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Leacock, Stephen, 1869-1944

"Moonbeams from the Larger Lunacy"


"The janitor," he answered carelessly, "I killed him."
I gave a gasp.
"His resistance," the general went on, "was very slight.
Apparently in this country your janitors are unarmed."
"You killed him?" I asked.
"We Prussians," said Bernhardi, "when we wish an immediate
access anywhere, always kill the janitor. It is quicker:
and it makes for efficiency. It impresses them with a
sense of our Furchtbarkeit. You have no word for that in
English, I believe?"
"Not outside of a livery stable," I answered.
There was a pause. I was thinking of the janitor. It
seemed in a sort of way--I admit that I have a sentimental
streak in me--a deplorable thing.
"Sit down," I said presently.
"Thank you," answered the General, but remained standing.
"All right," I said, "do it."
"Thank you," he repeated, without moving.
"I forgot," I said. "Perhaps you CAN'T sit down."
"Not very well," he answered; "in fact, we Prussian
officers"--here he drew himself up higher still--"never
sit down.


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