Paul sat in his chair as rigid and motionless as a statue, but inside his head thoughts spiralled endlessly around without reaching any conclusion. In the past he had always had confidence in his judgments; it had been one of his strengths; but not so now. Was he doing the right thing? Was it too late to change? How was he to know? He had always acted in accordance with certain fixed and inviolable rules, but he had never pretended to great intelligence. Throughout his long career, others had always done the detailed and difficult work for him: his function was to provide dignity and stability, and to calm down those brainy chaps when they got over-excited, as they often did.
He had been respected too, and generally successful. But now here he was, alone. He dimly sensed that the world had changed: the rules which had governed his life had perhaps ceased to exist. The brainy chaps who might have helped him out had gone. He should have gone too: he realized that. More than once he had retired, and then allowed himself to be called back. He should have resisted that last call; in his heart he had known it all along: the only time in his life that he had ever acted weakly. Surely at his age he should have been allowed to live in peace! It had brought him nothing but uncertainty, when every course of action seemed distasteful.
Now there was this man he had to meet: a man young enough to be his grandson. Not that he would have wished any grandson of his to turn out like that! He had already met him more than once, and had disliked him intensely. The fellow was common beyond belief; obviously risen from the gutter; ill-mannered, disrespectful, dishonest and consumed with violent ambition: a man who acknowledged no rules of any kind in his pursuit of power. Paul’s oldest friends had warned him against having anything to do with this person. Where were his friends now, when he needed them most? Gone; all gone. He was alone, and what was he to do? For the first time in his life, Paul felt helpless; a mere cork, drifting in the tide of events.
The door opened to admit the unwanted visitor. Paul rose ponderously to his feet and, maintaining dignity till the last, stood as ramrod-straight as if still on the parade-ground. The other man was plainly ill-at-ease. He had taken the trouble to dress formally for the occasion, which served only to make him look more ridiculous than ever. The two exchanged stilted and unmeaning compliments, scarcely bothering to disguise the contempt they felt for each other. But the formalities had to be gone through. So the older man and the younger shook hands, and Field-Marshal-President Paul von Hindenburg appointed Adolf Hitler Chancellor of Germany.
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