wheels, chains, rods, cylinders, arms, and teeth—a world, an entire overpowering world of ingenious utility.
Klaus Heinrich looked at everything; he walked, with his sword-hilt on his forearm, down the rows of animals, cages, sacks, tubs, glasses, and implements. The dignitary at his side pointed with his white-gloved hand to this and that, venturing on a remark from time to time, and Klaus Heinrich acted up to his calling. He expressed in words his appreciation of all he saw, stopped from time to time and engaged the exhibitors of the animals in conversation, inquired in an affable way into their circumstances, and put questions to the country people whose answers entailed a scratching behind their ears. And as he walked he bowed his thanks on both sides for the homage of the population which lined his path.
The people had collected most thickly at the exit, where the carriages were waiting, in order to watch him drive off. A way was kept free for him, a straight passage to the step of his landau, and he walked quickly down it, bowing continuously with his hand to his helmet—alone and formally separated from all those men who, in honouring him, were cheering their own archetype, their standard, and of whose lives, work, and ability he was the splendid representative, though not participator.
With a light and free step he mounted the carriage, settled himself artistically so that he at once assumed a perfectly graceful and self-possessed pose, and drove, saluting as he went, to the clubhouse, where luncheon was prepared. During luncheon—indeed, directly after the second course—the District Judge proposed the health of the Grand Duke and the Prince, whereupon Klaus Heinrich at once rose to drink to the welfare of the county and city. After the luncheon, however, he retired to the room which the Mayor had put at his disposal in his official residence and lay down on the bed for an hour,
