Mistress. "OH, JANE, HOW DID YOU DO THAT?" Maid. "I'M VERY SORRY, MUM; I WAS ACCIDENTALLY DUSTING."
THE SCHLOSS BILLET.
We had not expected much of a billet in a defeated and starving country; that was probably why everybody was enthusiastic over it—at first. I, as billeting officer, was especially proud of having discovered it. The very thing for Brigade Headquarters—secluded, dignified, commanding and spacious.
A couple of kilos from the gates through the drive brings you to the Schloss. Entering a hall about the size of a modern theatre you journey to the ante-room, a vast apartment, which for space compares favourably with the Coliseum at Rome. A world-exhibition of pictures and tapestries covers the walls of the Schloss, while an acre or two of painted ceiling shows the chief events of German history, from the Creation to the Franco-Prussian War.
In the Dining-room, reached by a progress over carpets and rugs representative of all the best periods of Oriental art, it would be fairly easy to stage a review on the table itself; while in the Music-room a hundred or so lorries could be parked without attracting observation too glaringly. Should the need arise, the Library could accommodate a battalion on parade, a rifle range or sufficient office room for Q branch of a division. A labyrinth of corridors and servants' bedrooms harbours the rank and file, and it is said that the number of kitchens, pantries and cellars in the north and east wings runs into three figures.
The Divisional Commander called it "homely"; the Corps Commander remarked that its style was "not cramped, anyhow—what?" and the Army Commander pronounced it very "cosy."
The first two days I did not see my servant at all. On Wednesday he turned up just before lunch. On Monday and Tuesday, he explained, he had wandered through corridors and passages trying to find my room, and, by rising an hour before reveille, he thought he would be able to get from his quarters to mine by about breakfast-time.