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Updated: May 8, 2025
Jacob Pilzer is most bellicose; he chafes at inaction, while they all suffer the discomforts of an empty factory building in the rear of South La Tir which has become a temporary barracks.
"I'm sorry for his old father and mother. I'm a father myself." "I certainly had a good farewell kick at him!" declared Pilzer. "Lean on yourself!" he added, giving a shove to the old reservist who was next him. "I saw men who had ceased to be human.
When Hugo stumbled over a stone he whispered: "White Liver, that comes from the shaking knees of a coward!" Hugo did not answer, nor did he after they had crossed the road and were under the cover of the fourth terrace wall, and Pilzer whispered: "Still with us, little White Liver? Cowards are lucky. But your time will come. You will die of fright."
There was no longer any command, no longer any cohesion, except of legs struggling in and out over the uneven footing of dead and wounded, while they felt another pressure, that of the mass of the Browns in pursuit. Of all those of Fracasse's company whom we know, only the judge's son and Jacob Pilzer were alive.
"Take him home to mother!" groaned Pilzer. "That will do for you, Hugo Mallin!" came another interruption, a sharp one from Captain Fracasse, who had returned unobserved from the rear in time to overhear Hugo's remarks. "And that's the way to talk, Aronson and Pilzer. As for you, Mallin, I've a mind to put you under arrest and send you back for a coward! A coward do you hear?"
While Pilzer and Aronson were not thinking, only running, Peterkin was thinking with the rapidity of a man falling from a high building. Worse! He did not know how far he had to go. He was certain only that he was bound to strike ground. "An inch is as good as a mile!" He recollected the captain's teaching.
I'd like to kiss a pretty maid servant!" Pilzer added, starting toward the hall. "Stop!" cried Hugo, forcing his way in front of Pilzer. He was like no one of the Hugos of the many parts that his comrades had seen him play. His blue eyes had become an inflexible gray. He was standing half on tiptoe, his quivering muscles in tune with the quivering pitch of his voice: a Hugo in anger!
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