"No, no, no," he said, "neither all--nor half--nor a quarter! There's more
behind. I don't understand it--I don't understand it. Thunder and Mars! Why
don't we hand him over to the French Government? That's what puzzles me."
6
The severity of the Winter had, I think, in some degree abated, and the
snowdrops were already above ground, when again a mounted orderly rode in
from Cologne, bringing another official letter for the Governor of Bruehl.
Now my father's duties as Governor of Bruehl were very light--so light that
he had not found it necessary to set apart any special room, or bureau,
for the transaction of such business as might be connected therewith.
When, therefore, letters had to be written or accounts made up, he wrote
those letters and made up those accounts at a certain large writing-table,
fitted with drawers, pigeon-holes, and a shelf for account-books, that
stood in a corner of our sitting-room. Here also, if any persons had to be
received, he received them. To this day, whenever I go back in imagination
to those bygone times, I seem to see my father sitting at that
writing-table nibbling the end of his pen, and one of the sergeants off
guard perched on the edge of a chair close against the door, with his hat
on his knees, waiting for orders.
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