I looked beseechingly at the young prefect, but he did not understand.
“What can I do now to oblige you, beautiful Madonna?” he asked.
I pointed to the coat and tried to look as charming as possible.
“I am very sorry,” he said, bewildered, “but I do not understand at all.”
I was still pointing to the coat.
“Give it me, will you?” I said.
“My overcoat?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want it for?”
“For my wounded men when they are convalescent.”