The fear that fire-balls will be flung far in from here, or fire-arrows shot from the adjacent trenches, has made them institute patrols, which make a weary round all through the night to see that all’s well.  In the thick darkness these men can act as they please, and already the are several sales histoires being sold.  One is very funny.  The patrol in question was composed entirely of Russian students, who are not rated as effectives.  Beginning at nine o’clock the day before yesterday, the patrol had got as far as the Japanese women’s quarters at this northern front of the British Legation, when they were halted for a few minutes to communicate some orders.  One of the volunteers, of an amorous disposition, noticed a buxom little Japanese servant at work on a wash-tub in the gloom.  An appointment was made for the morrow....

The next night duly came.  Once more the patrol halted, and once more the young Russian told his companions to go on.  The patrol moved away, and the adventurous Russian tiptoed into the Japanese quarters.  Cautiously feeling his way down a corridor, he opened a door, which he thought the right one; then the tragedy occurred.  Suddenly a quiet voice said to him in French out of the gloom: 

“Monsieur desire quelque chose?  Je serai charmee de donner a Monsieur ce qu’il voudra s’il veut bien rester a la porte.”  The wretched Russian student imagined he was lost; it was the wife of a Minister!  He hesitated a minute; then, gripping his rifle and with the perfect Russian imperturbability coming to his rescue, he replied, with a deep bow:  “Merci, Madame, Merci mille fois!  Je cherchais seulement de la vaseline pour mon fusil!”

This phrase has become immortal among the besieged.

XIV

THE EVER-GROWING CASUALTY LIST

16th July, 1900.

* * * * *

And yet one is lucky if one can laugh at all.  The rifle and cannon fire continues; barricades are pushing closer and closer, more of our men are falling—­it is always the same monotonous chronicle.  A few days ago poor T——­, the Austrian cruiser captain, who aspired to be our commander-in-chief with such disastrous results, was killed in the Su wan-fu while he was encouraging his men to stand firm and not repeat some of their former performances.  To-day little S——­, the British Minister’s chief of the staff, has been mortally hit, and has just died.  It was a sad affair.  In the morning a party from headquarters was making a tour of inspection of the Su wang-fu posts, in order to see exactly how much battering they could stand, and how soon the Italian contention that already the hillock works were untenable would become an undeniable fact.  The Italian defences had been inspected and the little party was crossing the ornamental gardens, which are always swept by a storm of fire, when suddenly S——­