Having received these answers, my father stood silent, as if revolving some
difficult matter in his thoughts. Then, his mind being made up, he turned
again to the orderly and said:--
"Dine--feed your horse--and come back in an hour for the answer."
Thankful to be dismissed, the man saluted and vanished. My father had a
rapid, stern way of speaking to subordinates, that had in general the
effect of making them glad to get out of his presence as quickly as
possible.
Then he read the despatch for the third time; turned to his writing-table;
dropped into his chair; and prepared to write.
But the task, apparently, was not easy. Watching him from the fireside
corner where I was sitting on a low stool with an open story-book upon my
lap, I saw him begin and tear up three separate attempts. The fourth,
however, seemed to be more successful. Once written, he read it over,
copied it carefully, called to me for a light, sealed his letter, and
addressed it to "His Excellency the Baron von Bulow."
This done, he enclosed it under cover to "General Berndorf, Cologne"; and
had just sealed the outer cover when the orderly came back. My father gave
it to him with scarcely a word, and two minutes after, we heard him
clattering out of the courtyard at a hand-gallop.
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