'What am I saying--? If that Boege didn't call me a Polish pig, and give me a box on the ears, and say that just as they have beaten the French now, so they will trample us underfoot, for they are the strongest. And I had done nothing to him, but he had asked me who is the greatest person in the world, and I had said it was the Holy Father, but he boxed my ears, and I began to cry, and he called me a Polish pig, and said that just as they have beaten the French....' Franek was beginning it all over again,--'and he said, and I said,'--but Magda covered his mouth with her hand, and she herself, turning to Bartek, exclaimed:-- 'Do you hear? Do you hear? Go to the French war, then let a German beat your child like a dog!--Curse him! Go to the war, and let this Swabian kill your child!--You have your reward!... May....' Here Magda, moved by her own eloquence, also began to cry to Franek's accompaniment. Bartek stared open-mouthed with astonishment, and could not bring out a single word, or comprehend in the least what had happened. How was this? And what of his victories?--He sat on in silence for some moments, then suddenly something leaped into his eyes, and the blood rushed to his face. With ignorant people astonishment, like terror, often turns to rage. Bartek sprang up suddenly, and jerked out through his clenched teeth:-- 'I will talk to him!' And he went out. It was not far to go; the school lay close to the church. Herr Boege was just standing in front of the verandah, surrounded by a herd of young pigs, to which he was throwing pieces of bread. He was a tall man, about fifty years of age, still as vigorous as an oak. He was not particularly stout, but his face was very fat, and he had a pair of very protruding eyes which expressed courage and energy. Bartek went up to him very quickly. 'German, why have you been beating my child? _Was?_' he asked. Herr Boege took a few steps backwards, measured him with a glance without a shade of fear, and said phlegmatically:-- 'Begone, Polish prize-fighter!' 'Why have you been beating my child?' repeated Bartek. 'I will beat you too, you low Polish scoundrel! I will show you who is master here. Go to the devil, go to the law,--begone!' Bartek, having seized the schoolmaster by the shoulder, began to shake him roughly, crying in a hoarse voice:-- 'Do you know who I am? Do you know who did for the French? Do you know who talked to Steinmetz? Why do you beat my child, you cursed Swabian dog?' Herr Boege's protruding eyes glared no less than Bartek's, but Boege was a strong man, and he resolved to free himself from his assailant by a single blow. This blow descended with a loud smack on the face of the victor of Gravelotte and Sedan.