I saw, at the same time, that she was dressed in her Sabbath clothes, with her ear-rings, her green skirt, and her red silk neckerchief. "But why must I shave, Sorlé?" I exclaimed. "Go quick; you have no time to lose!" replied she. This woman had so much good sense, she had so many times set things right by her ready wit, that I said nothing more, and went into my bedroom to shave myself and put on a clean shirt. As I was putting on my shirt I heard little Sâfel cry out: "Here he is, mamma! here he is!" Then steps were heard on the stairs, and a rough voice called: "Holla! you folks. Ho!" I thought to myself: "It is the sergeant," and I listened. "Ah! here is our sergeant!" cried Sâfel, triumphantly. "Oh! that is good," replied my wife, in a cheerful tone. "Come in, Mr. Sergeant, come in! We were expecting you. I knew that we were to have the honor of having a sergeant; we were glad to hear it, because we have had only common soldiers before. Be so good as to come in, Mr. Sergeant." [Illustration: "BE SO GOOD AS TO COME IN, MR. SERGEANT."] She spoke in this way as if she were really pleased, and I thought to myself: "O Sorlé, Sorlé! You shrewd woman! You sensible woman! I see through it now. I see your cunning. You are going to mollify this rascal! Ah, Moses! what a wife you have! Congratulate yourself! Congratulate yourself!" I hastened to dress myself, laughing all the while; and I heard this brute of a sergeant say: "Yes, yes! It is all very well. But that isn't the point! Show me my room, my bed. You can't pay me with fine speeches; people know Sergeant Trubert too well for that." "Certainly, Mr. Sergeant, certainly," replied my wife, "here is your room and your bed. See, it is the best we have." Then they went into the passage, and I heard Sorlé open the door of the handsome room which Baruch and Zeffen occupied when they came to Phalsburg. I followed them softly. The sergeant thrust his fist into the bed to feel if it was soft. Sorlé and Sâfel looked on smilingly behind him. He examined every corner with a scowl. You never saw such a face, Fritz; a gray bristling mustache, a long thin nose, hooked over the mouth; a yellow skin, full of wrinkles: he dragged the butt-end of his gun on the floor, without seeming to notice anything, and muttered ill-naturedly: "Hem! hem! What is that down there?" "It is the wash-basin, Mr. Sergeant." "And these chairs, are they strong? Will they bear anything?" He knocked them rudely down. It was evident he wanted to find fault with something. On turning round he saw me, and looking at me sideways, asked: "Are you the citizen?" "Yes, sergeant; I am." "Ah!" He put his gun in a corner, threw his knapsack on the table, and said: "That will do! You may go." Sâfel had opened the kitchen door, and the good smell of the roast came into the room. "Mr. Sergeant," said Sorlé very pleasantly, "allow me to ask a favor of you."