They now entered the little garden. The Prussian commander was eating his breakfast in the shelter of a tent. The day was young, yet the sun was hot. Papers and maps were strewn over the top of the long table at which he sat, gorging himself. The guard and the two prisoners halted a few paces away. The general's breakfast was not to be interrupted by anything so trivial as the affairs of Louis and François. "And that ugly glutton is worth more than a hundred thousand men," mused François, eyeing him in wonder. "God, how cheap these boches must be." Staff officers stood outside the tent, awaiting and receiving gruff orders from their superior. Between gulps he gave out almost unintelligible sounds, and one by one these officers, interpreting them as commands, saluted and withdrew. François gazed as one fascinated. He WAS a great general, after all. Only a very great and powerful general could enjoy such respect, such servile obedience as he was receiving from these hulking brutes of men. Directions were punctuated,--or rather indicated,--by the huge carving-knife with which the general slashed his meat. He pointed suddenly with the knife, and, as he did so, the officer at whom it was leveled, sprang into action, to do as he was bidden, as if the shining blade had touched his quivering flesh. Suddenly the great general pushed his bench back from the table, slammed the knife and fork down among the platters, and barked: "Well!" His eyes were fastened upon the prisoners. The guards shoved them forward. "Have you decided? What is it to be,--life or death?" He was in an evil humor. That battery in the hills had found its mark again when the sun was on the rise. "Vive la France!" shouted Louis, raising his eye to heaven. "vive la France!" almost screamed François. "So be it!" roared the commander. His gaze was fixed on Louis. There was the one who would weaken. Not that little devil of a boy beside him. He uttered a short, sharp command to an aide. The torturing of Louis began.... "End it!" commanded the Prussian general after a while. "The fool will not speak!" And the little of life that was left to the shuddering, sightless Louis went out with a sigh--slipped out with the bayonet as it was withdrawn from his loyal breast. Turning to François, who had been forced to witness the mutilation of his brother,--whose arms had been held and whose eyelids were drawn up by the cruel fingers of a soldier who stood behind him,--he said: "Now YOU! You have seen what happened to him! It is your turn now. I was mistaken. I thought that he was the coward. Are you prepared to go through even more than--Ah! Good! I thought so! The little fire-eater weakens!" François, shaken and near to dying of the horror he had witnessed, sagged to his knees. They dragged him forward,--and one of them kicked him. "I will tell! I will tell!" he screamed. "Let me alone! Keep your hands off of me! I will tell, God help me, general!"