Part 18 (1/2)

He could not help smiling at himself, as he stood and wiped his face and neck, adjusted his necktie, and felt his collar, which had melted on the sunny side. But it was a blissful smile, he was in that frame of mind in which one sees, or at any rate apprehends, nothing of the external world; and he said to himself, half aloud, ”Love endures everything, accepts everything.”

”And perspires freely,” said a fat little gentleman whose white waistcoat suddenly came within Cousin Hans's range of vision.

”Oh, is that you, uncle?” he said, a little abashed.

”Of course it is,” answered Uncle Frederick. ”I've left the shady side of the street expressly to save you from being roasted. Come along with me.”

Thereupon he tried to drag his nephew with him, but Hans resisted. ”Do you know who lives at No. 34, uncle?”

”Not in the least; but do let us get into the shade,” said Uncle Frederick; for there were two things he could not endure: heat and laughter--the first on account of his corpulence, and the second on account of what he himself called ”his apoplectic tendencies.”

”By-the-bye,” he said, when they reached the cool side of the street, and he had taken his nephew by the arm, ”now that I think of it, I do know, quite well, who lives in No. 34; it's old Captain Schrappe.”

”Do you know him?” asked Cousin Hans, anxiously.

”Yes, a little, just as half the town knows him, from having seen him on the esplanade, where he walks every day.”

”Yes, that was just where I saw him,” said his nephew. ”What an interesting old gentleman he looks. I should like so much to have a talk with him.”

”That wish you can easily gratify,” answered Uncle Frederick. ”You need only place yourself anywhere on the ramparts and begin drawing lines in the sand, then he'll come to you.”

”Come to you?” said Cousin Hans.

”Yes, he'll come and talk to you. But you must be careful: he's dangerous.”

”Eh?” said Cousin Hans.

”He was once very nearly the end of me.”

”Ah!” said Cousin Hans.

”Yes, with his talk, you understand.”

”Oh?” said Cousin Hans.

”You see, he has two stories,” continued Uncle Frederick, ”the one, about a sham fight in Sweden, is a good half-hour long. But the other, the battle of Waterloo, generally lasts from an hour and a half to two hours. I have heard it three times.” And Uncle Frederick sighed deeply.

”Are they so very tedious, then, these stories? asked Cousin Hans.

”Oh, they're well enough for once in a way,” answered his uncle, ”and if you should get into conversation with the captain, mark what I tell you: If you get off with the short story, the Swedish one, you have nothing to do but alternately to nod and shake your head. You'll soon pick up the lay of the land.”

”The lay of the land?” said Cousin Hans.

”Yes, you must know that he draws the whole manoeuvre for you in the sand; but it's easy enough to understand if only you keep your eye on A and B. There's only one point where you must be careful not to put your foot in it.”

”Does he get impatient, then, if you don't understand?” asked Cousin Hans.

”No, quite the contrary; but if you show that you're not following, he begins at the beginning again, you see! The crucial point in the sham fight,” continued his uncle, ”is the movement made by the captain himself, in spite of the general's orders, which equally embarra.s.sed both friends and foes. It was this stroke of genius, between ourselves, which forced them to give him the Order of the Sword, to induce him to retire. So when you come to this point, you must nod violently, and say: 'Of course--the only reasonable move--the key to the position.' Remember that--the key.”

”The key,” repeated Cousin Hans.