The Good Soldier Svejk (23 page)

Schweik was gazing with interest at that side of the wall where the cage with the canary was hanging, and now, fixing his good-humoured eyes on the lieutenant, he said in that kindly voice of his:

"Beg to report, sir, that's a Harz canary."

And having thus interrupted the lieutenant's oration, Schweik looked him straight in the face without moving an eyelid and standing stiffly at attention.

The lieutenant was about to make some scathing remark, but perceiving the guileless expression on Schweik's countenance, he merely said:

"The Chaplain recommended you as a champion idiot, and I'm inclined to think he wasn't far wrong."

"Beg to report, sir, the Chaplain as a matter of fact wasn't far wrong. When I was doing my regular service, I was discharged as feeble-minded, a chronic case, too. There were two

of us discharged from the regiment for the same reason—me and a Captain von Kaunitz. He was a rum old buffer, he was, sir, if you'll pardon me saying so. When he came with us on the parade ground, he always drew us up as if there was going to be a march-past and then he'd say : 'Now then, er, remember, er, that to-day's, er, Wednesday, because, er, to-morrow'll be Thursday, er.' "

Lieutenant Lukash shrugged his shoulders, like a man who is at a loss to find words to express his thoughts adequately. He paced the room from the door to the window, walking right round Schweik, and back again, during which process Schweik, according to where the lieutenant happened to be, faced eyes right or eyes left with such an emphatic expression of innocence on his face that Lieutenant Lukash looked at the carpet as he remarked :

"Yes, I must have everything clean and tidy. And I can't stand lies. Honesty's the thing for me. I hate a lie and I punish it without mercy. Is that clear?"

"Beg to report, sir, it's quite clear. The worst thing a man can do is to tell lies. As soon as he begins to get in a muddle and contradict himself, he's done for. I think it's always best to be straightforward and own up, and if I've done anything wrong, I just come and say: 'Beg to report, sir, I've done so-and-so.' Oh yes, honesty's a very fine thing, because it pays in the long run. An honest man's respected everywhere; he's satisfied with himself, and he feels like a new-born babe when he goes to bed and can say : 'Well, I've been honest again to-day.' "

During this speech Lieutenant Lukash sat on a chair, looking at Schweik's boots and thinking to himself :

"Ye gods, I suppose I often talk twaddle like that, only perhaps I put it a bit differently."

However, not wishing to impair his authority, he said, when Schweik had concluded :

"Now that you're with me, you've got to keep your boots clean, your uniform spick-and-span, with all the buttons properly sewn on, and, in fact, your get-up must be smart and soldierly. I don't want you to look like a civilian clodhopper. It's a funny thing, but there's none of you can carry himself like a soldier. Of all the orderlies I ever had there was only one who had a

soldierly bearing, and he stole my dress uniform and sold it to an old-clothes dealer."

He paused for a while, and then continued, explaining to Schweik all his duties and laying special stress on how essential it was for him to be trustworthy and never to gossip about what went on in the lieutenant's quarters.

"There are ladies who come to see me," he added, "and sometimes one or the other of them stays all night, when I'm not on duty in the morning. In a case like that, you'll bring coffee for two into the bedroom, when I ring. Do you follow me?"

"Beg to report, sir, I follow you. If I came into the bedroom unexpected-like, it might be awkward for the lady. I remember once I took a young woman home with me, and just as we were getting on fine together, my charwoman brought in the coffee. She didn't half have a fright and poured all the coffee down my back. Oh, I know what's what when a lady's in bed."

"That's right, Schweik. We must always be extremely tactful where ladies are concerned," said the lieutenant, who was now getting more cheerful, because the subject was one which occupied all his leisure between barracks, parade ground and gambling.

His quarters revealed marked feminine influence. Numerous ladies had left knickknacks and other adornments as mementoes of their visits. One lady had embroidered a charming antimacassar for him, besides stitching monograms on all his underwear. She would probably have completed a set of wall decorations if her husband had not put a stop to the proceedings. Another had littered his bedroom with all sorts of bric-à-brac and had hung a picture of a guardian angel over his bed. A third had left her traces in the kitchen in the form of various utensils which, together with her passionate attachment, she had brought with her. There were an appliance for chopping vegetables, an apparatus for slicing bread, a mincemeat machine, casseroles, baking pans, tureens, ladles and heaven knows what else.

