Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - II - VIII
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before an invisible large audience, and the
voice that had called Josephine a thief
began:
“When I was at Potsdam . . .”
Yells of Hoch! and Prosit! curtailed the
peroration, and the speaker sat down amidst
a fearful banging of instantaneously emptied
glasses.
Then another rose with a stiff bow and
with equal gravity the voice, that maybe an
hour before had ordered Pierre to be shot,
began:
“Gott strafe England!”
The Doctor looked on fascinated.
Compelled by an invisible force he drew nearer
and nearer till at last he stood motionless,
leaning against the window-sill. His eyes
stared wide open and still on the five men.
He heard their words as clearly as if he had
been in the room, but he no longer understood
their meaning.
One—two—three—four—five—yes, they
were five, just five. The candles on the table
were also five—why five? The buttons on
the surgeon’s tunic were also five. Why just
five? The swords standing there in the
corner, were they four or five? Why didn’t
they wear their swords? Why didn’t they
have their revolvers in their leather belts?
Why didn’t somebody come and tell them
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