"Hi! Stop!"
Then the train stopped and we laughed.
But things did not always end so harmlessly. We were seated in the railway-carriage—the Krieglach Town Council had given us our fares, which, as we believed, were sent direct by the Emperor—when one of us, Zedel-Zenz, proposed that we should all examine our tufts of rosemary: he whose spray was beginning to fade had lain oftenest in his sweetheart's arms. And then it turned out that the green sprig in my hat was clinging a little wearily and languidly to the red linen flowers. This, of course, caused me a fresh inward alarm. Could this sprig of rosemary know more about her and more about me than I myself did? Had I really been favoured already?
"Yes, that goes without saying!" I laughed, swaggering like anything.
But instead of impressing the others, I only brought down ridicule upon myself. They spoke of rocking the cradle and drew all sorts of conclusions from the fading of the rosemary, until at last I protested angrily. What had it to do with them? I asked. If anybody had anything to complain of, let him come on! For it at once occurred to me, a real recruit must put up with nothing, must know how to be rude and raise a brawl in due season. And so I blustered away until I had blustered myself into a regular, genuine rage, stamping my feet, waving my arms and actually managing to shatter a window-pane.
The guard at once appeared. Who had broken the glass?
"Lenzel's son!" crowed one. "The tailor!"
But the others shouted that it wasn't true and that we mustn't tell who had done it.
"I want no hushing up from any of you!" I broke in. "I smashed the pane. What's the damage?"
"We'll see to that at Bruck," answered the guard. "I'll speak to the captain; the army'll soon tame you, my lad!"