THE JAIL
"Is it any good?" I asked Declich.
"Until somebody brings in something else to us again" he remarked philosphically.
XXVIII.
Dr. Povich-Rosetti dropped the study of English. The superintendent who had caught rheumatism in his back, asked the doctor to come and rub his back for him, during which process he informed him that the Englishman was a tailor at Mödling. His name was Smith, and that when he had pulled down the flag and trampled on it, he had been as drunk as a lord.
The Englishman did not appear to notice that he had lost his last pupil. He joined Mr. Fröhlich and Karl in their walking party, paced up and down with them in silence, ate everything that the orderlies pushed into the room on the kneading-board, and seemed to enjoy it thoroughly,—otherwise he did nothing but sleep.
It was in the afternoon. I was sitting on my straw mattress, opposite me behind the table sat Mr. Lamm with hands clenched and his head propped up by his clenched hands, — his little straw hat had slipped back to his neck; he looked at me with his shrewd eyes and said: "Do you call this a life? This is no life. If a man shuts up a dog, he lets him out for a little time now and then; if a man shuts up a man, there is nothing left for him to do but to regret that he is not a dog. I have been cooped up here now for six weeks,—why? I don't know; my wife doesn't know",—(Mr. Lamm did not say "meine Frau", but "meine Fru"),—my children don't know either. But the superintendent declares that I wanted to get my son out of the army. The superintendent is a very wise man, he knows a lot, but he doesn't know everything.
197
