"What on earth had that to do with it?" put in Captain von Stuckardt, rather hesitatingly.
Madelung bowed with ironical politeness.
"Infection with the typhus bacillus," he replied, "was the principal danger in China, Captain von Stuckardt."
After a little pause the shrill voice continued: "We had a senior-lieutenant in our cantonment, belonging to some Prussian grenadier regiment, a gay fellow, and, indeed, quite a useful officer besides."
Madelung paused a moment, and again his dry, mocking laugh resounded.
Then he continued: "He had a queer fad. He cultivated one of his finger-nails, that of the little finger of his left hand, with the greatest care. Just like a Chinese mandarin. At last the nail was fully a centimetre long, and made holes in all his gloves. Now, whenever a speck of dirt lodged in this nail, he was in the habit of removing it with his teeth. It wasn't exactly a nice thing to do; but, you see, he had a passion for that nail. I often said to him, 'My dear fellow, do keep your finger away from your mouth--it's just swarming with typhus bacilli.' He did try, but sometimes he forgot; and so in the end he was caught."
Every one looked inquiringly at Madelung, and he added: "He died of typhus."
He sipped his wine, and continued, rather more gently: "I firmly believe that it required greater self-control in that senior-lieutenant to refrain from putting his little finger into his mouth than to lead his men under the heaviest fire against one of those Chinese clay and mud walls."
Then he raised his voice again, as if ashamed of the rather gentler tone of his last words, and concluded, harshly and shrilly: "Besides, it really is a bad habit, putting one's fingers in one's mouth."
And again he sat silent and stiff, twirling the little silver wheel of the knife-rest.