"Herr Captain, have compassion on a wretched father. I have known you since you were a little boy, who sat on my knee, and I always, always was fond of you. Isn't it true, you people? Wouldn't any of us have willingly given our lives for the Junker?"
Had his corpulency permitted, he would have thrown himself at Boleslav's feet. On seeing his son hustled away, he ran after him in despair, and made a futile attempt to hold him back by the coattails. But the door was promptly closed on him.
"Give me the key!" shouted Boleslav.
The old man hurled himself on the steps, and pounded the oak panels of the door with his fists.
The key was delivered up by the flügelman and his companions.
"Your name?"
"Michael Grossjohann!" the Schrandener answered curtly.
"And yours," turning to the two others. "Franz Malky."
"Emil Rosner."
He entered the names in his pocket-book.