An order, passed down by the commanding officers, captains and lieutenants, and the earth trembled beneath the hoofs of the 11th Detmold Dragoons moving off by the right, behind the 182nd Infantry, to take its place for the march past. It was Marçais' turn to press my arm. "Look!" he said. In front of us, in the first row, Fräulein Melusine von Graffenfried was leaning over the rail with a smile on her lips. Two riders were advancing towards the King. One was little Hagen, rather pale and plainly full of himself. He was riding eight or ten paces behind the Colonel of the Lautenburg Hussars. To tell the truth, I could not clearly distinguish the features of the Grand Duchess Aurora. I could only see the outline of her slight form. She was walking a little horse gorgeously caparisoned. Above her riding skirt was the tunic of the Lautenburg Hussars, red with orange facings. Her black kolbach reared its long gold cockade above her head. She also presented arms to the King of Würtemberg, who, urging his horse forward, bowed over her hand and kissed it. A tremendous cheer went up from the crowd: "_Hoch_ for the Grand Duchess! _Hoch_ for the King! _Hoch_ for the Kaiser!" Marçais touched Melusine gently on the arm. "The Grand Duchess is a very placid Amazon today," he said. "Do you think so?" replied the girl, shrugging her shoulders but not turning round. "She had two bottles of 'Extra Dry' put in Taras-Bulba's oats this morning. That explains everything." "Taras-Bulba! Is that her horse?" I asked. "Yes, a fearful little brute, hairy as a mat, you can see. She brought him from the marshes of the Volga. He's ugly, vicious and obstinate. She's absolutely the only person who can ride him. He tries to bite the groom's face off, but she can do what she likes with him." "Sh!" said Melusine. "Look!" The Hussars were advancing at full trot to take their places behind the Dragoons, who were drawn up behind the infantry. With their backs to the stand and ourselves, the King of Würtemberg and General von Eichhorn faced the Grand Duke Frederick-Augustus and Duke Joachim, who, at the other end of the parade-ground, presented the troops marching past. I have no bias in favour of the Prussian goose-step, but I assure you that though we may mock at it in France, it is remarkably appropriate to German military atmosphere. The 182nd marched past in line of columns of companies. You could have heard a pin drop. The six field artillery batteries followed at a gallop, the copper bobs on their black helmets sparkling in the sun. Then, by squads and keeping faultless alignment, the Detmold Dragoons advanced, followed at a distance of two hundred yards or so by the Lautenburg Hussars. The Grand Duchess was between the two regiments. Little Hagen, stiller than ever, looked in the seventh heaven. A feeling of mute hatred of the man rose within me.