The door was burst open; two
soldiers entered dragging with them a man--a peasant; his eyes were
staring, his face blanched. We then noticed that he was holding his
shoulders in a curious manner, and realized that his arms were bound
with his own belt. The two soldiers pushed him into an inner room, but
the officials were busy, so he was stood in a corner.
"What has he done?" we asked.
"We have only bread for soldiers," repeated the commandant. Bread was
evidently the most important.
"We have a Government order."
He scanned it, pounced upon the three franc phrase and offered us money.
We pointed out that bread was indicated to the value--
"We have no bread for the English," he said at last.
Jo once more made the nasty little speech which we had found so
effective at Kralievo. It worked like a charm. An enormous sack filled
with loaves was dragged out and from it he choose three. We mentioned
the man once more. The commandant shrugged his shoulders.
"He's going to be killed," he said.
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