Arms and the Woman - Page 62/169

I shall never forget that night under the chestnuts, on the bank of the

wide white river. The leaves were gossiping among themselves; they had

so much to talk about; and then, they knew so much! Had not they and

their ancestors filtered the same moonbeams, century on century? Had

not their ancestors heard the tramp of the armies, the clash of the

sabre, the roar of the artillery? Had not the hand of autumn and the

hand of death marked them with the crimson sign? Ah, the leaves! It

is well to press them in books when they themselves have such fine

stories to tell.

"Gretchen," said I, echoing my thoughts, "had I been born a hundred

years ago I must have been a soldier. Napoleon was a great warrior."

"So was Bluecher, since it was he who helped overcome the little

Corsican."

The Germans will never forgive Napoleon.

"But war is a terrible thing," went on Gretchen.

"Yes, but it is a great educator; it teaches the vanquished how little

they know."

"War is the offspring of pride; that is what makes it so abhorred."

"It is also the offspring of oppression; that is what makes it so

great."

"Yes; when the people take up arms it is well. War is the torch of

liberty in the hands of the people. Oh, I envy the people, who are so

strong, yet know it not. If I were a man I would teach the people that

a king has no divine right, save when it is conferred upon him by them."

"Gretchen, I'm afraid that you're a bit of a Socialist."

"And who is not who has any love for humanity?"

"A beautiful woman who is a Socialist, Gretchen, is a menace to the

King. Sometimes he fears her. At large, she is dangerous. He seeks

her, and if he finds her, he takes away her liberty." All this was

said with a definite purpose. It was to let Gretchen know that I knew

her secret. "Gretchen, you are an embryo Socialist; a chrysalis, as it

were."

"No, Herr," sadly; "I am a butterfly whose wings have been clipped."

I had not expected this admission, "Never mind," said I. "Gretchen, I do not want you to call me Herr;

call me Jack."

"Jack!" she said. It became an uncommon name now.

"Whatever your true name may be, I shall never call you anything but

Gretchen."