taken up his position on the ramparts, whence he could survey the whole esplanade. Quite right: there came the black frock-coat, the light trousers, and the well-brushed hat.
Cousin Hans felt his heart palpitate a little. At first he attributed this to a sense of shame in thus craftily setting a trap for the good old captain. But he soon discovered that it was the sight of the beloved one's father that set his blood in a ferment. Thus reassured, he began, in accordance with Uncle Frederick's advice, to draw strokes and angles in the sand, attentively fixing his eyes, from time to time, upon the Castle of Akerhuus.
The whole esplanade was quiet and deserted. Cousin Hans could hear the captain's firm steps approaching; they came right up to him and stopped. Hans did not look up; the captain advanced two more paces and coughed. Hans drew a long and profoundly significant stroke with his stick, and then the old fellow could contain himself no longer.
"Aha, young gentleman," he said, in a friendly tone, taking off his hat, "are you making a plan of our fortifications?"
Cousin Hans assumed the look of one who is awakened from deep contemplation, and bowing politely, he answered with some embarrassment: "No, it's only a sort of habit I have of trying to take my bearings wherever I may be."
"An excellent habit, a most excellent habit," the captain exclaimed with warmth.
