ll me, do you see any possibility of failure, from the standpoint of a
great politician, in your attitude?"

"I do not," he answered. "On the contrary, I am proud of all that I have
done in that direction. For the reduction of our armaments I accept the
full responsibility. It is true that I have opposed national service. I
want to see the people develop commercially. The withdrawing of a million
of young men, even for a month every year, from their regular tasks,
would not only mean a serious loss to the manufacturing community, but it
would be apt to unsettle and unsteady them. Further, it would kindle in
this country the one thing I am anxious to avoid--the military spirit. We
do not need it, Duchess. We are a peace-loving nation, civilised out of
the crude lust for conquest founded upon bloodshed. I do believe that
geographically and from every other point of view, England, with her
navy, can afford to fold her arms, and if other nations should at any
time be foolish enough to imperil their very existence by fighting for
conquest or revenge, then we, who are strong enough to remain aloof, can
only grow richer and stronger by the disasters which happen to them."

There was a momentary silence. The Duchess leaned back in her chair, and
Mr. Hebblethwaite, always the courteous host, talked for a while to the
woman on his left. The Duchess, however, reopened the subject a few
minutes later.

"I come, you must remember, Mr. Hebblethwaite," she observed, "from long
generations of soldiers, and you, as you have reminded me, from a long
race of yeomen and tradespeople. Therefore, without a doubt, our point
of view must be different. That, perhaps, is what makes conversation
between us so interesting. To me, a conflict in Europe, sooner or
later, appears inevitable. With England preserving a haughty and insular
neutrality, which, from her present military condition, would be almost
compulsory, the struggle would be between Russia, France, Italy,
Germany, and Austria. Russia is an unknown force, but in my mind I see
Austria and Italy, with perhaps one German army, holding her back for
many months, perhaps indefinitely. On the other hand, I see France
overrun by the Germans very much as she was in 1870. I adore the French,
and I have little sympathy with the Germans, but as a fighting race I
very reluctantly feel that I must admit the superiority of the Germans.
Very well, then. With Ostend, Calais, Boulogne, and Havre seized