LADY GURTNER felt on this July evening that she had “arrived,” and her face at the end of her table, flushed with triumph, was like the harvest moon over the fields where she had sowed and reaped. She had not precisely sowed in tears, nor had she watered her springing fields with them, for tears do not in the crop she was raising, produce any kind of result, but she had sowed early and late, with winter wheat and summer wheat, spring and autumn, in poetry gatherings, in dinners and concerts and operas and week-ends, and to-night she felt definitely that her harvest was reaped and her barns stacked with golden grain.

All her sowings had helped her, even the poetry-sowings which she had altogether abandoned when she perceived that poetry was considered a nuisance by all but a very small and rather weird and curious set of falsetto people, and to-night, poetry, as a climbing ladder, was represented only by an ancient light who looked rather the worse for wear and want of washing. She had even asked one or two people “to be kind to the poor Duchess,” for she was sure that Constance Hampshire was not accustomed to shine among so bright a galaxy of stars as those who to-night sat at the very much extended table in her new house in Curzon Street. So extended was it, and so bright{119} were the hungry constellations on each side of it, quite dimming the lustre of the Queen Anne silver which she had lately been buying by the hundredweight to furnish her table, that both from actual distance and, figuratively, from the distance of social values, she could barely see her husband, that little London fog, who sat at the far end, and paid for everything, and perspired easily.

There were two great achievements which to Aline Gurtner’s mind marked off this particular party as being in a somewhat different class to all her previous gatherings, increasingly splendid though these had been. The first was that there was a real Royal princess present, no mere Transparency or Serenity or Liability, or any of those pinchbeck German imitations, but the thing itself, a woman who was a near relation of a real imperial house, and talked of her brothers and sisters in a perfectly natural manner by their Christian names. There she sat next the little London fog, big and handsome and jolly, eating with an immense hereditary appetite and laughing at Sir Hermann’s sparse conversation with such cheerful spontaneity that he began to think he was a very amusing fellow, which in reality he was not.

The other achievement was hardly less notable, for she had got Lady Grote also to dine with her, and in her growing knowledge of the rungs of the London ladder she had become aware that this was almost as brilliant a feat as securing a real princess. True, she had been down to one of Lady Grote’s Sunday menageries, where all the world went, but that was a totally different thing from getting Lady Grote here, even as it was a totally different thing to go to a Windsor garden party from entertaining the giver of that yourself. But Aline Gurtner had begun to know her London well enough to tell Lady Grote that Kuhlmann was among her guests,{120} and to know Lady Grote well enough to place him next her.

Presently, after dinner, there was to be quite a short concert in the big music-room. She had asked very few extra guests to that, for it was to be no affair of sitting elbow to elbow on small gilt chairs, but everybody was to be comfortably seated and at ease to listen to the entertainment, really colossal in quality. The London Symphony Orchestra was to accompany Kuhlmann, who had never before sung at a private concert, but had been induced to accept the tremendous price that the little London fog had offered him. (He had also been made aware that Lady Grote was to be among the guests.) The orchestra furthermore was to perform the new symphonic poem by Saalfeld, the modern German composer, who was to conduct in person this piece, which had not yet been performed in England. A Russian soprano was to sing, and she with Kuhlmann and an alto and bass, equally prohibitive in price to all but the princes of finance, were to perform a new vocal quartette, composed and conducted by the same Saalfeld. Then the band was to move into the gallery at the end of the music-room, and on the stage which they had vacated Nijinski and Rimorska would give the ballet of Endymion.

All this was to be produced for the benefit of not more than eighty people. The little London fog knew what it would work out at per head (dividing the total cost by eighty), and with a touch of playful cynicism had suggested to Aline that if she presented the guests she wished to ask with a cheque that, though considerable in itself, would yet fall far short of their share in the entertainment, she would win the friendships she desired, and he would save money, which he always found an attractive occupation. But as a matter of{121} fact, it rather amused him to know that she, an ex-governess, and he, an ex-office boy, could thus whistle all London that mattered to their table. Aline quite realized that by keeping this sumptuous party so small she would assuredly make a host of enemies, but it seemed to her that a handful of the right sort of friends quite outweighed this. Besides, if her enemies were good, she would give them another treat one of these days. But they would have to wait for that, since it was now more than half-way through July, and she herself was going off to Baireuth next week. She would do something for her enemies in the autumn.

So it was with the satisfaction of plethoric attainment that Aline Gurtner looked round her dinner-table. She had a “feeling of fullness.” There was a polyglot assembly there, in which, apart from the English of England, the Germans of England largely predominated, as did also their tongue. She herself had been taken in to dinner by the German Ambassador, and as her knowledge of German was practically perfect, it was in the language of the Fatherland that they conversed. Another German focus radiated from Herr Saalfeld and the Ambassador’s wife, a third was formed by Kuhlmann, the Princess and Gurtner, all three of whom were perfectly at home in speaking German, and the two men far more so than in speaking English. Then, in acknowledgment of the existence of the Entente, there was talk in French between Lady Grote and the French Ambassador, and between him and Lady Massingberd, who was on his other side, and a Russian beyond her. For the rest English was in the ascendant, but the quality of German speech with its guttural sonorousness about equalled in volume the larger quantity of the quieter voices.

As dinner went on Aline Gurtner’s satisfaction{122} mounted into a stupefaction of content, and she doubted whether Lady Grote herself could have got together a more notable assembly. Never had anyone so out-distanced all competitors as she during these last six weeks of feverish progress in the race of aspiring hostesses; her rate of evolution would have dumbfounded Darwin, and to-night all that was absolutely brightest and best in the London firmament was eating her dinner, while the remainder of the stars were bidden to the concert afterwards; indeed, all the rest of the London heavens that night must be bare of constellations. It cannot be said that her success had improved her, but she retained her power of enjoyment, and never had she enjoyed herself so much as to-night.

