Page:The Jail, Experiences in 1916.pdf/111

 Fancy, Kranz. A feeling for music, a feeling for literature. "Hedrich, what have they against Kranz?"

"Oh, he has been in prison several times. He is about forty years old, and he has spent a good half of his years in jails. He is fond of burgling jewellers' shops, he has worn military uniform without authority, and so on. At the same time he is a thoroughly good fellow. And a man of character,—Papritz fears him like poison."

During exercise Dušek introduced me to a man in dragoon uniform with chains tied round his feet. To prevent the chain from dragging along the ground, he lifted it up with a rope, the end of which he held. He walked with legs astraddle, his face had an intelligent expression, there was a certain dignity in his pale blue eyes,—a very sympathetic personality. And his story, as Dušek related it to me, was a regular martyrdom. Engineer Kubaleck had been employed at the outbreak of war in Russia, at Revel; before that he had been in Germany, in Switzerland, in France. He had a Czech name, but he was a German. When war broke out he had hurried to Austria with his wife and two small children, he had been stopped on the frontier, and at Moravská Ostrava he had been led before Marshal Mattuschka, who snarled at him: "You are a Russian spy. And you know about Russian espionage in Austria." Now Kubaleck knew nothing, he answered a little brusquely,—and ever since he had remained in the clutches of military justice. His family had been interned at Chocen, he had finally been led away to Vienna. One day he had quarrelled with the superintendent, had broken his sword, and that was how he had come by the chain which he had worn ever since.

(I noticed that when Dušek was relating this story with many details, Papa Declich puckered his lips several times as if he wanted to say something, and at the same time his eyes twinkled with a