For at this
second a sudden catastrophe happened.
In his frenzy of excitement the General struck with his
fist at the table, missed it, lost his balance and fell
over sideways right on the point of his Pickelhaube which
he had laid on the sofa. There was a sudden sound as of
the ripping of cloth and the bursting of pneumatic cushions
and to my amazement the General collapsed on the sofa,
his uniform suddenly punctured in a dozen places.
"Schnapps," he cried, "fetch brandy."
"Great Heavens! General," I said, "what has happened?"
"My uniform!" he moaned, "it has burst! Give me Schnapps!"
He seemed to shrink visibly in size. His magnificent
chest was gone. He was shrivelling into a tattered heap.
He appeared as he lay there, a very allegory and
illustration of Prussian Furchtbarkeit with the wind
going out of it.
"Fetch Schnapps,"--he moaned.
"There are no Schnapps here," I said, "this is McGill
University."
"Then call the janitor," he said.
"You killed him," I said.
"I didn't.
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