"You give your resignation," he said, "well, I do not accept it. Place yourself in confinement. Sir," said he, stamping his foot and walking towards Frederic, "to prison for fifteen days with you."
"You have no longer the right to give me an order," said Frederic, detaching his epaulettes.
Sturm, exasperated, livid, foaming at the mouth, again raised his whip upon the chief of his staff, but this time he slashed his cheek and shoulder with it. Frederic, who until now had held himself in, uttered a cry of rage, made a bound aside and drew his sword.
"Imbecile," shouted Sturm, with a burst of laughter, "you will be shot after a court martial."
At this Frederic lost his head completely and threw himself upon the general, but he found four officers in his path. One whispered to him: "Save yourself; we will calm him."
"And I," said Frederic, "I who have been struck; who will calm me?"
"We give you our word of honour that we have not seen the blow," said the officers.
"But I have felt it. And as I have given my word of honour that one of us must die, I must act accordingly. Adieu, gentlemen."
Two of the officers trying to follow him:
"Thunders and tempests! gentlemen," called the general after them. "Come back; no one leaves this room except this madman who will be arrested by the provost marshal."