The man neither winced nor complained.
"For those words," the commandant screamed at him in German, "you shall not die in comfort! For that insolence, mere hanging is too good!" Then he calmed himself a little, and repeated the words in the native tongue, explaining to the crowd that German dignity should be upheld at all costs.
"Fetch him down from there," he ordered.
Schubert sprang on the table and knocked the condemned man off it with a blow of his fist.

With hands bound behind him the poor fellow had no power of balance, and though he jumped clear he fell face-downward, skinning his cheek on the gravel.

The commandant promptly put a foot on his neck and pinned him down.
"Flog him!" he ordered.

"Two hundred lashes!" It was done in silence, except for the corporal's labored breathing and the commandant's incessant sharp commands to beat harder--harder--harder.

A sergeant stood by counting.