The old man threaded his way with quick gait through the grey stone château resort high in the pines of the Black Forest, past his fellow guests and their nurses. On vacation, he looked as chipper as ever, walking in the morning amid the trees, kneeling for as long as an hour in the chapel, while Paul, his son, said Mass. He joshed the hotel servants; when a waiter with a Rhineland accent brought the corkscrew to open some 40-year-old brandy, he insisted that the man drink with him.
But in his 79th year, Konrad Adenauer, Der Alte of West...
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