The roast meat on the dish had a very appetizing odor; for half a year I had not tasted a drop of wine; and what was more, I did not feel towards the surly turnkey the aversion that I felt towards the gently-speaking, courteous superintendent; but I was resolved to accept no favors from my jailor.
"I owe this to the kindness of the Herr Superintendent?" I asked, taking my seat at the table.
"This and more," said the old man.
"For instance?"
"For instance, that one has our best cell, with a look-out into the garden, and not one looking into the prison-yard, where neither sunlight nor moonlight ever comes."
"Thanks," said I, "anything else?"
"That one can wear his handsome town-clothes, instead of unbleached drilling; which is not such a bad rig, though, after all."
"Thanks," said I; "anything else?"
"And that one has Sergeant Süssmilch for warden."
"With whom I have the honor?"