when you come to this point, you must nod violently, and say: 'Of course—the only reasonable move—the key to the position.' Remember that—the key."
"The key," repeated Cousin Hans.
"But," said his uncle, looking at him with anticipatory compassion, "if, in your youthful love of adventure, you should bring on yourself the long story, the one about Waterloo, you must either keep quite silent or have all your wits about you. I once had to swallow the whole description over again, only because, in my eagerness to show how thoroughly I understood the situation, I happened to move Kellermann's dragoons instead of Milhaud's cuirassiers!"
"What do you mean by moving the dragoons, uncle?" asked Cousin Hans.
"Oh, you'll understand well enough, if you come in for the long one. But," added Uncle Frederick, in a solemn tone, "beware, I warn you, beware of Blücher!"
"Blücher?" said Cousin Hans.
"I won't say anything more. But what makes you wish to know about this old original? What on earth do you want with him?"
"Does he walk there every forenoon?" asked Hans.
"Every forenoon, from eleven to one, and every afternoon, from five to seven. But what interest—?"
