|One day, an old woman approached the drunken soldier.
"Oh, poor soul. I feel thy suffering."
"And you are?"
"To ease thy pain, that which you can't feign, takes but a flower for those whom you've slain."
He shouted at the old woman.
|"What nonsense! I am not bad. They are the inferior race. It is God's will for our kind, the civilized race, to destroy the barbarians."
In his anger the soldier shot the old woman.