She fancied she had made a quantity of intimate friends among all these brilliant acquaintances, for long lists had been added to the number of those with whom she was on “Christian name terms.” This was a favourite crop of her cultivation, and she had during those last weeks plucked bushels of fruit from it. She had a very successful technique with regard to this harvesting, for when talking, for instance, to Lady Massingberd, she let slip a “Gracie” as if by accident, and instantly begged her pardon, saying that she always thought of her like that. Of course Lady Massingberd, as a well-bred person, had no other course open except to beg that she might continue to be Gracie, and down came the ripe plum for “Aline.” But she was never so silly as to allude to the absent by their Christian names, unless she had already plucked them, for such a proceeding was bound to be found out. With men she adopted a different procedure: instead of addressing them by their mistered surname, she began gently by speaking to them by their mistered Christian name. Then she unmistered the Christian name, and continued{123} without apology, for she knew that most men rather liked being spoken to thus by attractive women.

Attractive she certainly was, with her enjoyment, her high spirits, her comely face, and her beautiful figure, always perfectly and rather unusually dressed. To-night her tiara and long string of pearls and her girdle of emeralds slept undisturbed in her jewel-safe, and only one diamond out of all those gems was allowed to come down to dinner. But that one happened to be the great Grinski diamond, which hung on a thin platinum chain round her neck. Everyone knew it by sight or by the coveting sense, for the purchase of it about a month ago by an unknown buyer had roused the wildest curiosity. Most people believed that Mrs. Pounce had got it, but Mrs. Pounce would certainly have appeared with it (or rather behind it) next day. As it was, the diamond had altogether vanished until to-night, when it blazed at the head of the table.

She had a gown of soft silver mail with a gold thread running through it that clung close to her beautiful figure, and moved as the pattern on a snake-skin moves when the snake stirs. No one had had a glimpse of that model before—she had taken good care of that—and even Lord Thorley, who had never been known to notice a dress, turned to his neighbour quite early in dinner, and said, dropping his pince-nez, “Surely our hostess has a very pretty dress on.” From him that was almost as much as if he had noticed a very pretty woman.

Aline had her eyes and ears everywhere: she saw the French Ambassador looking like Dante ascending the rounds of the Paradiso, as dish after exquisite dish was offered to him. She saw the multiplied vivacity of the faces round her table, she heard the laughter and the gay voices rising higher and higher. She bathed and{124} swam in that, while, all the time, her attention seemed at the service of the German Ambassador, who sat next her, and, in his analytical Prussian manner, was translating the omens of her dinner-party into terms of international cordiality. He had not been very long in England, and so knew more about the English than anybody present. His imperially groomed moustache wagged amiably, and seemed to endorse by its emphatic movements the truth of his gratifying sentiments.

“This is the most auspicious of gatherings,” he was saying, “for, dear lady, I claim both you and your husband as my most esteemed compatriots, and now I see in your house as never before have I seen so representatively gathered together, all that England stands for, her power and wealth, and the friendliness which so characterizes her.”

He dropped his voice a moment.

“I had the supreme honour to receive the most interesting communication from the Emperor to-day,” he said, “expressing his gracious (leutselig) desire to be kept accurately in touch with all that concerns England. His affection for her, the land of his ever-beloved mother, is, after his love for his father’s fatherland, the strongest emotion that animates his intense activities. He hopes to visit England in the autumn, though perhaps that had better go no further at present.”

Aline completely recalled her gratified eyes and ears from the rest of the sparkling and resounding table. Perhaps if she was clever, there might be even greater things than these in store for her.

“You can perfectly trust me,” she said. “And I can’t tell your Excellency what a cult I have for that great and glorious man. There is no one in the world, I am sure, like him. He is what I mean by a king. I am half-Prussian, as you know, and when I think of the{125} Emperor, I really am afraid that I forget I am English too.”

The Ambassador raised his glass from the table, held it up for a moment, and then drank, admirably conveying, as he meant to, that he was drinking a toast.

Aline Gurtner followed suit with her glass.

“Surely no other king who ever reigned,” continued he, “has such an inspired sense of his duties and responsibilities. His object in coming to England is to disperse the cruel misunderstandings that the English have somehow conceived about him. So many people, even in high places, think of him as a potential enemy, rather than the best friend that England possesses. And his desire to know the English, and all the problems and difficulties of their national life, is hardly second to his desire that Germany—calm, peaceful Germany—should be known by them. In his letter he referred with the utmost concern to the troubles in Ireland. What am I to tell him about that? You who know everybody, and what everybody is saying, must tell me what to say to him. I called at the Foreign Office this afternoon, but I was met with a good deal of reserve. Privately, what do you think? Do the Government take a very serious view of the recalcitrant province?”

Now it would have required a much stronger head than Aline Gurtner’s not to be a little intoxicated with being asked by the representative of a great foreign Power what her opinion was on a burning political question of the day. She did not know much about Ireland, but instantly she began to see herself in the character here deftly indicated, namely, the confidante of Ministers. It was a very pleasant picture, and she instantly posed for it. It was as if a photographer asked her to turn her head a shade to the right.

“I am sure that they are terribly anxious about it,{126}” she said. “They think civil war is more than a possibility.”

“Indeed! Alas and indeed! The Emperor will be broken-hearted to hear that,” said he, not looking at her. “That will be bitter news to him. God avert it! And then there are labour troubles threatening, so Sir Hermann told me. It will be a sad letter I shall have to send to the All-Highest. You have met him, of course?”

The bitter pill of confession was sweetened by the jam of anticipation.

“No, never,” she said.

He looked at her in obvious surprise: the surprise was, perhaps, a shade too obvious.

“But that must be remedied,” he said. “I will see to it that that is remedied. How I wish he was here to-night, for he glories in the splendour of such houses as yours. Ah, excuse me, but I think the Princess is attempting to catch your eye. I could quarrel with her for that.”

He made his formal bow to her, with heels clicked together as they all rose, and waited napkin in hand while the ladies passed out. The information he had gained from her was not in itself of very great importance, but it served to confirm, in its small manner, the conclusion to which more solid evidence had brought him, namely, that the country was on the verge of serious disturbances. Then his host came round the table and recommended another glass of port before a cigar.

