Trast. (Politely) Is that all?
Lothar. (Threateningly) Is that all, Count?
Trast. Pardon me! One serves in the Reserves during war time only. When I came back I hoped that I could live in peace.
Lothar. You are mistaken, Count, one serves in the Reserves during the rifle practice, as well.
Trast. Do you need me for rifle practice?
Lothar. Permit me, Count, to ask you a question.
Trast. With pleasure.
Lothar. In the regiment to which it is my great honor to belong there was formerly a young fellow who bore the same name as yours.
Trast. Ah? Then it was probably I.
Lothar. (Sharply) The man left the army under a cloud.