among the cabbages in the market-place. Nobody was ever imposed upon
for a moment by their tremendous energy and severe display; drums might
beat, trumpets blow, dragoons charge furiously all over the Exercier
Platz, or suddenly flash their naked swords in the streets to the
guttural command of an officer--nobody seemed to mind it. People glanced
up to recognize Rudolf or Max "doing their service," nodded, and went
about their business. And although the officers always wore their
side-arms, and at the most peaceful of social dinners only relinquished
their swords in the hall, apparently that they might be ready to buckle
them on again and rush out to do battle for the Fatherland between the
courses, the other guests only looked upon these weapons in the light
of sticks and umbrellas, and possessed their souls in peace. And
when, added to this singular incongruity, many of these warriors were
spectacled, studious men, and, despite their lethal weapons, wore a
slightly professional air, and were--to a man--deeply sentimental and
singularly simple, their attitude in this eternal Kriegspiel seemed to
the consul more puzzling than ever.

As he entered his consulate he was confronted with another aspect of
Schlachtstadt quite as wonderful, yet already familiar to him. For,
in spite of these "alarums without," which, however, never seem to
penetrate beyond the town itself, Schlachtstadt and its suburbs were
known all over the world for the manufactures of certain beautiful
textile fabrics, and many of the rank and file of those warriors had
built up the fame and prosperity of the district over their peaceful
looms in wayside cottages. There were great depots and counting-houses,
larger than even the cavalry barracks, where no other uniform but that
of the postman was known. Hence it was that the consul's chief duty
was to uphold the flag of his own country by the examination
and certification of divers invoices sent to his office by the