of civilization and progress.

GENERAL

Old women's talk.

[_With a swagger._

Give me a sword in my right hand again, I say! I'll break open a few
skulls yet, for all my sixty years. Eh? Mediation! Let those mediate, I
say, who are afraid to fight!

CHIEF OF STAFF

[_Calmly, dispassionately._

We are not mediating yet. You may tell that to your friends if they
become downhearted.

GENERAL

[_Saluting._

To command, your Excellency! It is good that some one looks out for the
honor of the army.

[_Saluting again._

Good night, gentlemen!

[_The_ MINISTER OF WAR _half rises and bows slightly. The_
CHIEF OF STAFF _nods. Exit the_ GENERAL.

CHIEF OF STAFF

[_With a flash in his old eyes._

Ha! Once more to have those fellows behind me. Think of it! Each man of
them represents fifty thousand. And behind them another million and
another! God! What a machine to handle.

[_He slaps his forehead._

And the old brain working still!

MINISTER OF WAR

[_Rising and crossing to a window, right forward, then speaking
thoughtfully._

I don't know, Clement. I am growing old. I think sometimes that war is
the most terrible matter in which we erring humans become engaged. I
have always thought that--at times.

CHIEF OF STAFF

[_Who has crossed to the Left and stands facing a map of the world,
covering half the wall._

So you are a sentimentalist, after all?

MINISTER OF WAR

[_Looking out of the window._

No. Because there is something stronger in me, conquering the repulsion.
My temperament, character, destiny. I am impelled to war. A dozen
generations of soldiers in my blood press me on. My whole education
presses me on. My sympathies and my religious sense make me tremble
before the impending horror, but--I confess to you--I believe I want
this war.

CHIEF OF STAFF

[_Without turning._

So do we all. War is the soldier's work. And he does not want to play
all his life. Look. We land here and here and here.

[_He indicates places on the map with a paper-cutter, speaking with
growing excitement._

No defenses, except at this place--a masonry fort built thirty years
ago. Bad cement, moreover. Fraudulent contractor. Then--

MINISTER OF WAR

[_Returning to his desk, resolutely._

No, you old hawk, we're not going to do it. We'll be content to settle
ourselves in peaceful graves, you and I and the old Chief. No war, no
war!

CHIEF OF STAFF

[_Calmly._

That is se