All that evening Aline Gurtner walked upon air. There could be no comparison between this entertainment and that given by any other hostess in London, because none came within measurable distance of it: from this colossal foreground all else retired into remote horizons. Thanks to her audacious wisdom in only{127} asking in quite a few after-dinner guests, the concert never lost a charming air of informality, and it appeared merely as if among her guests there just happened to be a few people who sang, a world-wide composer who conducted a first performance of one of his compositions for the band, who (most conveniently) happened to be stationed on the raised dais at one end of the largest ball-room in London. When Kuhlmann’s turn came, he merely left the sofa on which he was sitting with Lady Grote, and returned there when he had sung: Saalfeld made a little bow to the Princess, when he was wanted to conduct his symphonic poem, and she promised to keep his place for him, which she did, though allowing Lady Gurtner to occupy it while he was on the platform.

A ten minutes’ interval was necessary for the band to bestow themselves in the gallery, while curtains were drawn across the stage for the erection of the scenery for Endymion, and people got up and moved about and were attracted into fresh groupings. Then the first magical chords sounded, and in the depth of Bakst’s forest, with its monstrous flowers and its erotic trees, the intoxicating little drama full of boundings and gestures and postures of suggested and veiled lasciviousness, stripped off the broadcloth lendings of civilization and Grundyism and swept everyone back under the spell of a pagan and Hellenic night. Satyrs and Hamadryads lurked behind the trees, eyes gleamed from behind the flowers, limbs burned behind the leaves, and when it was over and the lights were turned up again, Lady Gurtner’s guests felt that their souls had come out of them, and joined the invisible watchers who peopled the enchanted woods. The first impulse was not to applaud, but to be sure that you had all your clothes on....

So much cerebral excitement had, of course, produced a desire for further sustenance, and at the conclusion{128} of this there was something substantial ready in the dining-room, where for the long table had been substituted a quantity of small round tables. It was still barely after midnight, and after the departure of the Princess, most of the guests dispersed in quest of some ball until it was time to eat again and eventually go to bed about four in the morning; for the last days of the London season had come, and there was nothing more important in the world than to escape missing anything that might amuse. Very soon now would come the annual dispersal, and the more healthy and active would be invigorating themselves on moor and Highland river, while the gouty and dyspeptic would seek the restoration necessary to enable them to renew their youth and appetites by the sad waters of Marienbad. Others would make little imitation Londons on the East coast, others would flock to Baireuth and Munich, and all would do their very best to suck out the final ounce of sweetness from life.

But, above everything, it was important to lose no time: even for the young the years sped too fast, while elderly hands clutched impotently at the shower of golden leaves blown past them on the wings of the wind of autumn. Indeed, there was no time to lose for anybody who wanted a run for his or somebody else’s money. Money and time and health—here were the great Trinity of human needs.

Though Aline Gurtner was anxious to “go on” to a dance, the events of the evening had been quite sufficiently gratifying to enable her to wait without impatience till the last of the guests had gone. There was no fleck or flaw in her triumphant satisfaction, for apart from the brilliant success of her party, there had been several gratifying little items thrown in. The Princess had asked her to lunch on Saturday, bidding{129} her steel herself for a very dull hour or two in her poky little house, and had thanked her for the most delicious evening. “And Endymion, oh,” she said, “I was shocked! So naughty! Good-night, de-ar.”

Then Lady Grote, who mattered almost more, had been immensely cordial.

“My dear Aline,” she said, calling her by her Christian name for the first time, “if you weren’t such a darling, I should be furious with you for giving the only party that ever happened. Good-night, and a thousand thanks. You must come to me at Grote as soon as you get back from Baireuth. Yes, I am giving Mr. Kuhlmann a lift. He is not going on to any stupid dance any more than I am. Anything more this evening would simply bore me. After the best, bed. Good-night, Aline.”

And then, even outshining those gratifying things was the remembrance of the German Ambassador’s promise to remedy the fact of her never having met the Emperor. Though she was not aware of having any Hohenzollern blood in her wholesome comely body, she felt some call of it to that serene philosophical country from which her father had come. She delighted in the fact that the Kaiser’s compassionate heart would be wrung with grief when he heard tidings of the unrest in Ireland, that the knightliest of mankind would nobly sorrow when he was told that trouble was anticipated in the land from which his mother came.

The wagging of unkind tongues, of course, had before now pealed at her that the Kaiser’s piety towards his mother was not deserving of any especial monument; but now she dismissed all these insensate rumours. With what clenching of the mailed fist did he determine that never should trouble arise between his fatherland and his motherland! How sure a guarantee was that{130} of the peace of a world that was so often only too prone to take a prejudiced view of him! And perhaps even she to-night had been given the opportunity of warning him, through the medium of his Ambassador, that England was sorely troubled about the unrest in the Emerald Isle. Perhaps the Ambassador, in his letter to-morrow, would mention the source of his information, and then, who knew but that when the Kaiser visited London, in the autumn or the winter, the “remedy” of which His Excellency had spoken might comprise in its ingredients not only a mere introduction, but even a visit here? What would she not do to have the Emperor at her table? There was nothing in the world she would not do. And clearly, to her mind, slightly inebriated with success, so stupendous a project was not absolutely unthinkable.

Her last guests on their departure, leaving her free to go to some further diversion which should shorten the hours of the night by lengthening them, found her a little distracted, for already she was moving freely in Imperial circles. It was not only those sumptuous projects that enthralled her, there was below them some call of the blood evoked by German talk, German guests, German singing and music. All that reinforced the perennial pull of her German marriage, so too did the thought of her three children, each three-quarters of them German, who had been permitted to come downstairs in their dressing-gowns and kiss the Princess’s hand when she made her departure.

