gh them. They were a living wedge of
people, with frantic mounted policemen trying to get them to go
somewhere else.

Bernd was so dear, and oh it was such a blessing to be near him again!
But he was solemn, and didn't smile at all except when he looked at me.
Then that dear smile that is so full of goodness changed his whole
face. "Oh Bernd, I do love you so _much_," I couldn't help whispering,
leaning forward to do it regardless of Helena who sat next to him; and
seeing by Helena's stare that she had heard, and feeling recklessly
cheerful at having got back to him, I turned on her and said, "Well, he
shouldn't smile at me in that darling way."

The Grafin laughed gently, so I knew she thought my manners bad. I've
learned that when she laughs gently she disapproves, just as I've
learned that when she says with a placid sigh that war is terrible and
must be avoided, all her hopes are bound up in its not being avoided.
Her only son is in the Cuirassiers, and is, Kloster says, a naturally
unsuccessful person. War is his chance of promotion, of making a
career. It is also his chance of death or maiming, as I said to Helena
on Sunday at Koseritz when she was talking about her brother and his
chances if there is war to the pastor, who was calling hat in hand and
very full of bows.

She stared at me, and so did the pastor. I'm afraid I plumped into the
conversation impetuously.

"I had sooner," said Helena, "that Werner were dead or maimed for life
than that he should not make a career. One's brother must not, cannot
be a failure."

And the pastor bowed and exclaimed, "That is well and finely said.
That is full of pride, of the true German patrician pride."

Helena, you see, forgot, as Germans sometimes do, not to be natural.
She said straight but it was a career she wanted for her brother. She
forgot the usual talk of patriotism and the glory of being mangled on
behalf of Hohenzollerns.

Yesterday the menservants disappeared, and women waited on us. There
was no jolt in the machinery. It went on as smoothly as though the
change had been weeks ago. Even the butler, who certainly is too old
to fight, vanished.

Bernd comes in whenever he can. Luckily we're quite close to the
General Staff Headquarters here, and he has his meals with us. He
persists that the war will be kept rigidly to Austria and Servia, and
therefore will be over in a week or two. He says Sir Edward Grey has
soothed bellicose governme