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Rh "And you?" asked the baker sternly, without taking his eyes off the girl.

"What's the matter with me?"

"Nothing. . . ."

"Well, quicker, give me biscuits. . . ."

She had never before hurried us on. . ..

"There's plenty of time!" said the baker, his eyes fixed on her face.

Then she suddenly turned around and disappeared behind the door.

The baker took up his shovel and said calmly, turning towards the oven:

"It is done, it seems! . . . The soldier! . . . Rascal! . . . Scoundrel!" . ..

Like a herd of sheep, pushing one another, we walked back to the table, seated ourselves in silence and began to work slowly. Soon some one said: