"Yes."
"You've learned a lesson, eh?"
"Yes.
"Then say thank you!"
"Thank you!"
"Rrruksa!"* [*Ruksa, you have leave to go.]
The poor wretch turned and went, staggering rather than walking, to the door and disappearing into outer darkness without a backward glance.
"Now for some more songs and a round of drinks!" Schubert shouted.
But Fred was no longer in mood to make music, or even to be civil. He shut the concertina up, and asked the Jew how much he owed. The sergeants went on singing without music, and while we waited for the Jew to reckon up Fred's score Schubert came over to us, sat down between me and Fred, and proceeded to deal with the new situation in proper German military manner, by direct assault.
"Always you English criticize!" he began. "Can you never travel without applying your cursed standards to everything you behold? I tell you, we Germans know how to rule these black people! We understand! We employ no sickly sentiment! We give orders—they obey, or else suffer terribly and swiftly! In that manner we arrive at knowing where we are!"