"We had hardly finished, when an old thin fellow entered the room, who I now saw must be more than a common soldier. He was a sergeant. He carried a soldier's uniform on his arm, which he spread upon the table, laid beside it a six groschen piece, and said: 'That is for you, my son! I will bring you directly some ammunition bread.' 'What? for me?' answered I, 'from whom? what for?' 'Why your uniform and pay, lad! what's the use of asking questions? You are a recruit.' 'How? what? a recruit?' answered I; 'God forbid! I have never thought of such a thing. No, never in my life. I am Markoni's servant. That was what I agreed for and nothing else. No man can tell me otherwise.' 'But I tell you, fellow, that you are a soldier, I can answer for that. There is no help for it.' I: 'Ah, if my master Markoni were but here!' He: 'You will not soon get a sight of him. Would you not rather be a servant to our King, than to his lieutenant?' Therewith he went away. 'For God's sake, Herr Zittermann,' I continued, 'what does this mean?' 'Nothing, sir,' answered he, 'but that you, like I, and the other gentlemen there, are soldiers, and consequently all brothers, and that no opposition will avail, except to take you to the guard-house, where you will have bread and water, have your hands bound, and be flogged till your ribs crack, and you are satisfied.' I: 'By my troth that would be shameful, wicked!' He: 'Believe me upon my word it will be so, and nothing else.' I: 'Then I will complain to the King.' Here they all laughed loud. He: 'You will never see him.' I: 'To whom else can I complain?' He: 'To our Major, if you choose. But that will be all in vain.' I: 'I will try, however, whether it will avail!' The lads laughed again." (The Major kicked him out with blows.)