His Korps had nothing more to do with the proceedings, for they had no
more duels on the day's list, and as none of them had been hurt, they
prepared to watch the subsequent fights over a glass of beer,
collecting themselves round Greif, Rex, and the thirsty second. It was
by this time about five o'clock in the morning. The gas burned steadily
overhead and the meeting of arms proceeded as regularly and quickly as
any Roman show of gladiators. From time to time the Korps servants
washed the blood-stained marble floor and threw down fresh sawdust for
the next encounter. The surgeon and the wounded were kept out of sight
behind the plants, and nothing disagreeable met the eye. The gleam and
flashing of the steel swords under the yellow light, the gay colours of
the caps, the quick movements of combatants and seconds were all
pleasant to see against the background of stately exotic plants which
made the hall look like a great conservatory.
Greif looked at it all and enjoyed it, almost wishing that this might
be the last scene of the kind which he should attend, and that he might
always have the impression of it when he thought of his student life,
so different from the dismal meetings that sometimes took place in
deserted barns, or in outhouses of country inns. In some ways he
preferred the Palmengarten as a fighting ground to the forest glades in
which the summer duels were sometimes fought. He felt, as he sat there,
chief of his Korps, and looked up to by every one, very much as he
fancied a Roman emperor must have felt in his high seat over the arena.
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