# The Jail/Chapter XXI

XXI
One Sunday we suddenly took leave of Dušek. For a number of weeks he had been employed in the superintendent's room; he used to come to us for his evening meal and to spend the night, he now arrived with the sad news that he would be shifted into the Rossau barracks. In these barracks there was a branch establishment of our jail; whenever it had received so many supplies that it was full up, matters were looked into, and so and so many ​numbers were taken off to the barracks—either at night by foot; transport, or else during the day in green vehicles. There they transferred the individuals who had been sentenced to shorter terms of punishment amounting to a few months, or persons whose examination had reached a deadlock, and who could be quietly laid "upon ice". Like Voronin of old. There waited those whom nobody troubled about. So it seemed as if Dušek were right; they wanted to keep us there for the duration of the war, and all cross-examinations were an empty and useless farce. Klofáč was incarcerated in the tower, he had been incarcerated at Prague for years,—and not even the charge against him had been drawn up.
Dušek collected his things, he had equipment for the four seasons of the year, and we parted. For an indefinite period? For ever? Who could say? I was grateful to destiny, since it had to be, for having brought me into number 60 while he was there, and grateful to him for having initiated me into all the features of life and existence there. We were able to accompany him only to the door, he went to the green vehicle with defence-corps men. That was a sad afternoon following his departure,—there was silence in the room, everybody had been fond of him, and it was not until the evening that the tongues were loosened, as it were, The censorists expressed the opinion that he was "ein sehr anständiger Mensch" (a very decent man). Hedrich recalled his first meeting with him, Budi declared that such a man could not and must not be condemned, while Papa Declich remarked that he was now the only one who remained of them all as "alte Diener" (old servant). "Alte Diener" was his customary formula when he introduced himself.
Budi then took Dušek's place in the superintendent's office.
Prosperity ensconced itself in our room. Papritz permitted the censorists to get their food from a restaurant, and the censorists ​immediately managed to make use of this on behalf of Messrs. Wilder and Lamm; Fels and Goldenstein each ordered two portions of lunch daily, which they passed on to their co-religionists in question,—Papritz would not give permission to Wilder and Lamm—why, nobody knew, and only the censorists knew why they obtained it. Further, the superintendent announced that he wanted tu turn number 60 into an "Intelligenz-Zimmer", and immediately the artillery-man, the corporal motor-driver and several more ′Falloti′ had to shift into another cell; Mr. Karl was appointed our orderly or servant, in consequence of which he immediately forfeited his "Mr." and now only answered to the name Karl. There were now but fifteen in the room, and all had the agreeable feeling such as people are accustomed to have, when they get rid of others, whether in a train, in a tram, in a coffee-house at a crowded table, or in jail. During exercise the engineer remarked that he would apply to the superintendent to be transferred to us, he applied, but apparently the superintendent answered with a sharp refusal, without assigning any reasons. Papa Declich, who had followed his action rather uneasily, was obviously pleased at the refusal, but he did not say a word. The censorists again exerted themselves on behalf of Dr. Jonas from number 64,—also in vain. This Dr. Jonas was perhaps the most nervous man in the whole jail. A handsome young lawyer trom Cracow, who shortly before the war married a millionairess, he had got into the censorship during the war, and from the censorship here. Like the rest. He used to weep and despond for whole nights along. Mr. Fels several times brought him to me, so that I should help him as I had helped them. I attempted it, and at the morning exercise I pointed out to him how unwise it was, to let his life be poisoned by jail; at exercise in the afternoon he again came and looked at me with his despairing ​eyes, saying that he had no rest, that life had become loathsome to him and that he would rather beat his head against the wall until it burst. He said that all Cracow, in fact, all Galicia knew him, and were all now aware that he was in jail for deception and fraud, and God knew he was innocent. Perhaps if he had been put. into our cell, the thing would not have happened which happened later...
The gloating of people who were rid of others did not last long. On the following day quite early we had a new arrival—another corporal. A short thick-set man, with a face of which Hedrich, when he had looked at it, remarked that it was one of those which a man would rather not see when he is by himself in aforest or upon a lonely road. The fellow looked around; noticed that all the people were of a better class (Intelligenz-Zimmer!), probably wanted to impress them, and began holding forth. He and a comrade had stolen the regimental cashbox, had carried it off somewhere, opened it and removed seventy-five thousand crowns. When it came out, they made a small fire, and it seemed that the worthy authorities actually discovered corners and edges of the burnt thousand-crown hanknotes. And when doubts arose as to whether the whole quota had been burnt, our corporal suggested to them that they themselves should also burn seventy-five thousand-crown notes and weigh the ashes,—there would not be an ounce more than the ashes from what they had burnt in their fit of panic. And at this he laughed until his eyes filled with tears, the worthy authorities had by no means been prepared to make such a test. The censorists were enormously interested by this story, they asked about one thing after another, and the corporal told his tale in a very open and self-possessed manner. He would get at the most eight years for it, not more. The sentences for such thefts increased in a very moderate proportion; for five thousand he would get two years, for ​fifteen thousand three years, for thirty thousand, four years—so it increased gently, then it stopped and suddenly sank, until it entirely disappeared.
