"Certainly not," replied the War Lord, pulling himself up straight. "I merely insinuate that my wishes with regard to the running of the plant are her own; consequently, I do as I like at Essen."
The War Lord raised his riding-whip in the direction of the Master of the Horse, trotting behind, whereupon that functionary gave spur and galloped ahead. Thirty seconds later the advance guard wheeled right and left, drawing up at the sides of the avenue, and leaving a clear space for Wilhelm and Franz.
"May they enjoy the dust we are kicking up," laughed the War Lord, as they pressed on. When, on their return to the palace, the General Staff building was in sight, Wilhelm consulted his wristwatch. "Gottlieb's tea hour," he said quite incidentally. "Suppose we stop and have a cup!"
He referred to Count Haeseler, sometimes called the German Galliffet, though as a cavalry officer in active service his epaulettes never knew more than two stars. However, subsequently he won much fame as an administrator and organiser, and, by catering to the War Lord's love for mounted rifles, dragoons, hussars and uhlans, enjoyed rapid and steady advancement. Still, having a will of his own and small hesitation to state it when goaded to opposition, he might never have achieved the supreme honour of field marshalship had he not been in his youth the favourite adjutant of the War Lord's "sanctified uncle," the Red Prince Frederick Charles, father of the Duchess of Connaught.
In the War Lord's opinion, Frederick Charles ranked next to his Herr Grossvater (Mister Grandfather), and whenever Wilhelm became too insistent on some strategic madness of his own, Haeseler had but to say: "That's one of the things His Royal Highness was most strenuously opposed to," to cause the Imperial nephew to cave in.
Of course, the meeting with Franz Este had been prearranged, but Haeseler played the surprised to perfection: Too bad Imperial Highness was incog.; otherwise he might run over to Posen to inspect his regiment, the Tenth Hussars. He (Haeseler) had just had that pleasure. Schneidig, grossartig (cutting, immense), and Haeseler knocked his heels together. "Horses, men, uniforms, drill, perfect as new-laid eggs."
"Hard boiled, I hope," said the War Lord; and all three shook with laughter.
"And what may my marshal have been doing?" asked the War Lord.
"Reading up the testament of Frederick the Great."
"Any relation to the testament of Peter the Great?" asked Franz anxiously.