for the first time. I did not dare to go out into the streets with it
on, but went out of my way round the ramparts for fear of meeting
anyone.

When I was a little boy I did not, of course, trouble much about my
appearance. I did not remember that my portrait had been drawn several
times. But when I was nine years old, Aunt Sarah--at that time everybody
was either uncle or aunt--determined that we brothers should have our
portraits taken in daguerreotype for Father's birthday. The event made a
profound impression, because I had to stand perfectly still while the
picture was being taken, and because the daguerreotypist, a German,
whose name was Schaetzig, rolled his _r_s and hissed his _s_s.
The whole affair was a great secret, which was not to be betrayed. The
present was to be a surprise, and I was compelled to promise perfect
silence. I kept my promise for one day. But next day, at the dinner-
table, I accidentally burst out: "Now! quite shtill! _as the man
said_." "What man?" "Ah! that was the secret!"

The visit to Schaetzig in itself I had reason to remember a long time.
Some one or another had said that I had a slender neck, and that it was
pretty. Just as we were going in, my aunt said: "You will catch cold
inside," and in spite of my protests tied a little silk handkerchief
round my neck. That handkerchief spoilt all my pleasure in being
immortalised. And it is round my neck on the old picture to this day.


XVI.

The tin soldiers had called all my warlike instincts into being. After
the rocking-horse, more and more military appurtenances followed. A