but he politely replied, “That is very kind of him.” At his insistence I helped myself to a cigar. We sat down and passed a few moments of awkward silence camouflaged in smoke.
Then, suddenly, Ilges embarked on an anecdote about a bizarre decree passed by the Prussian government which had forbidden the smoking of cigars in public unless they were fitted with a wire mesh to prevent their ends coming into contact with women’s crinolines. The Kaiser feared for the ladies’ lives, feared mass incinerations in the ballrooms of his kingdom. As he related this, Ilges’s accent noticeably thickened. It was as if he were performing in a music-hall skit, lampooning an officious German puffing away on his own terrible incendiary device. Finishing his story, he looked me steadily in the eye and said, “Ah, the Germans. So obsessed with rules, with order. Ridiculous, nein?”
I suspected this self-parody was a response to the tantrum Walsh had confessed to throwing, some slur he had probably cast on the Teutonic race in the heat of the moment. I took my time replying. “Don’t mistake me for Walsh,” I said. “I am a cautious man. Unlike him, I have a taste for order.”
Ilges gave a pat to the letter of introduction lying on the desktop. “That is what Walsh says in this. He claims you are a rational man. That you calculate like an abacus.” I could see him studying me closely, and was pleased to think that in choosing to describe myself as an abacus I had intrigued him. “He mentions you bring me a proposal – one that he hopes I find agreeable. I am not convinced agreement between the Major and me is possible. The last time we met was not a pleasant occasion. When I spoke of my intention to keep a copy of any report I sent him, and suggested that he do the same with any he submitted to me, Walsh was outraged. He said I had insulted him by suggesting he was likely to distort any information I provided him. I hurried to assure him my motives were simply this: if any of my superiors in this time of crisis charged me with being negligent in the performance of my duty, I wanted proof to the contrary. But Major Walsh stormed out of my office.” A brief smile flitted over Ilges’s lips. “I do not want my crinoline set aflame by President Grant’s cigar.”
I was realizing that the man did not conform at all to Walsh’s disparaging description of him. Then my eyes fell on a framed daguerreotype on his desk, which depicted Union officers gathered around cannons, and what I took to be a captured Confederate flag. Ilges was easily recognizable among them because of his great height. Walsh, who has yearned for battle and never seen it, must have felt the thorn in his paw when he saw his counterpart in Fort Benton pictured this way. I said, “Major Walsh was wrong to view your actions in such a light. Yours was an eminently sensible precaution. He sees that now.” I paused before adding a qualification. “What you say about establishing a record is all very well, but I think you wacknowledge official correspondence has its limitations.”
Ilges took off his green eyeshade and carefully stowed it away in a small mahogany box. I sensed that was a stratagem to mask that his curiosity had been piqued. “In what sense?” he asked, careful to display no particular interest.
“I’m sure that it is your experience that anything to be read by a higher-up encourages circumspection, a certain guardedness in the writer.”
Ilges conceded that with a slight dip of the head.
“Here we are talking about an even touchier situation, one in which the governments of our respective countries are demanding you and Walsh to keep each other fully apprised of developments on your side of the border. But we know that perfect frankness is not possible.”
“Do we? It is very kind of you to speak for me.”
It was a mild reproof, accompanied by a faint smile, but I felt the force of it. “I beg pardon, Major. Perhaps I am too much in
Then, suddenly, Ilges embarked on an anecdote about a bizarre decree passed by the Prussian government which had forbidden the smoking of cigars in public unless they were fitted with a wire mesh to prevent their ends coming into contact with women’s crinolines. The Kaiser feared for the ladies’ lives, feared mass incinerations in the ballrooms of his kingdom. As he related this, Ilges’s accent noticeably thickened. It was as if he were performing in a music-hall skit, lampooning an officious German puffing away on his own terrible incendiary device. Finishing his story, he looked me steadily in the eye and said, “Ah, the Germans. So obsessed with rules, with order. Ridiculous, nein?”
I suspected this self-parody was a response to the tantrum Walsh had confessed to throwing, some slur he had probably cast on the Teutonic race in the heat of the moment. I took my time replying. “Don’t mistake me for Walsh,” I said. “I am a cautious man. Unlike him, I have a taste for order.”
Ilges gave a pat to the letter of introduction lying on the desktop. “That is what Walsh says in this. He claims you are a rational man. That you calculate like an abacus.” I could see him studying me closely, and was pleased to think that in choosing to describe myself as an abacus I had intrigued him. “He mentions you bring me a proposal – one that he hopes I find agreeable. I am not convinced agreement between the Major and me is possible. The last time we met was not a pleasant occasion. When I spoke of my intention to keep a copy of any report I sent him, and suggested that he do the same with any he submitted to me, Walsh was outraged. He said I had insulted him by suggesting he was likely to distort any information I provided him. I hurried to assure him my motives were simply this: if any of my superiors in this time of crisis charged me with being negligent in the performance of my duty, I wanted proof to the contrary. But Major Walsh stormed out of my office.” A brief smile flitted over Ilges’s lips. “I do not want my crinoline set aflame by President Grant’s cigar.”
I was realizing that the man did not conform at all to Walsh’s disparaging description of him. Then my eyes fell on a framed daguerreotype on his desk, which depicted Union officers gathered around cannons, and what I took to be a captured Confederate flag. Ilges was easily recognizable among them because of his great height. Walsh, who has yearned for battle and never seen it, must have felt the thorn in his paw when he saw his counterpart in Fort Benton pictured this way. I said, “Major Walsh was wrong to view your actions in such a light. Yours was an eminently sensible precaution. He sees that now.” I paused before adding a qualification. “What you say about establishing a record is all very well, but I think you wacknowledge official correspondence has its limitations.”
Ilges took off his green eyeshade and carefully stowed it away in a small mahogany box. I sensed that was a stratagem to mask that his curiosity had been piqued. “In what sense?” he asked, careful to display no particular interest.
“I’m sure that it is your experience that anything to be read by a higher-up encourages circumspection, a certain guardedness in the writer.”
Ilges conceded that with a slight dip of the head.
“Here we are talking about an even touchier situation, one in which the governments of our respective countries are demanding you and Walsh to keep each other fully apprised of developments on your side of the border. But we know that perfect frankness is not possible.”
“Do we? It is very kind of you to speak for me.”
It was a mild reproof, accompanied by a faint smile, but I felt the force of it. “I beg pardon, Major. Perhaps I am too much in
Similar Books
