accumulated in thirty years of flourishing legal practice. On the other hand, it contained a good fifty treasures, collected from all over the world, any one of which was worth a small fortune: Giesinger stinted neither money nor effort to transform his residence into a private museum.
Now he was seriously considering whether there was any chance of dismantling part of the fireplace and packing it home in a big chest. He mentioned the idea to Captain Hardorff, whom he had invited over for a drink, when the latter arrived.
Knowing Giesinger's hobbyhorse, Hardorff, a lanky man with grey hair, smiled. "The pillars perhaps. Only I'm afraid they wouldn't survive the journey, traveling conditions being what they are."
"No, I suppose they wouldn't," said Giesinger. He took Hardorff by the arm and led him to the table where drinks were set up.
The room was at the back of the house, and had a view on to a large park, which formed part of the grounds. Giesinger went quickly over to the window and looked out. "It's snowing," he said in dismay.
"So it is. Bad for Schmitt."
Giesinger bit his lip. Then he drew the heavy curtains, saying: "Had to expect it." He got one of the bottles, filled the glasses and sat down. "You didn't open your mouth once the whole conference," he remarked.
Hardorff took a sip from his glass. "I know. But what can a dyed-in-the-wool bureaucrat like me say? I can figure out for you exactly the number of superfluous forms that are filled in the division on an average day, but if you ask me how to catch partisans, I'm out of my depth."
Giesinger was disappointed. He needed someone who could help him regain his self-confidence. "What would you have done in my place?" he asked.
"Probably the same as you. As to Herr Fuchs—but I needn't say anything against him, you can do that much better than I can. Only I feel you let him impress you too much."
"If that's what you feel, you're quite wrong. Herr Fuchs doesn't impress me one little bit. I'm not thinking of him, but the others. They're all against me."
"Appearances are deceptive, you shouldn't get wrought up like this. Hepp's with you, for instance."
"Did he tell you so?"
Hardorff nodded. "We discussed it afterward. I know that goes for Pfeiffer and Hartung too. You needn't care what the rest think."
Giesinger felt slightly relieved. He set great store by Hardorff's opinion. Since he discovered Hardorff s keen interest in his own hobby, he had several times invited him to share a bottle of wine, and they had agreed to continue their acquaintance after the war. Hardorff was a confirmed bachelor with a great taste for literature and art, and an amazing grasp of their history. Giesinger felt something almost like friendship for him; their conversations were seldom intended for other ears.
"You can't rely on their chatter," Giesinger said now. "They talk like that to you because they know you and I are friendly. Hepp, for instance, is typical. I know exactly what he thinks of me and how he usually talks about me. Let him—it doesn't matter in this kind of situation. What does matter is the fact that we have a bit more brain than the others. Look at our higher staff officers till now, they were brainy enough and yet. . . ."
The telephone rang. Giesinger went to the desk, and announced on returning to his chair: "That was Colonel Hopper. He says his battalions are hearing powerful engines, probably tanks, on the Russian side, and he wants to send out a patrol. He reports a lot of activity over there."
"In this weather?"
"That's what I said. The people up there may have been hearing anything. Our own artillery perhaps."
"Did he ask for the general?"
Giesinger nodded angrily. "What was I to tell him? Corps doesn't want it talked about."
"Colonel Wieland will be pretty staggered when he hears."
"He will indeed. He's known the general since 1916, they were in the first war together." He noticed that Hardorff had finished his glass. "Sorry, I'm a bad
Now he was seriously considering whether there was any chance of dismantling part of the fireplace and packing it home in a big chest. He mentioned the idea to Captain Hardorff, whom he had invited over for a drink, when the latter arrived.
Knowing Giesinger's hobbyhorse, Hardorff, a lanky man with grey hair, smiled. "The pillars perhaps. Only I'm afraid they wouldn't survive the journey, traveling conditions being what they are."
"No, I suppose they wouldn't," said Giesinger. He took Hardorff by the arm and led him to the table where drinks were set up.
The room was at the back of the house, and had a view on to a large park, which formed part of the grounds. Giesinger went quickly over to the window and looked out. "It's snowing," he said in dismay.
"So it is. Bad for Schmitt."
Giesinger bit his lip. Then he drew the heavy curtains, saying: "Had to expect it." He got one of the bottles, filled the glasses and sat down. "You didn't open your mouth once the whole conference," he remarked.
Hardorff took a sip from his glass. "I know. But what can a dyed-in-the-wool bureaucrat like me say? I can figure out for you exactly the number of superfluous forms that are filled in the division on an average day, but if you ask me how to catch partisans, I'm out of my depth."
Giesinger was disappointed. He needed someone who could help him regain his self-confidence. "What would you have done in my place?" he asked.
"Probably the same as you. As to Herr Fuchs—but I needn't say anything against him, you can do that much better than I can. Only I feel you let him impress you too much."
"If that's what you feel, you're quite wrong. Herr Fuchs doesn't impress me one little bit. I'm not thinking of him, but the others. They're all against me."
"Appearances are deceptive, you shouldn't get wrought up like this. Hepp's with you, for instance."
"Did he tell you so?"
Hardorff nodded. "We discussed it afterward. I know that goes for Pfeiffer and Hartung too. You needn't care what the rest think."
Giesinger felt slightly relieved. He set great store by Hardorff's opinion. Since he discovered Hardorff s keen interest in his own hobby, he had several times invited him to share a bottle of wine, and they had agreed to continue their acquaintance after the war. Hardorff was a confirmed bachelor with a great taste for literature and art, and an amazing grasp of their history. Giesinger felt something almost like friendship for him; their conversations were seldom intended for other ears.
"You can't rely on their chatter," Giesinger said now. "They talk like that to you because they know you and I are friendly. Hepp, for instance, is typical. I know exactly what he thinks of me and how he usually talks about me. Let him—it doesn't matter in this kind of situation. What does matter is the fact that we have a bit more brain than the others. Look at our higher staff officers till now, they were brainy enough and yet. . . ."
The telephone rang. Giesinger went to the desk, and announced on returning to his chair: "That was Colonel Hopper. He says his battalions are hearing powerful engines, probably tanks, on the Russian side, and he wants to send out a patrol. He reports a lot of activity over there."
"In this weather?"
"That's what I said. The people up there may have been hearing anything. Our own artillery perhaps."
"Did he ask for the general?"
Giesinger nodded angrily. "What was I to tell him? Corps doesn't want it talked about."
"Colonel Wieland will be pretty staggered when he hears."
"He will indeed. He's known the general since 1916, they were in the first war together." He noticed that Hardorff had finished his glass. "Sorry, I'm a bad
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