If he had had an opportunity to steal a million, he would have been walking undisturbed along the Ringstrasse, if two million, all the ministers would have been talking to him respectfully, if three million he might have expected some distinction, well, well, a spiteful tongue and an unpleasant man.
"It is for this knowledge apparently that they reckoned him among the intelligent prisoners" said Mr. Fels to me.
And in the following afternoon we received another new specimen. Budi arrived from the office and announced that this time it was really a 'patriot'. His name was Mlacker, but he was a Croat and was hard of hearing. He arrived, looked around at us and at the room, his face became radiant, and he began in a hoarse voice: "Gentlemen, what luck! What luck! For six days I was locked up in a police cell, in darkness, starving, saw nobody, didn't know whether it was night or day, here it is light again, and there are people, people. Gentlemen if I had won the first prize in a Turkish lottery, I could not be happier. Gentlemen, good gentlemen."
Budi spoke to Declich, Papa mumbled something, but went to his larder, took out bread, ham, butter, a box of sardines and a bottle of wine, put it on the table, and Budi invited our new member to eat. Mr. Mlacker began to eat—a concert for the eyes, everybody looked on. He ate, smacked his lips, licked his fingers, returned thanks,—the whole of number 60 was moved. And Budi introduced himself to him in Croatian.—Mr. Mlacker laid down his knife, rolled his eyes, opened his mouth and then shouted: "Perhaps from the family of Budi in Agram"?
​"Dear Budi, dear Budi! What a fine place the world is! What luck!" And overflowing, so to speak, with sweetness, he turned to his food again, gazing with enraptured eyes at our volunteer.
"Did you hear, he called me dear Budi" whispered Budi to me with satisfaction.
"What have the authorities against him?"
"He kept out of the way when he was called up. He was in America,—but I will ask him."
"Dear Budi" lisped Mr. Mlacker afresh, when he had disposed of everything which had been put on the table for him.
Budi sat down with him, and they started talking.
"A very decent man" he reported to me afterwards, "he knows all our family. As I said, he did not appear when he was called up, but a mistake has been made,—he is not to blame for it."
In the evening Budi invited Mr. Mlacker to our table. Mr. Mlacker ate excellently, and again extolled the beauty of the world, the agreeable sojourn there, the kind people and Budi.
"Dear Budi."
Papa Declich did not utter a word, he only watched our guest and scowled. From time to time Hedrich recalled Dušek. After supper Budi offered cigarettes to Mr. Mlacker.—Mr. Mlacker took them, smoked them and extolled afresh.
On the next day our warder Schmied gave me and Hedrich a cutting to read from the evening edition of the previous day's "Tagblatt". The heading was: "After fifteen years". It said that a week previously the police had arrested and on that day had taken to the military prison Janko Mlacker, an accountant who fifteen years before had absconded to America with 45.000 crowns which he had embezzled. There he had squandered the money, had returned, had knocked about in Austria and Hungary under assum​ed names, and finally had been run to earth. As it was ascertained that he had also evaded his military service, he would be brought before the military court.
It was Hedrich who conveyed this piece of news into the room. It was whispered about, the embezzler was stared at, Papa Declich who had probably formed a corroboration of his forebodings from Hedrich's narrative, snarled a contemptuous "Fallot", and the poor deaf Mlacker began to look at everybody with the gaze of a hounded animal.
Budi did not show himself in the room the whole day. In the evening he arrived in low spirits, complained of headache, did not eat, did not speak, went to bed early, and the next morning told me that this man must be cleared out of the room.
And actually, both of them, the corporal and Mr. Mlacker, were shifted. On to the first floor. The corporal was cheerful, Mr. Mlacker quite furious. He told Hedrich that he knew who had got him out of the room, and let that gentleman beware.
Budi came into supper in good spirits, but when Hedrich informed him of this, he turned pale and was silent.
"Have you been talking a bit freely to him?" I asked.
"Well yes, we did talk about one thing and another" he remarked rather crestfallen.
"The cell is clean again. Karl, give me another bottle of wine" ordered Mr. Fels. The cell is clean again,—yes, but for how long?