ame after me and said would I go to her mistress.
She was alone in the drawingroom, sitting at her writing table, though
she wasn't writing, and when I came in she said, without turning round,
that she must ask me to leave her house at once, that very evening.
She said that apart from her private feelings, which were all in favour
of my going--she would be quite frank, she said--there were serious
political reasons why I shouldn't stay even as long as till tomorrow.
The Graf's career, his position in the ministry, their social position,
Majestat,--I really don't remember all she said, and it matters so
little, so little. I listened, trying to understand, trying to give
all my attention to it and disentangle it, while my heart was thumping
so because of Bernd. For I was being turned out in disgrace, and I am
his betrothed, and so I am his honour, and whatever of shame there is
for me there is of shame for him.

The Grafin got more and more unsteady in her voice as she went on. She
was trying hard to keep calm, but she was evidently feeling so acutely,
so violently, that it was distressing to, have to watch her. I was so
sorry. I wanted to put my arms round her and tell her not to mind so
much, that of course I'd go, but if only she wouldn't mind so much
whatever it was. Then at last she began to lose her hold on herself,
and got up and walked about the room saying things about England. So
then I knew. And I knew the answer to everything that has been
perplexing me. They'd been afraid of it the last two days, and now
they knew it. England isn't going to fold her arms and look on. Oh,
how I loved England then! Standing in that Berlin drawingroom in the
heart of the Junker-military-official set, all by myself in what I
think and feel,--how I loved her! My heart was thumping five minutes
before for fear of shame, now it thumped so that I couldn't have said
anything if I'd wanted to for gladness and pride. I was a bit of
England. I think to know how much one loves England one has to be in
Germany. I forgot Bernd for a moment, my heart was so full of that
other love, that proud love for one's country when it takes its stand
on the side of righteousness. And presently the Grafin said it all,
tumbled it all out,--that England was going to declare war, and under
circumstances so shameful, so full of the well-known revolting
hypocrisy, that it made an honest German sick. "Belgium!" she cried,
"What is Belgium? A