Page:The Jail, Experiences in 1916.pdf/99

 which had been hung up, on the overcoats and upon us, the grateful spectators.

Papa Declich and the artilleryman of yesterday dragged in a tub of icy water, rolled up their shirt-sleeves, sprinkled the water on the floor, whereupon Voronin chased it to and fro with his broom, until it had turned into a black puddle. The artilleryman thrust a brush into it which had long since lost its bristles, and Papa Declich dabbled a black rag in it. The puddle, chased about in this way, rolled from wall to wall, finally it turned to the threshold of the room, where however, Papa Declich jumped after it, collected it with his rag and wrung it out in the tub.

We looked on. The censorists were sitting at the other table and swinging their legs in the air. Budi was lying upon the piled-up mattresses, Mr. Karl beside him (he was whistling a tune from the "Merry Widow" the while, and he was whistling it artistically); the sergeant together with platoon-leader Kretzer, had climbed on to the second pile of mattresses and were also looking on, the sergeant relating about his captain who, if he only had an inkling where he (the sergeant) was and why he was there, would give himself no rest until he had liberated him. Old Nicolodi was sitting on his box and also looking on, Hedrich was roaming about somewhere in the jail and shaving people. Dušek was writing in the superintendent's office, the rest were standing by the walls and also looking on. How modest a man can become, how simple in his tastes, with what trifling spectacles he can manage to be satisfied here!

The sergeant suddenly told me to climb up to him and look out of the window. From the courtyard outside could be heard quick steps,—I looked: Dr. Kramář. With his head bent forward he was fairly racing around the circumference of the large square courtyard. Defence-corps men with bayonets were guarding him and