one moment kissed the little black curls on her neck,