A white terrier pranced at the Chancellor's side. While Achilles simply looked from the terrier to Hitler and lifted her brows with lazy disdain, Taurus emitted a low growl. The little dog immediately cowered behind its master's legs. Almost imperceptibly, Hitler glanced down. He shifted his gaze to the tables and looked around with the air of a man who had arrived at a popular restaurant to find his regularly reserved table taken. Then he stared over the heads of the café customers, out across the lake, as though absorbed in a vision only he could discern. "Führer, wir folgen Dir!" The woman, Helga, shouted words lifted from a popular election poster: "Führer. We follow you!" The Chancellor bowed slightly to acknowledge her adoration. "Mitt Gottes Willen," Erich added softly. Rising to his feet, he clicked his heels and saluted Helga's small compact hero. "With God's will." Hitler and his entourage lifted their arms in an answering stiff-armed salute, which induced most of the customers to shout "Heil!" and raise their arms in return.
