l the Kaiser's Alexandrian and
Napoleonic dream is accomplished. If he wins this war, he'll turn his
eyes in other directions, for new worlds to conquer. With Europe
subdued, there is Egypt, India, America. Lamartine said, 'It is not
the country, but liberty, that is most imperilled by war.'"

"What did he mean?" Margaret asked.

"'That every victorious war means for the victorious nation a loss of
political liberty, whilst for the vanquished it is a foundation of
inspiration and democratic progress.'" [1]

"Oh, Mike, and if we win? I mean, when we win?"

"As our cause is the cause of right over might, ours is not a war of
aggression or annexation. He was speaking of an aggressive war."

"Who was speaking?"

"Well, I was voicing Hermann Fernau, the brave Liberal who is exiled
from the Fatherland. I can't give you his exact words, but he says
something like this in his wonderful book, _Germany and Democracy_:
'For what would happen if we Germans emerged victorious from this war?
Our victory would only mean a strengthening of the dynastic principle
of arbitrary power all along the line. Those of us who bewail the
political backwardness of our Fatherland must realize that a German
victory would prolong this backward condition for centuries. And not
only Germany, but the whole of Europe, would have to suffer the
consequences.'"

"Fancy a German saying that!"

"There are some sane Germans left, darling. Fernau belongs to the
small band of German Liberals who have been driven from their country."

The taxi had reached the garden-square. They got out and Michael
prodigally overpaid the driver. The man took the money.

"I'd have driven you for nothing, sir," he said delightedly, "if the
car was my own. I was young once, and so was the missus." He saluted
respectfully.

As they turned into the quiet little garden, Michael said happily,
"Why, Meg, what a dear little bit of France! How did you discover it?"

"My hospital's just across the square, and so is my bedroom. This is
my sitting-room."

They found a quiet seat amongst the tombstones and sat down, a typical
resort for a Tommy and his sweetheart. When they had been seated for a
few moments, Michael said:

"It's a far cry to the Valley, and the little wooden hut, and the tombs
of the Pharaohs, Meg."

Meg's eyes swept the garden-square; the laburnum-tree was shedding
flakes of gold from its long tassels; they were falling like yellow
rain in