It had been the prettiest scene: there were the three little boys, bright-eyed from the flush of their early sleep, thinking it an immense treat to be allowed to come down in the middle of the night and see a real Princess, who had been eating her good dinner with Mummie. Careful instructions had been issued to{131} them: indeed, the whole scene had been rehearsed. They were to cling to their mother’s silver-mail skirt on their first appearance, like a sort of augmented Holy Family, and then shyly advance with infantine bows and kissings of the Princess’s plump hand. It had all gone off excellently: one had said, “Good-night, Princess,” and bobbed; the next had said, “Gute Nacht, Prinzessin,” and the smallest had said “Gute night, your Rollighness.” Upon which Her Rollighness had picked them up and kissed them soundly, and said, “Good-night, you little darlings. Schlafen Sic wohl.”... And what if soon the Emperor himself did the same sort of thing? He loved domesticity, she was told, and the family life, and set his imperial face against modern ways.... Lady Gurtner wondered if she could ever have the strength of mind to drop Helen Grote, up to whom she had so long and so diligently climbed. Only a few minutes before her ears had tingled with delight at the sound of her own Christian name in the mouth of Lady Grote. Now in her ecstatic flights into the future she foresaw a time when she might pass sentence on the fact of Helen giving Kuhlmann “a lift.” But she was, on reflection, too much in the lift herself to object to the presence of other people there. Up they all went, and got out at their various floors! For a moment some echo of her earlier days, when she used to wait for buses at street corners, came back to her, and she could almost hear somebody call out, ’Igher up there.” She felt implicitly inclined to obey.

Some rather urgent telephone-call had summoned the little London fog to his business room before her last guest had left, and she could hear his voice talking in German with telephone pauses and reiterated “Hullos!” It was not wise to interrupt him when{132} there was business going on; he was weaned from all other interests if finance claimed him, and it could be nothing but finance of an urgent kind that made him so loquacious at this hour of the night. So she called up her motor and drove off, leaving word that she would be back again in a couple of hours. Only the butler or a footman and her maid would have to sit up, for, kind-hearted woman as she was, she always gave these considerate directions, for which her servants rather despised her. But she knew nothing whatever about that, and a perfectly trained man who saw her into the motor merely murmured, “Thank you, my lady,” in a voice that gave her a thrill of complacency in suggesting how kind and thoughtful she was.

She returned towards three in the morning, having had a very pleasant time at a couple of houses, and her inherent vulgarity had sunned itself and expanded its wings as she represented her party as being quite a small impromptu affair, and allowed the items of it to be almost dragged out of her.... Yes, Kuhlmann had dined, and, like an angel, had sung to them afterwards, and Saalfeld had dined, and had found his baton in his coat pocket, and had conducted his new symphonic poem. And, yes, Nijinski had come and given them “Endymion.”... Helen Grote was there, and had looked quite lovely; it was really unkind of her to make every other woman look ill-dressed and dowdy, but, of course, she couldn’t help it. The Princess seemed to have enjoyed it: she stopped till after twelve, and was delicious to the children....

It was rather a surprise to Aline to be told on her return that Sir Hermann was still up and wished to see her. She bent her tall head to receive the kiss with which he always welcomed her after the shortest absence, and, as usual, spoke German to him.{133}

“What is it?” she asked. “You look serious. Oh, don’t be serious, for I am having such a lovely time.”

“I have had very disquieting news from Berlin,” said he. “A cypher telegram came to the office, which they decoded and sent me. I had it repeated to make sure.”

Her mind instantly went back to the Emperor’s visit, and the glories that might shine on her.

“Not about the Emperor?” she asked. “He’s not ill, is he?”

“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

“Because the Ambassador told me he was coming to England in the autumn or the winter. Oh, I forgot. He told me not to mention it, but my telling you is nothing. Oh, Hermann, he was so surprised I didn’t know him, and said he must remedy that.”

He turned quickly to her.

“What?” he said. “The Emperor is coming to England? Tell me at once all His Excellency said. What was his attitude, his outlook? You are not at your party now, dearest. You are in my office, and it is business.”

He heard her delighted account of it all, gnawing his nails as he listened, a habit which was ineradicable when he was interested. He never did such a thing at Aline’s dinner-parties, because he was not really interested. Aline’s parties were a diversion, like lawn-tennis, which he played in his braces.

“Coming to England?” he repeated. “And wanting to know about Ireland? Why should he want to know about Ireland? What did you say?”

“Just what I have told you, liebster. You do not listen. And when the Emperor——”

“Repeat it,” he said, interrupting.{134}

He took a turn up and down the room while this was going on, his feet noiseless on the thick silk Persian carpet, his face reflected at various angles in the four priceless Louis XVI. mirrors, and at each step some fresh aspect of him was silently telegraphed from one to another. Sometimes he looked like a grotesque, malevolent ape, at other angles he looked like a moustached Napoleon.

“It is very disquieting,” he said at length. “Austria has sent a note to Serbia, on the subject of the murder of the Archduke, which Serbia cannot accept. That, of course, everybody knew yesterday. But now comes what nobody in this country knows, and what I heard from Berlin to-night. Germany is secretly mobilizing. I doubt really if it is known there: they talk of autumn man?uvres. But it is more than autumn man?uvres, it is mobilization, and I believe it means war. Not one word of this to anybody, Aline. You understand me: not one word, one hint.”

Suddenly he threw his arms out, shaking his fists.

“And you tell me the Emperor will come to England in the autumn or the winter,” he said. “What does that mean? Is it merely a lie to make us doze and sleep again? Or, lieber Gott, is it an irony? How does he mean to come? As a guest of the family of his mother, or as their conqueror? Answer me that! His visit here! Will he come on a warship, or on his yacht? Is he coming to the opera to listen to music, or to Westminster Abbey to be crowned? God damn these kings when they see themselves as God’s anointed. They upset finance; there is no doing anything with them!”

She laughed.

“Hermann, you are having a nightmare,” she said. “You’re talking in your sleep. The Ambassador told{135} me there was no stronger affection in the Emperor’s heart, except his love for Germany, than his affection for England. He said the Emperor would be heart-broken at the thought of trouble in Ireland.”

