The Good Soldier Svejk

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Authors: Jaroslav Hašek
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the monarchy out of its fix.
    When Schweik received notice that within a week he was to present himself for medical examination, he was in bed with another attack of rheumatism.
    Mrs. Muller wae making him coffee in the kitchen.
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    "Mrs. Mùller," came Schweik's tranquil voice from the bedroom. "Mrs. Muller, come here a moment."
    When the charwoman was standing by his bedside, Schweik said in the same tranquil tones : "Sit down, Mrs. Muller."
    There was something mysteriously solemn in his voice.
    When Mrs. Muller had sat down, Schweik sat up in bed and announced : "I'm going to join the army."
    "My gracious me !" exclaimed Mrs. Muller, "and what are you going to do there?"
    "Fight," replied Schweik in a sepulchral voice. "Austria's in a bad way. Up in the North we've got our work cut out to keep them away from Cracow, and down in the South they'll be all over Hungary if we don't get busy soon. Things look very black whichever way you turn, and that's why they're calling me up. Why, only yesterday I read in the paper that clouds are gathering above our beloved country."
    "But you can't walk."
    "That doesn't matter, Mrs. Muller, I'll join the army in a Bath chair. You know that confectioner round the corner, he's got the kind of thing I want. Years and years ago he used to wheel his lame grandfather—a bad-tempered old buffer he was too—in it, for a breath of fresh air. That's the Bath chair you're going to wheel me to the army in, Mrs. Miiller."
    Mrs. Miiller burst into tears. "Hadn't I better run for the doctor, sir?"
    "Not a bit of it. Except for my legs I'm a sound piece of cannon fodder, and at a time when Austria's in a mess, every cripple must be at his post. Just you go on making the coffee."
    And while Mrs. Miiller, tear-stained and flustered, was straining the coffee, the good soldier Schweik began to warble in bed :
    "General Windischgraets and all his commanders Started the battle at the break of day; Hop, hop, hop !
    They started the battle and began to pray: Help us, O Lord, with the Virgin Mary; Hop, hop, hop!"
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    Mrs. Mùller, scared by this dreadful battle song, forgot about the coffee, and trembling from head to foot, listened in terror to the good soldier Schweik, who went on warbling in bed :
    "With the Virgin Mary and the -four bridges here, Piedmont, look out, for your end is near; Hop, hop, hop!
    There at Solferino a battle began, Lots of blood was shed, knee-deep it ran; Hop, hop, hop!
    Knee-deep ran the blood and corpses by the load, The boys of the Eighteenth, their derring-do they showed; Hop, hop, hop!
    The boys of the Eighteenth, don't be afraid, A waggon-load of money is coming to your aid; Hop, hop, hop!"
    "Goodness, gracious, Mr. Schweik, please don't," could be heard a pitiable voice from the kitchen, but Schweik concluded his war song :
    "A waggon-load of money and a cartful of stew, What other regiment could do as much as you? Hop, hop, hop!"
    Mrs. Miiller rushed out of doors and ran for the doctor. When he returned an hour later, Schweik was dozing. He was aroused from his slumbers by a portly gentleman who held his hand on Schweik's forehead for a moment and said :
    "Pray don't be alarmed. I'm Dr. Pavek from Vinohrady— Show me your hand—Put this thermometer under your arm —that's right—Show me your tongue—More of it—Keep it still—What did your father and mother die of?"
    And thus it came about that at the time when Vienna desired all the nations of Austria-Hungary to show the most sterling examples of fidelity and devotion, Dr. Pavek was prescribing bromide for Schweik's patriotic enthusiasm and recommending the undaunted and worthy warrior Schweik not to think about the army.
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    "Continue in a recumbent posture and keep your mind at rest. I will return to-morrow."
    When he came the next day, he asked Mrs. Muller in the kitchen how the patient was getting on.
    "He's worse, Doctor," she replied, with genuine concern. "In the night, when his rheumatism came on, he was

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