But these companions in arms didn't bring down a single painted splinter the whole of the afternoon. Each in his secret heart thought the other was the bird of evil omen; for in matters of chance we are prone to hang our faith upon a bit of superstition, rather than to nothing at all. The fickle Babylonish harlot went fluttering off with that amount of bashful coyness, that the hairdresser once sent a bullet within an ace of the fellow who was working her backwards and forwards. At last, however, in the afternoon, he sent his Cupid's dart right through that black heart of hers, and, by consequence, through the pig at the same time. This almost terrified Firmian; he said that if he couldn't hit anything himself he would accept only the head of this pig--this polypus in the heart of the Babylonian _fille de joie_. All that was left of the bird was its _torso_, which stuck to its perch like the very Rump Parliament, which these pretenders to the crown would so fain have dissolved. A regular running musketry fusilade of eager interest, enthusiasm, emulation, now went flashing from breast to breast, fanned by every puff of powder which rose in smoke as a rifle went off. When the bird shook a little all the competitors shook also, except Herr von Meyern, who had gone off, and--seeing what a state of excitement everybody was in, especially our hero--marched away to Madame Siebenkæs, thinking that he had a better chance of becoming, in _that_ quarter, king of a queen than he had here of acquiring the sovereignty of the riflemen. However, my readers and I shall slip into the Siebenkæs' chamber after him presently. Twice already had the seventy numbers loaded in vain for the decisive shot; the obstinate stump still stuck glued to its perch, and scarce so much as trembled; the poor tantalised hearts were torn and pierced by every bullet that sped on its course. Their fears waxed apace, so did their hopes, but most of all their curses (those brief ejaculatory prayers to the devil). The theologians of the seventh decade of the present century had the devil often enough in their pens--in their denials or in their assertions of him--but the Kuhschnappelers had him far oftener in their mouths, particularly the upper classes.