“Ach, Aline, you are simpler than a Parsifal,” he said impatiently. “Would he not say that in any case?”

“He wouldn’t if it was not true,” she said. “He was here as my guest: he would not tell me lies as he ate his dinner!”

Hermann kicked away a footstool that lay in the path of his prowling walk.

“And because he was here as your guest, he may not lie to you?” he asked. “That would be a queer state of things! Where’s the use of a diplomat if he may not say what will be of service to his Fatherland? What is a dinner, what is hospitality to a good German, when his brain can help his country? Indeed, heart’s dearest, you have forgotten much if you think that: you have become almost as blind as these golfing Englishmen. Is not the call of the All-Highest, the chance to serve him, to sound louder in German ears than little proverbs about eating salt? Have we all got to become members of the race we live among when we go out to dine with them?”

He resumed his walk, taking a cigar from a table as he passed, and then throwing it uncut and unlit into the fireplace.

“And what is the loudest call for me, Aline?” he asked. “Here am I, German, here am I English also, and so are you. I speak of my interests, you understand, not yet of my sympathies: I speak of my money, my business, my credit. That point will face me—it faces me now—unless I am more mistaken than I have ever been yet. I must act, and act quickly, before{136} the news I have received gets known, for there is no use in rowing, however hard, when you are once in the rapids. I have immense interests in Germany: I have immense interests here. I have to choose, before all power of choice is taken from me. War! War! What gigantic ruin may it not mean!”

She sat down limply, helplessly. All her scintillating vitality, that lived and drew its light from the brilliant surface of life, seemed drained out of her; while he to whom all her ambitions were but toys and trifles, who yawned and blinked at those great parties, except in so far that they delighted her, was transformed into a vivid, glowing personality, when problems of money and business and credit occupied him.

“But war?” she repeated. “War between England and Germany? It is inconceivable! What on earth could a quarrel arise over? What is it all about?”

“I do not say it is necessarily war between England and Germany,” said he. “I say only that Germany is mobilizing: she is striking a match—indeed, she has struck it. Will she blow it out, or will she hold it to light the paper which will light the sticks, which will cause the coal to burn? I used to have to light the fire in the office in the morning thirty years ago, and do you think I did not look how the flame spread? I had to build the fire also, and I knew how to make it catch light most easily. The paper flamed, and the sticks caught the fire if they were dry. And, good God, Europe is like a dry stick to-day. Anything will make it catch fire, and just because Russia and France and this damned little island hate Germany! And why do they hate her? Because they fear her splendid power. There is the sword wrapped round with the olive-branch. Let them beware of making her take off{137} the olive-branch, and show the steel. Who knows what the power of Germany is? Not I, not the Kaiser, not anybody——”

“But war between England and Germany?” she wailed again. “How can you believe it, with the Emperor so friendly? What is it about?”

He interrupted impatiently.

“Heart’s beloved,” he said in his accustomed formula, “do not go on like that. ‘What is it about?’ you asked me. It is about Serbia and Russia, and France and England and Germany. It is about the world, not less than that! You would not even attend if I tried to tell you. As for its being inconceivable, it is just the inconceivable that always happens. At least the man who does not take the inconceivable into his reckonings is a very poor financier. It was inconceivable that your little Japan should win a war against that great sprawling Russia. But had I not foreseen and betted on the inconceivable, we should not, you and I, be in Curzon Street, but in that little flat in West Kensington, with—with a gramophone! Take it from me there is going to be war. Will England come in? I don’t know; I have got to think. But Germany is preparing for war. Whom is she preparing to fight? Not Serbia, but that brown bear that backs Serbia. And if she fights the brown bear, what of France? And if——”

He gnawed his nails in silence a moment, and his mind flew back to the question as to how he personally, his money and his credit would be affected.

“Luckily my interests in Germany are widely distributed,” he said. “I can realize a million or so without attracting much attention. That I must certainly do. God! I wish I could be in Berlin for ten minutes. I would give ten thousand pounds a minute{138} for ten minutes in Berlin. And yet I know all I want to know. I have the data that matter!”

He paused opposite her, and his mind was distracted from the problems which she could not follow, to the problem of her, and all that her life meant to her.

“All that is nothing to you, Aline,” he said. “My dearest, I would never let you want anything that money can buy. But now for our sympathies: where do our sympathies lie? Is it ‘Deutschland über Alles’ for us, or is it England über Deutschland? Answer me that! I speak to you now: I do not just ask you to listen while I talk to myself. If the worst comes to the worst what are we? What do we stand for? Are you going to be English, or are you going to be German? If German, let us not pause: let us walk under the limes in Berlin....”

She was totally incapable of appreciating the magnitude of such a choice: it only reached her in the way that a great rain-storm raging without, just leaks in at the interstices of some window sash, and perhaps makes an infinitesimal puddle on the floor. Nothing greater than that, at the moment, had access to her mind: she could only think of all the pleasant social schemes that shone so rosily in her brain half an hour before, and she began to talk rapidly and half hysterically:

“Oh, I can’t believe it!” she said. “There can be no decision of the sort before me. I’ve got such a full week ahead, there are a hundred engagements I must keep, and then there’s Baireuth. Surely I can go to Baireuth, Hermann, can’t I? Our tickets are taken for the first cycle, and you’ve engaged a saloon carriage and ordered my cabin on the boat and everything? Oh, don’t let everything be spoiled for me; I was enjoying myself so much without doing anybody{139} any harm, and only giving them the most lovely parties.

“Then there are all my English friends, and you can’t imagine how many intimate friends I’ve got now among the real people—the people who matter. How can I weigh my sympathies in that cold way? We must wait to see what happens and go on being good friends with everybody. Think who was here to-night! German and English and French, and all so friendly, and all dining with us! Surely if you are right, and there is a war, it cannot last very long. You always said that Germany could walk across France whenever she chose, just as you walk across the Park. It would be very sad, but if it’s got to happen, I suppose it’s got to happen, and the sooner it’s over the better. And if we don’t go to Baireuth, we must have some parties down in the country. But I can’t believe it yet: we were so friendly with Germany, and no one could have been pleasanter than the Princess and the Ambassador were to each other. Kuhlmann, too, he is singing in opera here all this week and the next. What will Helen do about him? Will she have to decide? And your cure: won’t you be able to go to Marienbad?”

