Portly Colonel von Wendel, of Hanau Cuirassiers, combines the functions of governor of the palace and head of the military household of the Grand Duke. In the second capacity he has under his orders Captain Müller, of the Würtemberg Chasseurs, and Lieutenants Bernhardt and von Choisly, Uhlans and officers of the Grand Duke's staff. He is a good sort, who spends his time shouting when the Grand Duke isn't there, and trembling like an aspen leaf when he is. I suspect Kessel has a profound contempt for him. He, on the other hand, treats Kessel, who is on the Great General Staff, with the greatest deference. It would never enter his head that his double functions authorize him to give orders to the taciturn artilleryman. His _bête-noire_, however, is little Lieutenant von Hagen, of the Lautenburg Hussars, the Grand Duchess's orderly officer. Rows between the Colonel and the Lieutenant are of frequent occurrence, but the junior is backed by the Grand Duchess, who cannot do without him. The Grand Duke won't hear a word against him. Wendel has to give way. In the first few days I became conscious of the mutual hatred of these two men. Without ever getting as far as confidences, the Governor of the castle made two or three bitter remarks about the difficulties of his task. I felt that with a little encouragement... But I'd promised to keep to my own job and never mix myself up in their affairs. All the same, little Hagen irritated me beyond words, with his monocle, his way of looking you up and down, and the self-satisfaction of the man who feels secure against anything. He had been attached as orderly to the Grand Duchess for two years, and I understand that at the time she took him from the Lautenburg Hussars he was on the point of blowing his brains out as a result of some gaming scandal. The rest, on the whole, are pleasant enough. They became a good deal more agreeable when they learned I "was an officer of the Reserve." That day Colonel von Wendel asked me to dinner. Frau von Wendel, a motherly, red-haired woman of forty, called me "Monsieur le lieutenant." At dessert she asked me in a tender voice if I had read the "Fiancée de Messine." After all this was a better way of spending my time than at the Sorbonne attending the lectures of M. Seignobos. I only mention his name because it will do as well as any other. 5. THE LIBRARY AND THE LIBRARIAN The former plays so considerable a part in my story, that I must devote a little space to a description of it. As for the latter, Professor Cyrus Beck, of Kiel University, it seems only just that I should say a few words in praise of the man of whose death I have been the innocent cause. The library had been fitted up in the dismantled chapel of the castle, a chapel somewhat in the Jesuitical style having been built in the palace.