d with the plans of the machine.

The French were almost popular. The Kaiser had spoken of them as
"brave foes." What quarrel could France and Germany have? France
had been the dupe of England. Cartoons of the hairy, barbarous
Russian and the futile little Frenchman in his long coat, borne on
German bayonets or pecking at the boots of a giant Michael, were not
in fashion. For Germany was then trying to arrange a separate peace
with both France and Russia. She was ready to yield at least part of
Alsace-Lorraine to France. When the negotiations fell through,
cartoonists were again free to make sport of the aenemic Gaul and
the untutored Slav. It was not alone in Germany that a responsive
Press played the weather vane to Government wishes; but in
Germany the machinery ran smoothest.

For the first time I knew what it was to have a human being whom I
had never seen before hate me. At sight of me a woman who had
been a good Samaritan, with human kindness and charity in her
eyes, turned a malignant devil. Stalwart as Minerva she was, a fair-
haired German type of about thirty-five, square-shouldered and
robustly attractive in her Red Cross uniform. Being hungry at the
station at Hanover, I rushed out of the train to get something to eat,
and saw some Frankfurter sandwiches on a table in front of me as I
alighted.

My hand went out for one, when I was conscious of a movement and
an exclamation which was hostile, and looked up to see Minerva, as
her hand shot out to arrest the movement of mine, with a blaze of
hate, hard, merciless hate, in her eyes, while her lips framed the
word, "Englisher!" If looks were daggers I should have been pierced
through the heart. Perhaps an English overcoat accounted for her
error. Certainly, I promptly recognized mine when I saw that this was
a Red Cross buffet. An Englishman had dared to try to buy a
sandwich meant for German soldiers! She might at least glory in the
fact that her majestic glare had made me most uncomfortable as I
murmured an apology which she received with a stony frown.

A moment later a soldier approached the buffet. She leaned over,
smiling, as gentle as she had been fierce and malignant a moment
before, making a picture, as she put some mustard on a sandwich for
him, which recalled that of the Frenchwoman among the wounded in
the freight shed at Calais--a simile which would anger them both.

The Frenchwoman, too, had a Red Cross uniform; she, too,
expressed the merc