He interrupted her violently, for her twopenny interests had weaned his uxoriousness from him again.

“Ah, do not be such a baby,” he said. “Can you think of nothing but your operas and your dinner-parties? The cataclysm is upon us, and the whole world is going into the cannon’s mouth, and yet you say, ‘Let there be a special cool corner for me in the cannon, where I shall not feel the explosion.’ Who cares whether you go to Baireuth or I to Marienbad? Who are we? That is the question——”

She always cried easily when anything affecting her own personal comfort was concerned; if she missed{140} a train her great blue eyes filled with tears, as she thought how unkind it was of the engine-driver to start before she arrived. The prime duty of everybody was to make things nice for her, since she made things nice for so many others.... So now she began to sob, and the great diamond rose and fell in an agitated manner over her heaving bosom.

“You are horrid to me,” she said. “You scold and scream at me when I am absolutely wretched and want to be comforted. All my pleasure is spoiled, and instead of sympathizing with me, you call me a baby. When you squeezed your finger in the door last week, I did not laugh at you: I tore up one of my best handkerchiefs and bound it up for you. I spend my life in slaving for you, and getting people to come here who might be useful to you. And when I am unhappy, this is all you do——”

He looked at her a moment, as she lay back in her chair clad in that wonderful soft silver mail with the gold line running through it, and the paltriness of her desolation faded from his view, leaving only the desolation.

He seated himself on the arm of her chair, and with his thick, capable fingers caressed her arm. They were squat and strong, like the toes of an Arab.

“You are tired, my dearest,” he said; “think no more of these troubles. I did not think you were tired, it did not occur to me, you who are never tired, so your Hermann did not make allowances, and you must forgive him. Go to bed now and get a good night’s rest, and we shall see how things are in the morning. But whatever happens, my Aline, I shall be here to look after you.”

“But you’ve been very unkind,” said she. “I hate unkindness. I am never unkind.{141}”

“I know, and I have asked your forgiveness. I cannot do more than that.”

Never before this evening of her supreme success had her character, the thing she really was, so betrayed itself. She was like a spoiled child: everything that she wanted must be given her, and if she did not want a European war, that must be stopped instantly, because she disliked it. Anyone who did not at once provide her with what she desired, who did not glory in her pleasure, thinking it an honour to contribute to it, who did not agonize over her disappointments, again thinking it an honour wholly to sacrifice himself to averting and nullifying them, was a callous monster, who must not at once be forgiven, even if he professed penitence. The growing intoxication of those last weeks, culminating to-night, had gone to her head like some new wine, and it had become everyone’s duty, her husband’s first of all, to pet and pat and admire her, to go “wholly from themselves,” in their adoration of her, and to shield her from everything that could threaten to vex her. Her concentrated self-centredness had suddenly shot up in flower, like the aloe that stores within it, before its flowering, the energy of twenty years.

“But how do I know you really feel for me?” she asked, wanting to get a more complete and abject surrender from him. “It is easy to say you are sorry: that costs you nothing.”

Right at the back of her mind, not vividly presented to it, was the thought of some sables, which even he had refused to buy for her at the price demanded. He had bought her some silver-fox instead, as a means of diplomatic delay. She thought of the sables....

“The news to-night will cost me enough,” said he, “unless I am very careful and also very quick.{142}”

“You are thinking only of your money—that is all that concerns you,” she said. “As if it were not easy enough for you to make more money. But you do not feel for me. All my pleasure is taken away, and you hint that I must lose half my friends, too. You do not care for friends: they mean nothing to you, and you cannot understand my misery. You tell me I shall have to say what my sympathies are, and if they are German, I shall lose my English friends, and if they are English, I shall lose my German friends. That’s what you mean, and you think that to me it is only like drawing a card out of a pack. I have no quarrel with anybody: I want to be friends with all. Besides, there is not war yet. You may be wrong about it: you mustn’t think you are always right. And if you are wrong, you have been making me miserable for nothing.”

It was no use reasoning with the unreasonable, and he wanted to keep the activity of his faculties for something more remunerative than that.

“Well, then, we will hope I am wrong,” he said, “and then my ownest heart’s-dearest Aline will be happy again. Now, darling, you must go to bed at once. It will be dawn in an hour or two, and if you do not get some sleep, your eyes will be dull to-morrow, and that will never do. Leave me now: I must sit up and think and work for an hour more, and all the time it will be you I am thinking and working for. You know how I make my eyes dull for your brightness, you Joy of mine.”

She was content enough with that to condescend to be comforted. It pleased her insatiable self-centredness to think that her husband would be working for her while she slept. She rose and kissed him.

“There!” she said, “I trust you: you are quite,{143} quite forgiven. I know you will make it all right, you will see that my pleasure and happiness are not taken away from me by any stupid quarrels with which I have nothing to do. Work for a little while longer, if you insist on it. And when you come up to bed, will you come ever so quietly? I may be just going off to sleep, and if you disturb me, I shall begin thinking about all those horrid things again, and shall lie awake miserable till morning.”

“Sleep well,” said he.

 

Hermann Gurtner, like most successful men in any walk of life, had a great power of absorbed meditation, that went on unconsciously in his brain, while the more superficial part of it was actively engaged in receiving and examining and noting the information on which his decision would be based. Now, when he was left alone, he spread those sources in front of his brain, and his intelligence darted about, now scrutinizing one, now another, while the subconscious distillation from them soaked into his inmost mind. At other moments he stirred them all up together, and put their stewing-pot back over the fire, with the lid on, letting them simmer and bubble together in the dark and the heat and the steam. For the next hour he did this, occasionally walking up and down his room, but for the most part sitting quite still in his chair, biting his nails.

