to hang my solicitor.

SCHNEIDEKIND. Be careful, sir: these are dangerous views to utter
nowadays. What if I were to betray you?

STRAMMFEST. What!

SCHNEIDEKIND. I won't, of course: my own father goes on just like
that; but suppose I did?

STRAMMFEST [chuckling]. I should accuse you of treason to the
Revolution, my lad; and they would immediately shoot you, unless
you cried and asked to see your mother before you died, when they
would probably change their minds and make you a brigadier.
Enough. [He rises and expands his chest.] I feel the better for
letting myself go. To business. [He takes up a telegram: opens
it: and is thunderstruck by its contents.] Great heaven! [He
collapses into his chair. This is the worst blow of all.

SCHNEIDEKIND. What has happened? Are we beaten?

STRAMMFEST. Man, do you think that a mere defeat could strike me
down as this news does: I, who have been defeated thirteen times
since the war began? O, my master, my master, my Panjandrum! [he
is convulsed with sobs.]

SCHNEIDEKIND. They have killed him?

STRAMMFEST. A dagger has been struck through his heart--