That evening came a courteous and flattering message from the commander-in-chief to Colonel Dujardin; and several officers visited his quarters to look at him; they went back disappointed.  The cry was, “What a miserable, melancholy dog!  I expected to see a fine, dashing fellow.”

The trenches neared the town.  Colonel Dujardin’s mine was far advanced; the end of the chamber was within a few yards of the bastion.  Of late, the colonel had often visited this mine in person.  He seemed a little uneasy about something in that quarter; but no one knew what:  he was a silent man.  The third evening, after he dismounted Long Tom, he received private notice that an order was coming down from the commander-in-chief to assault the bastion.  He shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing.  That same night the colonel and one of his lieutenants stole out of the trenches, and by the help of a pitch-dark, windy night, got under the bastion unperceived, and crept round it, and made their observations, and got safe back.  About noon down came General Raimbaut.

“Well, colonel, you are to have your way at last.  Your bastion is to be stormed this afternoon previous to the general assault.  Why, how is this? you don’t seem enchanted?”

“I am not.”

“Why, it was you who pressed for the assault.”

“At the right time, general, not the wrong.  In five days I undertake to blow that bastion into the air.  To assault it now would be to waste our men.”

General Raimbaut thought this excess of caution a great piece of perversity in Achilles.  They were alone, and he said a little peevishly,—­

“Is not this to blow hot and cold on the same thing?”

“No, general,” was the calm reply.  “Not on the same thing.  I blew hot upon timorous counsels; I blow cold on rash ones.  General, last night Lieutenant Fleming and I were under that bastion; and all round it.”

“Ah! my prudent colonel, I thought we should not talk long without your coming out in your true light.  If ever a man secretly enjoyed risking his life, it is you.”

“No, general,” said Dujardin looking gloomily down; “I enjoy neither that nor anything else.  Live or die, it is all one to me; but to the lives of my soldiers I am not indifferent, and never will be while I live.  My apparent rashness of last night was pure prudence.”

Raimbaut’s eye twinkled with suppressed irony.  “No doubt!” said he; “no doubt!”

The impassive colonel would not notice the other’s irony; he went calmly on:—­

“I suspected something; I went to confute, or confirm that suspicion.  I confirmed it.”

Rat! tat! tat! tat! tat! tat! tat! was heard a drum.  Relieving guard in the mine.

Colonel Dujardin interrupted himself.

“That comes apropos,” said he.  “I expect one proof more from that quarter.  Sergeant, send me the sentinel they are relieving.”

Sergeant La Croix soon came back, as pompous as a hen with one chick, predominating with a grand military air over a droll figure that chattered with cold, and held its musket in hands clothed in great mittens.  Dard.