He looked up at the castle. The building seemed to be watching him. The windows and gables were like so many eyes through which his ancient lineage observed him, pulling him into a dark vortex of honor, discipline, and death. Baron Wilhelm von Lehndorff could go nowhere

The idea of war as a blank sheet of paper for scientists to fill with whatever they wanted was strangely seductive.

He had been an honest and decent person who did not kill people before. Before, he had been studying History of Art at Leningrad University. Before, he owned a dog and talked about love to a redhead student called Sofia. He stared at the decomposing body he, Konstantin Vasilievich Borodin, had deprived of life. This was the worst thing the Nazis

The Negroni went down easily, momentarily chasing away the heat of summer. There was nothing like it in Czechoslovakia. Presumably, not even in Russia. Over there, you drank strong, tasteless stuff. You drank to dull the senses, to forget, to punish yourself. It was solitary drinking, even when in company. In Italy, on the other hand, you drank to

Within a couple of days, that room and the whole castle would be turned into billets for soldiers. Drunk muzhik would vomit on the carpets and take potshots with the Wedgwood service that Carlotta had bought in London. Before they left, they would set the whole place on fire. His family history would come to an end there and then, and perhaps it

The Nazis talked about “militant science.” It was not science. It was a parody of science. Just as National Socialism was a parody of politics.

There will always be lords and servants,” Albert commented, “but they won’t be like us. The rules that have governed our world, whether they be right or wrong, represented something that brought order out of chaos and that has lasted for a long time.”

Personally, since I was blinded in one eye, I have become a better striker. Especially with the épée, seeing doesn’t help much. The target is there. You need to feel the blade as if it were an extension of your arm. You don’t need eyes to move your wrist. The French call it le sentiment du fer, a feel for the iron.

Von Lehndorff pinned the first-class Iron Cross on his chest, knotted the Pour le Mérite around his neck, and donned the steel helmet with which he had fought at the Somme. At the time, the battle had felt like hell on earth, the final labyrinth where European consciousness had lost its way. Instead, it had been just the beginning.