THE JAIL
And when he was summoned for cross-examination, he departed like a toreador into the arena. Victorious and self-assured. But when he returned half an hour later, he was downcast and silent. He opened his box, took off his black coat and slipped on a grey house-jacket, pulled off his patent leather boots and donned comfortable shoes.
Mr. Lamm watched him during this process with great interest, and when he had finished, he said to him benevolently: "It is a good thing if a man has an extra outfit with him, then he can at least make himself at home immediately."
Mr. Fels questioned me as to whether I had heard his avowed intentions towards the superintendent, and told me to have a look at this hero now,—that, he said, was the whole Magyar character for which Austria has such awesome respect, brag, nothing but brag. The present-day Magyars, he declared, were not those of the year 1848; every other one was somebody whose name had been different a short time previously; everything had become Jewish, and he, Fels, knew these Jews,—they are just as great braggarts as they are cowards, as soon as you show them your fist.
We lost the sergeant. He was not transferred anywhere, but he went whither we were all yearning to go—to freedom. He was summoned on the Saturday morning, whether to a cross-examination or to a trial, it was difficult to say; he did not tell us, and we did not discover from any other quarter. An hour later he came back beaming with joy; he was to be discharged that day. He went from one man to another, he assured each one that he would remember him to his dying hour, he declared to each one that he would not remain long there either, and would also be set at liberty; that his trifling offence would evaporate and vanish like those cigarettes of his. He bequeathed his wine to Karl, he had ordered five
155