Lieutenant Lukash also carried on an extensive correspondence. He had an album containing photographs of his lady friends, together with a collection of keepsakes such as numerous garters, four pairs of embroidered knickers, three camisoles of

very delicate material, a number of cambric handkerchiefs, one corset and several stockings.

"I'm on duty to-day," he said. "I shan't be home till late. Tidy up the place and see that everything's put straight. The last orderly was no good at all, and he's leaving to-day with a draft for the front."

When Lieutenant Lukash had gone, Schweik put everything straight, so that when he returned at night, Schweik was able to announce :

"Beg to report, sir, everything's been put straight, except for one little hitch. The cat got into mischief and gobbled up your canary."

"How did that happen?" bellowed the lieutenant.

"Beg to report, sir, it was like this. I knew that cats don't like canaries and do them harm if they get half a chance. So I thought I'd make them better acquainted and if the creature showed signs of getting up to any tricks, I'd give her a walloping that'd make her remember to her dying day how to behave when canaries are about, because I'm as fond of dumb animals as can be. Where I live there's a hatter who's trained a cat so well that whereas she used to gobble up three canaries without turning a hair, she won't touch 'em now, and even lets 'em sit on her tail. Well, I wanted to try my hand at that, so I took the canary out of the cage and let the cat sniff at it. But before I knew what was happening, the damned brute had bitten off the canary's head. Really, I never thought she'd be as low down as that. Now if it'd been a sparrow, sir, I wouldn't have said it, but such a nice Harz canary. And you'd never believe how greedy she was, too. Gobbled it up, feathers and all, and purred away the whole time, as jolly as could be. I've heard that cats haven't got a musical ear and they can't stand a canary singing, because the brutes can't appreciate it. I gave that cat a bit of my mind, that I did, but as God's my witness, I never laid a finger on her. I thought I'd better wait till you decided what to be done to the mangy brute."

While narrating this, Schweik looked the lieutenant in the face so frankly that the latter, who at first had approached him with intent to do him grievous bodily harm, moved away again, sat on a chair and asked :

"Look here, Schweik, are you really such a prize lunatic?"

"Beg to report, sir," replied Schweik solemnly, "I am. I've always been unlucky ever since I was a little kid. Whenever I wanted to do something properly and make a good job of it, it always turned out wrong and got me in a mess. I really did want those two animals to get better acquainted and understand each other, and it's not my fault if the cat gobbled up the canary and spoiled everything. I know a house where some years ago a cat actually gobbled up a parrot, because it laughed at her and mimicked the way she miaoued. But cats are tough brutes, and no mistake. If you want me to do that cat in, sir, I'd have to squash her in the door. That's the only thing that'd do the trick."

And Schweik, with the most innocent face and the kindliest of smiles, explained to the lieutenant how cats can be done in. If the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals had heard him, it would assuredly have foamed at the mouth. He revealed such expert knowledge that Lieutenant Lukash, forgetting his anger, asked :

"Do you know how to treat animals? Are you really fond of them?"

"Well, sir," said Schweik, "I like dogs best, because it's a paying game if you know how to sell them. It's not in my line, because I'm too honest, but people used to come bothering me, all the same, because they said I sold them a pup, as you might say, sir, instead of a sound, thoroughbred dog. As if all dogs can be sound and thoroughbred. And then they always wanted a pedigree, so I had to have pedigrees printed and turn a mongrel, that was born in a brick works, into a pure-bred pedigree dog. Oh, you'd be surprised, sir, at the way all the big dog fanciers swindle their customers over pedigrees. Of course, there ain't many dogs that could truthfully call themselves out-and-out thoroughbreds. Sometimes the mother or the grandmother got mixed up with some mongrel or other, or maybe several, and then the animal takes after each of them. Ears from one, tail from another, whiskers from another, jowls from a fourth, bandy legs from a fifth, size from a sixth; and if a dog had a dozen connections of that sort, you can just about imagine, sir, what he looks like. I once

