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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Golossa-a-l," muttered Von Mendebach, as we went away hurriedly together. The next morning Carl sent an English-speaking student with a challenge to Andrew Smallie. I wrote a note to my compatriot, telling him that although it was not our habit in England, he would do well to accept the challenge or to leave Gottingen at once. Carl stood over me while I wrote the letter.
The fresh pink of his cheek like the complexion of a healthy girl never faded for a moment. "When I've done with him," cried Smallie, "I'll fight you." We placed our men. The German soldier gave the word. Carl von Mendebach went down heavily. He was still smiling with a strange surprise on his simple face. "Little man," he said, "he has hit me."
I remember to this day the pleasure of skating with Lisa's warmly gloved little hands in my own her small furred form touching me lightly each time we swung over to the left on the outside edge. I saw Andrew Smallie once or twice. Once he winked at me, knowingly, as I passed him with Lisa and I hated him for it. That man almost spoilt Gottingen for me.
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