in his superiors that military life filled him with enthusiasm. "To be swallowed up in a great init," he would say. He would ask for nothing better In the world than to stay in the army. He was sincere, but that did not prevent him, when they were exercising in the parade ground that afternoon, from having no other wish than to he down in his grave and die. The uniform which was cut to fit closely, for reasons of smartness, became a real instrument of torture after eating. It was no consolation that the captain appeared unspeakably warlike and daring as he gave his commands from his horse, when one could feel the undigested soup slopping about in one's stomach as one ran around breathlessly. The enthusiasm which Diederich was fully prepared to feel was tempered by his personal hardships. His foot was aching again, and Diederich waited for the pain in the anxious hope, mixed with self-contempt, that it would get worse, so bad that he could not go route marching again. Perhaps he might not even have to exercise any more in the barrack square, and they would have to give him his discharge.
Things came to the point where he called one Sunday on the father of one of his college friends, who was an advisory member of the Medical Council. Red with shame Diederich confessed that he had come to ask for his support. He loved the army, the whole system, and would gladly follow that career. He would be part of a great mechanism, an element in its strength, so to speak, and would always know what he had to do, which was a delightful feeling. But now his foot was paining him. "I can't let it go so far until it is useless. After all, I have to support my mother and sisters." The doctor examined him. "The Neo-Teutons for ever." said he. "It so happens your surgeon-major is a friend of mine." That fact was known to Diederich through his friend. He took his leave full of anxious hope.
The effect of this hope was that he could hardly stand the next morning. He reported sick. "Who are you? and why
