"Unser Karl" Page #6

"Unser Karl" by Bret Harte is a poignant short story that explores themes of friendship, loyalty, and cultural differences. Set in a mining town during the California Gold Rush, it centers around the character of Karl, a German immigrant, and his relationships with the local townsfolk. Through a series of engaging interactions and humor, Harte delves into the complexities of immigrant life and the bonds that form in a diverse community. The narrative highlights the significance of understanding and acceptance, ultimately delivering a message about the humanity that connects us all, regardless of background.

								

flaxen hair clipped a little closer, but still its fleece showing under
his kepi. Karl, his cheeks more cherubic than ever--unchanged but for a
tiny yellow toy mustache curling up over the corners of his full lips.
Karl, beaming at his companions in his old way, but rattling off French
vivacities without the faintest trace of accent. Could he be mistaken?
Was it some phenomenal resemblance, or had the soul of the German
private been transmigrated to the French officer.

The consul hurriedly called the garcon. "Who is that officer who has
just arrived?"

"It is the Captain Christian, of the Intelligence Bureau," said the
waiter, with proud alacrity. "A famous officer, brave as a rabbit,--un
fier lapin,--and one of our best clients. So drole, too, such a farceur
and mimic. M'sieur would be ravished to hear his imitations."

"But he looks like a German; and his name!"

"Ah, he is from Alsace. But not a German!" said the waiter, absolutely
whitening with indignation. "He was at Belfort. So was I. Mon Dieu! No,
a thousand times no!"

"But has he been living here long?" said the consul.

"In Paris, a few months. But his Department, M'sieur understands, takes
him EVERYWHERE! Everywhere where he can gain information."

The consul's eyes were still on the Captain Christian. Presently the
officer, perhaps instinctively conscious of the scrutiny, looked towards
him. Their eyes met. To the consul's surprise, the ci-devant Karl beamed
upon him, and advanced with outstretched hand.

But the consul stiffened slightly, and remained so with his glass in his
hand. At which Captain Christian brought his own easily to a military
salute, and said politely:--

"Monsieur le Consul has been promoted from his post. Permit me to
congratulate him."

"You have heard, then?" said the consul dryly.

"Otherwise I should not presume. For our Department makes it a
business--in Monsieur le Consul's case it becomes a pleasure--to know
everything."

"Did your Department know that the real Karl Schwartz has returned?"
said the consul dryly.

Captain Christian shrugged his shoulders. "Then it appears that the sham
Karl died none too soon," he said lightly. "And yet"--he bent his eyes
with mischievous reproach upon the consul.

"Yet what?" demanded the consul sternly.

"Monsieur le Consul might have saved the unfortunate man by accepting
him as an American citizen and not helping to force him into the German
service."

The consul saw in a flash the full military significance of this logic,
and could not repress a smile. At which Captain Christian dropped easily
into a chair beside him, and as easily into broken German English:--

"Und," he went on, "dees town--dees Schlachtstadt is fine town, eh? Fine
womens? Goot men? Und peer and sausage? Blenty to eat and trink, eh? Und
you und te poys haf a gay times?"

The consul tried to recover his dignity. The waiter behind him,
recognizing only the delightful mimicry of this adorable officer, was in
fits of laughter. Nevertheless, the consul managed to say dryly:--

"And the barracks, the magazines, the commissariat, the details, the
reserves of Schlachtstadt were very interesting?"

"Assuredly."

"And Rheinfestung--its plans--its details, even its dangerous
foundations by the river--they were to a soldier singularly
instructive?"

"You have reason to say so," said Captain Christian, curling his little
mustache.

"And the fortress--you think?"

"Imprenable! Mais"--

The consul remembered General Adlerkreutz's "Zo-o," and wondered.
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