Thereupon the _Adjudant_, who had donned his uniform in a remarkably short time, came down the stairs. He saluted, and said: "You have sent for me, sir?" "Sent for you," slowly replied the Captain. "Oh yes--I sent for you; why the devil didn't you come at once?" "I was in bed, sir, and had to dress." "Well," replied the Captain, "you had better go and undress and get back to bed; I don't want you. I've got a Dragoon, and I have got a lantern, and do you imagine that I want any one to show me what is wrong? Don't stare at me like that," he added. "Go to bed, I tell you." The _Adjudant_ saluted, and quietly returned to his room, evidently well accustomed to such scenes. "Come on, my Dragoon," said the Captain, taking hold of my arm, and dragging me towards the kitchen. When we got to the door I told him where we were. "That is just it," he says; "it's the kitchen I want to see"; and as we stepped in, he slipped on the dirty floor, and before I could stop him he was sitting down besmeared with grease. He laughed, but the fall appeared to have done him good, and to have partly recalled him to his senses. I helped him to rise, and as he did so he turned to me, and ordered me to light up the stove with my lantern. "That's all right," he said, "I only wanted to see in what state the cooks had left the kitchen. I'll give them four days' cells to-morrow for having left their floor in such a disgraceful condition. And now I'll go home." According to his orders I walked ahead, and, pulling himself together, he followed me; he told me to lead him as far as the gate of the infantry barracks, thus saving himself a _détour_ of at least 300 yards. When he got to the gate he had so far recovered that he was able to order the infantry Sergeant to open it for him, and he walked straight out, the Sergeant never suspecting for a moment the state he was in. I returned to the guard-room and reported matters to the Sergeant, who asked me to keep the matter quite dark for the sake of the honour of the regiment.