Fresh, vigorous puffs from the meerschaum accompanied these words.
“When the cadets came down at recreation time those who were good friends together met and would go walking arm in arm around the ‘Karreehof’ and toward the court where the trees stood, and so it was always until the trumpet sounded for return to work.
“Big L—well—he attached himself just wherever he could find attachment, and stalked sullenly ahead by himself—Little L, on the contrary, almost before he could reach the court was seized under the arm by two or three big fellows and compelled to walk with them. And they were Primaners at that. For ordinarily, you must know, it never occurred to a Primaner to go with a ‘Knapsack,’ or Plebe, from the Sekunda; it was far beneath his dignity; but with Little L it was different, there an exception was made. And yet he was no less loved by the Sekundaner than by the Primaner. One could see that in class, where we Sekundaner boys, you know, were by ourselves. In class we were ranged according to alphabet, so that the two L’s sat together very nearly in the centre.
“In their lessons they stood pretty nearly even. Big L had a good head for mathematics; in other things he was not of much account, but in mathematics he was, as you might say, a ‘shark,’ and Little L, who was not strong in mathematics, used to ‘crib’ from his brother. In all other respects Little L was ahead of his older brother, and in fact one of the best in his class. And right here appeared the difference between the brothers; Big L kept his knowledge to himself, and never prompted; Little L, he prompted, he fairly shouted—yes, to be sure he did—.”
A tender smile passed over the face of the old man.
“If any one on the front form was called upon and did not know the answer—Little L hissed right across all the forms what he ought to say: when it came the turn of the back benches little L spoke the answer half-aloud to himself.
“There was there an old professor from whom we took Latin. During nearly every lesson he would stop short in the middle of the class; ‘L No. II,’ he would say, ‘you are prompting again! And that, too, in a most shameless fashion. Have a care, L No. II, next time I will make an example of you. I say it to you now for the last time!’”
The old colonel laughed to himself. “But it always remained the next to last time, and the example was never made. For though Little L was no model boy, more often quite the contrary, he was loved by both teachers and officers as well—but how indeed could it have been otherwise? He was always in high spirits, as if receiving a new present every day, yet nothing ever got sent to him, for the father of the two was in desperately poor circumstances, a major in some infantry regiment or other, and the boys received hardly a groschen (24 cents) for pocket money. And always as if just peeled out of the egg, so fresh—without and within—eh, eh, altogether—”
Here the colonel paused, as if searching for an expression that would contain the whole of his love for this former little comrade.
“As if Nature had been for once in a proudly good-humor,” he said, “and had stood that little fellow upright on his feet and cried: ‘There you have him!’