He was intensely anxious: the whole situation seemed to him about as menacing as a situation could be; but as a counterweight to this anxiety, he enjoyed the ecstasy that always accompanies the exercise to the utmost of trained and sharpened faculties. He would infinitely have preferred a serene world, unmenaced by war, but since he had not got the ordering of that, he was like a jackal waiting for the result of the{144} battle of the lions. There would be bits to pick up, discarded fragments of provender, even before the imperial beasts proceeded to tear each other, for in that national excitement they would have forgotten about their dinner.... It was but little to them, but it would make an immense store for a jackal.

Thus it was not only, nor indeed mainly, the possible cataclysm that confronted him: he saw with at least as much lucidity, the possibility of a huge financial coup for himself, possessed as he was of information known probably only to the War Council in Germany, and to his agent in Berlin. The War Council’s policy for the moment was clearly to observe the utmost possible secrecy....

There were several pictures which he unrolled and spread out before his mind. The first and the largest of all was the cypher message he had received from his agent in Berlin, that throughout the length and breadth of Germany secret mobilization of the armies was going on, under the excuse of “autumn man?uvres.” He did not doubt what those “autumn man?uvres” were to be, for earlier in the week he had ascertained that there was tremendous activity in Krupps’ Works at Essen. No doubt the English Cabinet was also aware of this, but the English Cabinet was not “out” to make money. They would talk about it, and consider what it meant, and no doubt make arrangements in view of its meaning what it certainly did mean; but in the interval, he, financier and business man, was free to act while they were considering national defence.

All his life he had relied entirely on his own judgment, had never had a partner in his business, and from the time that he had sat, an office boy, on the hard stool of a German house in London, with the fire to build, and this difficult English language to learn,{145} he had found no reason for trusting the opinion of others more highly than his own....

Germany was secretly mobilizing.... Krupps’ works were forging and hammering night and day.... A third ingredient in the boiling-pot was the news which his wife had given him, namely, that the German Ambassador was anxious to know what the feeling in England was with regard to trouble in Ireland. When she told him that, he had drawn no conclusions from it, except that the statement that the Emperor would be heart-broken when he heard of the seriousness of the position, could not possibly be true. There must be something behind that, something that accounted more reasonably for the Emperor’s grief when he should hear that there was a possibility, if not more, of civil war in Ireland. But what could it be? These inquiries and their ludicrous interpretation meant something. It was not the German way to take the trouble to acquire information, unless it was to be of some use. Twice he peered into the stewing-pot, and found that ingredient still unsoftened and uncooked by the boiling it experienced over his hot fire of his brain. It remained still hard and unfit to add sustenance to the stew....

 

Then suddenly this intractable material liquefied on the touch of a conjecture. What if Germany wanted to ascertain whether England would be so much immersed in internal troubles, as not to be able to get her head above the troubled sea of European tumult? And, at that conjecture, all his acumen shouted approbation to him, as at the solving of a riddle in Dumb-Crambo.

In this fresh light he went over again all that he had previously examined. Austria had made unreasonable and preposterous demands on Serbia and Russia{146} had remonstrated. That was all that was officially known. To-night’s private information from Berlin had told him that Germany was preparing for war. From that he had deduced that Germany was arming herself against Russia, and if Russia persisted in her remonstrance, she would find the Central Empires against her. France would necessarily range herself with Russia. And would Great Britain join her European Allies?

It was that, just exactly that, which Germany wanted to know. Irish troubles might make it impossible for England to do so. And in that case both Russia and France might be already considered as crushed. What chance had they against that huge military machine? It was as if a man with a shot-gun set out to attack an adversary with a repeating rifle. And, apart from that, there was the German fleet. Supposing England was not taking a hand, how the great Deutschland Dreadnoughts would sweep down the Channel, and reduce Calais and Boulogne and Dieppe and Havre to ruins! Deutschland could land its armies where it chose in France, while other armies, sweeping through Belgium, drove the French before them. Of course, there was some sort of obsolete document which forbade an invader to set foot on that silly little soil. That mattered nothing. Germany might or might not take the trouble to declare war on Belgium, in order to get at France.

But if England came in?

There was no question of “sympathies” now. That topic which had so disturbed his wife had long vanished from his consciousness, and he wanted only to make clear to his mind the interests on which he could with the least possible risk stake his money. For the instinct of making money had been his since he first{147} sat on the office-stool, and it was not for sixteen years after that that he had thought of domestically satisfying his home needs. He had always had a kindly, affectionate heart, and, since he first met Aline, that general affection had been concentrated and consecrated into passion for her. Apart from money, he wanted nothing else but her. But in this moment interest, not affection and sympathy, directed the gnawing of his nails.

There was going to be war: of that he made no doubt whatever. And a very little thought convinced him that if there was war, England would somehow have to be in it, whatever the anxieties of the Irish question might be. For if she did not come in now, the day—der Tag itself—was assuredly not far off when France and Russia would be annihilated, and, when once that was done, who could doubt that Germany would turn her victorious arms against the real enemy, the one Power that stood between her and the dominion of the world. Sooner or later England must fight, for Germany had decreed the Armageddon, but was she going to fight now?

That was precisely what Germany wanted to know, and unless Hermann Gurtner was much mistaken, the German Ambassador’s view was that she was not. Had he shared that belief, he would drain out without delay from his English interests every penny of his millions, for with France and Russia crushed, even the Empire founded upon the seas could not single-handed resist that tremendous war-machine of the Fatherland. At its ease it could march through India and through Egypt, and with its fleet free in the oceans of the world, it could reduce that awful little focus of world-power, confined in two insignificant islands, one of which already reeked with sedition, to a compass{148} commensurate with its acres. Stupid as the English were, they would realize that.

The more he let this all stew and simmer in his brain, the less capable he felt of believing that England would stand aside. She might or might not consider that her treaty obligations compelled her to intervene, but she would surely see that her only chance of defeating Germany lay in joining and assisting the Entente now and without delay. Otherwise she would have to bear the full weight of the invincible land-empire alone.

