Jaures complied without hesitation. The request was so natural that it took him completely off his guard.
"So you do speak German," remarked the wearer of the tarboosh.
Enrico shook his head.
"Come, come," continued the other. "Do not say that you cannot. I asked you for the salt. I was not looking at it, so that you have no excuse."
Jaures swallowed a big chunk of bread and stole cautiously to the door. For a few seconds he listened lest there should be anyone eavesdropping without.
"Yes," he admitted. "My mother was German. But don't speak so loudly."
"From what town came she?" enquired his companion.
"From Lubeck," he replied.
"And I come from Immeristadt. I am a Swabian and my name is Otto Freising," announced the German. "What are you doing here?"
"I am not here of my own free will," said Jaures, guardedly. He was rather inclined to shut up like an oyster, but his semi-compatriot was persistent.