Kessel, finishing his liqueur, broke in calmly:
"A geographer who didn't understand the handling of a field gun."
Cyrus retorted in scorn:
"Then you prefer the present Grand Duke?"
"I never knew His Highness the Grand Duke Rudolph," replied Kessel, unruffled. "I only know that the first duty of a Grand Duke is to be a Grand Duke, which means perfect familiarity with artillery, heavy and light, so that geographers can work in peace and safety."
The odd thing is that the professor poured out his complaints to Kessel, of whom he stood in visible awe, rather than to me, a Frenchman. I tell you the loyalty of these folk is beyond belief. We in France are never happy except when at loggerheads. But their habit of mind, backed by the Imperial Police, who are admirably organized, makes them sheep, compared to which Panurge's flock was imaginative and refractory.
In the daytime my principal amusement was strolling in Lautenburg. The splendid German uniforms delighted me, though I had moments of dismay over that prodigious display of discipline. Twice a week the band of the 182nd played in the Königsplatz, opposite the theatre. I liked the charming gaucherie of the group of girls I passed. They recalled and exemplified the truth of the old cavalry General von Dewitz's remarks to his aide-de-camp:
"These girls are thoroughbreds, my boy, a real treat to watch! None of your faked demi-women, but mothers, real mothers. I'd answer for whole generations of them. Just look at that buxom wench down there! There's red cheeks for you, and what a stride! A yard if it's an inch! What a treat for an old soldier like me. I like looking at 'em!"[1]
I, too, liked "looking at 'em." The spectacle never failed to please, and that utter docility, that abject acceptance of their destiny, recalled the words of the French officers who passed through here into captivity after the disaster at Sedan:
"Priez une Allemande à s'asseoir. Elle se couchera."