"Explain yourself and quickly. I don't want my son to see you here. Speak."
There was no time to be lost, as Dourlowski saw:
"Well, look here," he said. "It's a question of a young soldier in the Börsweilen garrison. He's too unhappy for words where he is ... and he's mad at having to serve Germany."
"A ne'er-do-well," growled Morestal. "A slacker who doesn't want to work."
"No, not this one, I tell you, not this one. He means to enlist in the Foreign Legion. He loves France."
"Yes, always the same story. And then—pah!—one never hears of them again. More gallows' seed!"
Dourlowski seemed shocked and scandalized:
"How can you say such a thing, M. Morestal?... If you only knew! A brave soldier who asks nothing better than to die fighting for our country."
The old man started:
"'Our country,' indeed! I forbid you to speak like that. Have you the least idea where you hail from? A scamp like you has no country."