The very smell of the cooking came back to him⁠—the daily sauerkraut, the watery chocolate on Sundays, the flavour of the stringy meat served twice a week at Mittagessen ; and he smiled to think again of the half-rations that was the punishment for speaking English. The very odour of the milk-bowls⁠—the hot sweet aroma that rose from the soaking peasant-bread at the six-o’clock breakfast⁠—came back to him pungently, and he saw the huge Speisesaal with the hundred boys in their school uniform, all eating sleepily in silence, gulping down the coarse bread and scalding milk in terror of the bell that would presently cut them short⁠—and, at the far end where the masters sat, he saw the narrow slit windows with the vistas of enticing field and forest beyond.