“Yes, you can carry a joke too far,” said the army officer’s son.  “Yes, why?”

The others nodded.  An atmosphere of hostility was gathering around Hugo.  In face of it a smile began playing about the corners of his lips.  The smile spread.  For the first time he was laughing, while all the others were serious.  Suddenly he threw his arms around the necks of the men next to him.

“Why, to be with all you good fellows, of course!” he said, “and to complete my education.  If I hadn’t taken my period in the army, you might have shaved me, Eduardo; you might have fixed a horseshoe for me, Henry; you might have sold me turnips, Eugene, but I shouldn’t have known you.  Now we all know one another by eating the same food, wearing the same clothes, marching side by side, and submitting to another kind of discipline than that of our officers—­the discipline of close association in a community of service.  There’s hope for humanity in that—­for humanity trying to free itself of its fetters.  We have mixed with the people of the capital.  They have found us and we have found them to be of the same human family.”

“That’s so!  This business of moving regiments about from one garrison to another is a good cure for provincialism,” said the doctor’s son.

“Judge’s son or banker’s son or blacksmith’s son, whenever we meet in after-life there will be a thought of fellowship exchanged in our glances,” Hugo continued.  “Haven’t we got something that we couldn’t get otherwise?  Doesn’t it thrill you now when we’re all tired from the march except leviathan Gene—­thrill you with a warm glow from the flow of good, rich, healthy red blood?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

There was a chorus of assent.  Banker’s son clapped valet’s son on the shoulder; laborer’s son and doctor’s son locked arms and teetered on the edge of the cot together.

“And I’ve another idea,” proceeded Hugo very seriously as the vows of eternal friendship subsided.  “It is one to spread education and the spirit of comradeship still further.  Instead of two sets of autumn manoeuvres, one on either side of the frontier, I’d have our army and the Browns hold a manoeuvre together—­this year on their side and next year on ours.”

The biggest roar yet rose from throats that had been venting a tender tone.  Only the slow Eugene Aronson was blank and puzzled.  But directly he, too, broke into laughter, louder and more prolonged than the others.

“You can be so solemn that it takes a minute to see your joke,” he said.

“And humorous when we expect him to be solemn—­and, presto, there he goes!” added the judge’s son.

Hugo’s lips were twitching peculiarly.

“Look at him!” exclaimed the manufacturer’s son.  “Oh, you’ve had us all going this afternoon, you old farceur, you, Hugo!”

In the silence that waited on another extravagance from the entertainer the sergeant entered the room.