ssed along the hall, halted for a moment at the
doorway as if contemplating an armed invasion, thought better of it,
and took his uniform away into the sunlight of the open square, where
it was joined by other uniforms, and became by contrast a miracle of
unbraced levity. Paul stood the Polar silence for a few moments, until
one of the readers arose and, taking his book--a Murray--in his hand,
walked slowly across the room to a companion, mutely pointed to a
passage in the book, remained silent until the other had dumbly perused
it, and then walked back again to his seat, having achieved the
incident without a word. At which Paul, convinced of his own
incongruity, softly withdrew with his hat in his hand, and his eyes
fixed devotionally upon it.

It was good after that to get into the slanting sunlight and checkered
linden shadows of the Allee; to see even a tightly jacketed cavalryman
naturally walking with Clarchen and her two round-faced and drab-haired
young charges; to watch the returning invalid procession, very real and
very human, each individual intensely involved in the atmosphere of his
own symptoms; and very good after that to turn into the Thiergarten,
where the animals, were, however, chiefly of his own species, and
shamelessly and openly amusing themselves. It was pleasant to contrast
it with his first visit to the place three months before, and correct
his crude impressions. And it was still more pleasant suddenly to
recognize, under the round flat cap of a general officer, a former
traveler who was fond of talking with him about America with an
intelligence and understanding of it that Paul had often missed among
his own traveled countrymen. It was pleasant to hear his unaffected
and simple greeting, to renew their old acquaintance, and to saunter
back to the hotel together through the long twilight.

They were only a few squares from the hotel, when Paul's attention was
attracted by the curiosity and delight of two or three children before
him, who appeared to be following a quaint-looking figure that was
evidently not unfamiliar to them. It appeared to be a servant in a
striking livery of green with yellow facings and crested silver
buttons, but still more remarkable for the indescribable mingling of
jaunty ease and conscious dignity with which he carried off his finery.
There was something so singular and yet so vaguely reminiscent in his
peculiar walk and the exaggerated swing of his light ba