In the first they had him thrown out by a dispenser.
In the second they wanted to telephone for an ambulance. And in the third the head of the surgery said that Polaks Ltd in Dlouha Avenue, a firm dealing in oil and lacquers, would certainly have in stock the oil he wanted.
Polaks Ltd in Dlouha Avenue was a very efficient firm.
They never let a customer go without satisfying his requirements.
If he wanted copaiba balsam they poured out turpentine for him and that did just as well.
When Svejk came in and asked for ten crowns' worth of oil consecrated by a bishop, the manager said to the assistant:
'Pour him out a gill of hempseed oil number three, Mr Tauchen.'
And the assistant, wrapping the bottle up in paper, said to Svejk in a completely business-like way:
'It's of the finest quality.
If you would like a paint-brush, lacquer or varnish, don't hesitate to apply to us. We shall serve you reliably.'
In the meantime the chaplain was learning up again in the catechism what he had forgotten from his time at the seminary.
He enjoyed very much some unusually witty sentences which made him laugh heartily:
'The name "extreme" or "last unction" derives from the fact that this unction is usually the last of all the unctions which the church administers to anyone.' Or:
'Extreme unction may be received by every Catholic Christian who is seriously ill and has at last come to his senses.'
'The patient is to receive extreme unction, if possible, while his memory still holds.'
Then an orderly came with a packet, in which the chaplain was informed that the next day extreme unction would be attended by the Association of Gentlewomen for the Religious Education of the Troops.
This association consisted of hysterical old women who distributed to the soldiers in the hospitals icons of saints and stories about a Catholic warrior dying for His Imperial Majesty.
These stories had a coloured illustration of a battlefield.
There were lying about everywhere human corpses and horse carcasses, overturned munition trains and gun carriages.
On the horizon villages were burning and shrapnel bursting.
In the foreground lay a dying soldier with his leg torn off.
An angel was bending over him and bringing him a wreath with the inscription on the ribbon:
'This very day you will be with me in paradise.'
And the dying man was smiling blissfully, as though they were bringing him an ice cream.
When Otto Katz had read the contents of the packet he spat and reflected:
'Tomorrow is going to be some day.'
He knew the harpies, as he called them, from the church of St Ignatius, where years ago he used to preach to the troops.
At that time he used to put a lot of feeling into his sermons, and the 'Association' used to sit behind the colonel.
Two tall and skinny women in black dresses with rosaries once came up to him after the sermon and talked to him for two hours about the religious education of the troops, until he got angry and said to them:
'Excuse me, my good ladies, the captain's expecting me for a game of farbl.'
'And so here's the oil,' said Svejk solemnly, when he returned from Pohiks Ltd. 'Hempseed oil number three, finest quality.
We can anoint a whole battalion with it.
The firm is a reliable one.
It sells varnish, lacquer and brushes as well.
Now we only need a bell.'
'Why a bell, Svejk?'
'We have to ring it on the way, so that people take their hats off to us when we transport the Lord, sir, with this hempseed oil number three.
It's always done, and very many people, to whom it meant nothing, have been put in gaol because they didn't take their hats off.
On a similar occasion in Zizkov a vicar once beat a blind man because he didn't take his hat off and he was put in gaol too, because they proved to him before the courts that he was not deaf and dumb, but only blind, and that he had heard the ringing of the bell and caused a scandal, although it was at night time.
That's just like at Corpus Christi.
At another time people would never look at us, but now they'll take their hats off to us.
If you don't mind, sir, I'll fetch it at once.'
Having obtained permission Svejk produced a bell in half an hour.
'It's from the door of the roadside inn U Krizkii,' he said.
'It cost me just five minutes' panic, and I had to wait a long time, because people never stopped going by.'
'I'm going to the cafe, Svejk.
If anybody should come, tell him to 'vait.'
About an hour later there arrived an elderly grey-haired gentleman of erect carriage and stern countenance.
His whole appearance exhaled cold anger and rage.
He looked as if he had been sent by fate to destroy our miserable planet and to obliterate all traces of it in the universe.