Bloemstein summoned his faithful councillors at once, in order to open the official document in their midst. The ministers hastened to the council-chamber, as fast as their legs could carry them. They took up positions behind their President, and stuck their heads together, trying to see with their own eyes the answer from the German Empire.
With trembling hand Bloemstein opened the missive, and in a voice quivering with emotion, he began to read, in German:—
“Verehrter Herr Präsident.
“In reply to your letter, I have received orders from my Emperor to declare war on your Republic, and send off an army of 150,000 men to the frontier, because—
“1. You have caused postage-stamps to be made without permission from the German Government.
“2. It is known to us that you have been taking upon yourself to oppose your daughter’s marriage to our loyal subject, Dr Heinrich Olthausen.
“3. You want to force that charming and lovely girl to marry an objectionable, crooked tailor.
“We give you a week to comply with our conditions.
“Bismarck.”
There was a moment’s painful silence. There it was, in great fat round letters—“Bismarck.” There was no possible doubt about it.