ed over
the glorious show, so dear to the heart of a Viennese. But John once
more thought the excitement was not warranted by a little war with a
little country like Servia.

They devoted three or four days to Vienna, a capital, they had often
heard, as gay as Paris, and certainly splendid in appearance, but
pleasure seemed to hang fire. There was a cloud over the city, the
cheering and singing parades went on all through the nights, but at
times in the day the spirits of men seemed to droop.

John told himself over and over again that this heavy change in the
atmosphere was not justified by the size of Servia. The three of them
once more and often bewailed their lack of German. People talked all
around them and they heard nothing. Austrians who hitherto had a fair
knowledge of English forgot it entirely, when they were asked questions.

The Senator in the privacy of their rooms thundered and thundered. He
hated all this secrecy. He wondered what those men were doing at
Schoenbrunn in the name of the old Emperor. As for himself he liked the
arena of public life in the United States, where you rolled up your
sleeves--such was his metaphor--and told what you were for and what you
were against, without fear or favor. Democracies did wrong or rather
foolish things, but in them it was impossible for a few military
leaders, hid in a palace, to play with the lives of hundreds of
thousands.

John, although saying nothing, agreed with him fully. The last three or
four days had depressed him in a manner unusual in one so young. His
silent rebuff by Kempner had hurt his spirit to an extent far beyond the
nature of the incident, and, realizing it, he wondered why. He kept a
sharp watch in the streets for the young Austrian, but he did not see
him again.

At last there came a time when the greatest of all thunderbolts fell. It
was the simple hand of a waiter that caused it to fall. The others had
finished their coffee and rolls at breakfast and had gone out, leaving
John alone at the table.

"What is the matter with Vienna?" he said casually to the waiter, who he
knew could speak English.

The man hesitated, then he leaned over and said in a fearful whisper:

"It's not a little war. It's not just a war with Servia which we can
finish in a week, but it's to be such a war as the world has never
seen."

John started, looked up at the man. His face was intensely earnest. How
should one in his humble calling have news of such