A moment later I was introduced to him, and he rose to shake hands—a tall, fair, good-natured German student. Heavy if you will—but clean withal, and of a cleanly mind.
“Honour,” he muttered politely. “It is not often we have an English student at Gottingen—but perhaps we can teach you something—eh?” And he broke into a boyish laugh. “You will take beer?” he added, drawing forward an iron chair—for we were in the Brauerei Garden.
“Thank you.”
“A doctor of medicine—the Herr Professor tells me,” he said pleasantly. “Prosit,” he added, as he raised his great mug to his lips.
“Prosit! Yes, a doctor of medicine—of the army.”
“Ah, of the army, that is good. I also I hope, some day! And you come to pass our Gottingen examination. Yes, but it is hard—ach Gott!—devilish hard.”
There was a restrained shyness about the man which I liked. Shy men are so rare. And, although he could have cleared the Brauerei Garden in five minutes, there was no bluster about this Teutonic Hercules. His loud, good-natured laugh was perhaps the most striking characteristic of Carl von Mendebach. Next to that, his readiness to be surprised at everything or anything, and to class it at once as colossal. Hence the nickname by which he was known amongst us. The term was applied to me a thousand times—figuratively. For I am a small man, as I have had reason to deplore more than once while carrying the wounded out of action. It takes so much longer if one is small.
I cannot exactly say why Carl von Mendebach and I became close friends; but I do not think that Lisa von Mendebach had anything to do with it. I was never in love with Lisa, although I admired her intensely, and I never see a blue-eyed, fair-haired girl to this day without thinking of Lischen. But I was not in love with her. I was never good-looking. I did not begin by expecting much from the other sex, and I have never been in love with anybody. I wonder if Lisa remembers me.
The students were pleasant enough fellows. It must be recollected that I speak of a period dating back before the war of 1870—before there was a German Empire. I soon made a sort of place for myself at the University, and I was tolerated good-naturedly. But Carl did more than tolerate me. He gave me all the friendship of his simple heart. Without being expansive—for he was a Hanoverian—he told me all about himself, his thoughts and his aims, an open-hearted ambition and a very Germanic contentment with a world which contained beer and music. Then at last he told me all about his father, General von Mendebach, and Lisa. Finally he took me to his house one evening to supper.
“Father,” he said in his loud, cheery way, “here is the Englishman—a good friend of mine—a great scholar—golossa-a-l.”