bought a dog like that, Balaban his name was, and he had so many parents he was that ugly that all the other dogs kept out of his way and I only bought him because I was sorry for the animal being deserted, like. And he used to squat at home all day long in a corner, and he was always so down in the mouth that I had to sell him as a fox terrier. What gave me the most trouble was dyeing him to make him piebald. The man who bought him took him away to Moravia, and I haven't laid eyes on him since."

The lieutenant began to take a great interest in this doggy lore, and so Schweik was able to continue without hindrance:

"Dogs can't dye their own hair, like ladies do, so that's always a job for the one who wants to sell him. When a dog's so old that he's all gray, and you want to sell him as a one-year pup, you buy some silver nitrate, pound it up and then paint the dog black so that he looks like new. And to give him more strength you feed him with arsenic like they do horses, and you clean his teeth with emery paper like they use to clean rusty knives with. And before you show him to a customer, you make him swallow brandy, so that he gets a bit tipsy and then he's merry and bright and barks as jolly as can be, and chums up with everyone, like people do when they're boozed. But this is the most important part of the business, sir. You must talk to the customers, keep on talking to 'em, till they're sort of flabbergasted. If a man wants to buy a house dog and all you've got is a grayhound, you've got to have the gift of the gab, as they say, to talk the man over, so that he takes the grayhound instead of a house dog. Or supposing someone wants a savage bull dog to keep burglars away, you've got to bamboozle him so that instead of a bull dog he takes one of these here midget lap dogs away in his pocket. When I used to deal in animals, there was a lady came one day and said that her parrot had flown away into the front garden and that some boys who were playing at Indians in front of her house had caught this parrot and torn all the feathers out of its tail and decorated themselves with them like policemen. Well, this parrot felt so ashamed at losing his tail that he fell ill and a vet had finished him off with some powders. So she wanted to buy a new parrot, a well-behaved one, not one of those vul-

gar birds that can do nothing but swear. Well, what was I to do, not having any parrot and not knowing where to lay hands on one? But I had a bad-tempered bull dog, quite blind he was, too. And I give you my word, sir, I had to talk to that lady from four in the afternoon till seven in the evening, before she bought the blind bull dog instead of the parrot. That was a more ticklish job than any of their diplomatic stuff, and when she was going away, I said to her : 'Those little boys had better not try to pull
his
tail off.' And that's the last words I spoke to that lady, because she had to move away from Prague on account of that bull dog, because he bit everyone in the house. You wouldn't believe, sir, how hard it is to get hold of a really first-rate animal."

"I'm very fond of dogs," said the lieutenant, "Some of my pals who're at the front have got dogs with them, and they write and tell me that the company of a faithful and devoted animal makes life in the trenches quite pleasant. Well, you seem to have a thorough knowledge of dogs, and I hope that if I have one you'll look after him properly. What breed do you consider the best? I mean, for a dog as a companion. I once had a fox terrier, but I don't know -"

"Oh, I think a fox terrier is a very nice dog, sir. Of course, it's not everyone who takes to them, because they've got bristles and tough whiskers that make them look like discharged convicts. They're so ugly that it makes them look quite handsome, and they're clever animals, too. St. Bernards ain't in it with them. Oh, yes, they're clever and no mistake. I once knew one -"

Lieutenant Lukash looked at his watch and interrupted Schweik's flow of talk.

"Well, it's getting late and I must be off to bed. To-morrow I'm on duty again, so you've got the whole day to find your fox terrier."

He went off to bed, and Schweik lay down on the sofa in the kitchen, where he read the newspapers which the lieutenant had brought with him from the barracks.

"Just fancy," said Schweik to himself, scanning with interest the summary of the day's news, "the Sultan's awarded a war medal to the Kaiser, and I haven't even got the M. M. yet."