Trenck was the first to break the silence, for prisoners grasp every opportunity for conversation, and at any price.
“It appears to me your hand is wounded, lieutenant,” Trenck said. “Have you found another opportunity to cross swords?”
“Lieutenant Schell, it seemed to me, looked somewhat obliquely at me,” replied the Dane. “Therefore, I indulged him in a pass or two directed against his right arm.”
“Such a delicate youth, and so mild-mannered! Are you not ashamed?”
“What could I do? There was no one else at hand.”
“Nevertheless he seems to have wounded you?”
“Yes, accidentally though, without knowing what he did.”
“The fact, then, of having been expelled from two regiments for your highhanded acts, and finally transferred to the garrison of the fortress of Glatz as punishment, has not cured you of your fire-eating propensities?”
“When a man has the reputation of being the best swordsman in Prussia he values that title somewhat more than your military rank, which any clumsy fool can obtain.”
“You, the best swordsman!” exclaimed Trenck, concluding his remark with an ironical puff of smoke.