Page:The Jail, Experiences in 1916.pdf/214

 when I considered that I should not get out that day, that perhaps it would not be until the next day or even the day after, my eyes and my soul were filled with gloom, and everything within me cried out: It is impossible, I could not endure it.

Half past nine,—at last. To the Tigergasse.

My escort consisted this time of a single person. The superintendent considered that it would be unnecessary for two defence-corps men to be worried; one was enough, he said, but it must be someone of rank. And so I was put in charge of a corporal.

We walked along in friendly conversation slowly, as if we were going for a walk. The corporal cursed the war and asked me how much longer "this madness" was going to last. He had two ham-and-beef shops,—both were closed; he had two sons,—both were in the army, one on the Russian, the other on the Italian front; he himself had been serving for ten months. He was guarding soldiers under arrest. To hell with it all—

We entered the street of the Tigers, number 11, and on the stairs we met a strange Lieutenant-Superintendent, who stopped and asked: "Mr. M?"

I assented.

"Then let's go up. I am on duty today in place of Dr. Frank who is not here, and upon me has devolved the pleasant task of liberating you, master. I am Dr. Schieber."

"Master",—once again "Master".

On the stairs a fat man with a boy came down towards us. He looked at me closely, then he said to the superintendent: "I ought to know this gentleman."

"This gentleman?" remarked Dr. Schieber warmly, "you can hardly know this gentleman; his name perhaps,—it is a name of world-wide renown."