“I have come in for the long one,” thought Cousin Hans, “but never mind! [Note: In English in the original.] I love her.”
“Be so good as to take a seat on the bench here,” continued the captain, whose heart was rejoiced at the thought of so intelligent a hearer, “and I shall try to give you in short outline a picture of that momentous and remarkable battle—if it interests you?”
“Many thanks, sir,” answered Cousin Hans, “nothing could interest me more. But I’m afraid you’ll find it terribly hard work to make it clear to a poor, ignorant civilian.”
“By no means; the whole thing is quite simple and easy, if only you are first familiar with the lay of the land,” the amiable old gentleman assured him, as he took his seat at Hans’s side, and cast an inquiring glance around.
While they were thus seated, Cousin Hans examined the captain more closely, and he could not but admit that in spite of his sixty years, Captain Schrappe was still a handsome man. He wore his short, iron-gray mustaches a little turned up at the ends, which gave him a certain air of youthfulness. On the whole, he bore a strong resemblance to King Oscar the First on the old sixpenny-pieces.
And as the captain rose and began his dissertation, Cousin Hans decided in his own mind that he had every reason to be satisfied with his future father-in-law’s exterior.
The captain took up a position in a corner of the ramparts, a few paces from the bench, whence he could point all around him with a stick. Cousin Hans followed what he said, closely, and took all possible trouble to ingratiate himself with his future father-in-law.
“We will suppose, then, that I am standing here at the farm of Belle-Alliance, where the Emperor has his headquarters; and to the north-fourteen miles from Waterloo—we have Brussels, that is to say, just about at the corner of the gymnastic-school.
“The road there along the rampart is the highway leading to Brussels, and here,” the captain rushed over the plain of Waterloo, “here in the grass we have the Forest of Soignies. On the highway to Brussels, and in front of the forest, the English are stationed—you must imagine the northern part of the battle-field somewhat higher than it is here. On Wellington’s left wing, that is to say, to the eastward—here in the grass—we have the Château of Hougoumont; that must be marked,” said the captain, looking about him.
The serviceable Cousin Hans at once found a stick, which was fixed in the ground at this important point.