Donop, who said he was very weary, proposed to return to his billet to read and sleep awhile. Brockendorf suggested that Eglofstein should set up a faro bank — he had received some inherited money at Perpignan some weeks before, through Durand's the bankers — but Eglofstein pleaded that he had no time and must repair to his office for an hour to attend to the day's business. Brockendorf, turning peevish, made no secret of his contempt for paper-work in general and the duties of a regimental adjutant in particular. "No one," he declared, "could sharpen as many quills in a day as you wear out in an hour. You fill innumerable sheets of paper, and all they're good for is grocer's cornets of cinnamon, ginger or pepper." "Unless I write out vouchers for you all today," said Eglofstein, "you'll get no money tomorrow. The paymaster will give you nothing without my signature." We walked on, keeping to the middle of the street to avoid the melted snow that trickled from the eaves.
What do You think about The Marquis Of Bolibar (2011)?
