Much--nay, every thing, he apprehended, would be endangered by this war.

So he rushed up to his principal, met him coming down, and hastily related the news just heard; while Mr.Braun hurried to deliver a second edition in the office, with as many further particulars as were compatible with his love of truth.
The principal remained for a moment silent where he stood, and Anton, who was watching him anxiously, fancied that he looked a shade paler than usual; but that must have been a mistake, for the next moment, directing his attention to the porters beyond, he called out, in the cool, business-like tone which had so often impressed Anton with respect, "Sturm, be good enough to remove that barrel: it's in the very middle of the way; and bestir yourselves, all of you; the carrier will set out in an hour." To which Sturm, with a sorrowful look upon his broad face, replied, "The drums are beating, and our men marching off.
My Karl is there as a hussar, with gay lace on his little coat.

It is unlucky, indeed.

Alas for our wares, Mr.Schroeter!" "Make the more haste on that account," replied the principal, smiling.
"Our wagons are going to the frontier too, laden with sugar and rum; our soldiers will be glad of a glass of punch in the cold weather." Then turning to Anton, he said, "These tidings are not satisfactory, but we must not believe all we hear." And then, going into his office, he spoke rather more cheerfully than usual to Mr.Braun; and, having quietly heard his whole story, made a few comforting observations as to the probability of the wagons not having yet reached the frontier.
And so the great subject of interest was laid aside for the day, and office-work went on as usual.

Mr.Liebold wrote down large sums in his ledger; Mr.Purzel piled dollar on dollar; and Mr.Pix wielded the black brush and governed the servants with his wonted decision.