Perfidious she always was, but she had a terribly good notion as to how to take care of herself. And with her perfidiousness, there was strangely mingled some quixotic sort of instinct, that would compel her to the sane course. None knew better than he that Germany, having declared war on France, would sweep through Belgium in order to attack her on her vulnerable front. Belgium would quite certainly appeal to England on the violation of her treaty-protected territory, and it was exactly that sort of call that this impossible, selfish and quixotic nation was apt to listen to. For himself he saw no reason for the existence of little Powers; the sooner they were absorbed, one way or the other, in the great States the better, for the time was passed for the existence of such little vineyards of Naboth. England would come in....

Till this moment it was entirely the consideration of his interests that had absorbed him, but suddenly, like a great tidal wave sweeping in from a calm ocean, his sympathies declared themselves and submerged everything else. “Der Tag” had dawned; faint and dim in the East were the lines of morning that portended the day for which all good Germans had been watching since their consciousness of the greatness of their nation had awoke in them. And before the sun{149} that illumined “Der Tag” declined from the zenith, all the world would have forgotten what war or the strife of nations meant, since they would have basked in the peace and prosperity that had come to the unquiet planet, as soon as Germany fulfilled her destiny, and owned the seas and the continents of the earth. There would be years of trouble first, for selfish and arrogant nations must suffer the penalties of their wilful blindness, and be winnowed like chaff in the great pure wind that should scatter their pretensions, and purge their pride; but he did not doubt that at the end the world would pass into possession of his Fatherland.

Yes: the day was dawning. The selfish, incompetent mistress of the seas, who proclaimed that the seas were free so long as her navy had complete command of them, must give place to a nobler possessor, under whose rule they would be free because there was none to enslave them, but the master of sea and land alike. The time had come for the cessation of the old civilizations and ownerships warring one against another, and protecting themselves by treaties and their silly signatures. Treaties must be torn up, rules that had applied to the protection of separate States must have no meaning now, since separate States, with their rights and their boundaries, would soon become dead relics of the past. All means, treachery and feigned surrender, Red Cross to protect a battery of guns, slaughter or torture of prisoners, piracy by sea, firing on unarmed vessels—all and every device of the kind was not allowable only but laudable and noble, in order, as swiftly as possible, to secure for the world the ?ons of serenity and peace that should come with the German domination of the planet. Deutschland über Alles!

His sympathies had shot up like a star-shell, and made their signal. Whether or no his wife knew where{150} her sympathies lay, he, in this silent hour before dawn, had made his choice. But that did not stand in the way of his making more millions also, and with a re-invigorated spirit, he put the lid on his sympathies, and turned to his interests.

England was coming in, and without doubt that would be a severe shock to Germany. German bonds would undoubtedly fall, and though his sympathies were utterly German, there was no reason why he should not make money out of his instinct that Germany was wrong if she thought England would stand aside. He had already given orders that his head clerk should wait up all night in his office in the city, and he rang up the number on the telephone.

“Gurtner,” he said, when he got through. “Yes; I am Sir Hermann. Sell a million pounds of German threes as soon as the Stock Exchange opens in the morning. Get the best price you can, but sell.”

He sat for a moment considering. Yes: that was sound. It was quite certain that German shares would go down, as soon as it was known that England was going to take a hand in the war. Then he would buy at the lower price; they would fall not less than ten points.

England was to be considered next. He was staking, with certainty in his mind, on war. English funds would also go down. And he transacted a similar sale.

There was yet another side of the question to consider, another group of opportunities to be grasped. War must necessarily cause national funds, consols, and such like to decline, but war had its needs, it had to be supplied with sinews. With England at war, freights would rise, and shipping shares would immediately be in demand; coal would be in demand, steel and ammunition shares would soar. So again using his telephone he sent orders to his office for the purchase{151} of a block of shares in a colliery which even in days of peace would be an attractive investment, and for the purchase of shares in a couple of shipping companies.

Then as regards steel works and ammunition. There were certain English companies which were doing good business even in days of peace, and once again he took up the telephone to order a purchase of Vickers and Maxim. But for a moment he hesitated: here was he, of German birth, proposing to buy an interest in a company that manufactured guns that should deal death in squirts of lead to his countrymen. Some instinct within him faintly protested, but next moment he had answered its ridiculous misgivings with a silencing reply, for not a German more would be killed if he bought Vickers’ shares than if he did not, and it was mere washy sentimentality that demurred. The only actual result would be that if he bought them, he would certainly make money, which was what he was sent into the world for. That was unanswerable, and by the same reasoning there was no cause for his refraining to buy Krupps’ shares: not an English life the more would be lost because he bought them. These, however, it would be wise to purchase in Berlin, in the name of his agent there: if he wanted to sell at a profit he could no doubt negotiate the sale through Switzerland.

Yet still he hesitated a little. What would be the effect, if it were known, here in England, that on the eve of war he bought Krupps’? Or what in Germany, if it were known that he had bought Vickers’ and Maxim’? And then, once more he swept such halting counsels of prudence aside. Every investment, at that rate, would raise a question of sympathies, whereas in reality it was merely a question of interests. He must keep the two apart, for it would never do to let sentiment interfere with money-making.

A faint light began to steal through the chinks between the brocade curtains, and looking out, he saw that the tired light of a morning that seemed unwilling to awake had flooded the sky, and wanly illuminated the empty streets. Aline had deprecated any risk of his waking her, and in any case he must get up early and go down to the city. It seemed hardly worth while going to bed at all, and he lay down on the sofa to sleep for an hour or two.

He slept well, for he had done a good night’s work. He was convinced that in a few weeks’ time England and Germany would be at war. His promptitude in acting in that conviction could not finally be worth less than half a million. That made a comfortable pillow.... That would be a decent insurance against war risks....

Through the chinks of the curtains grew, brighter every moment, the light of “Der Tag. ”