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Page 49
"But, as I told Captain von Boehlen, we're a republic, and we're
democrats. In many of the big ideas there's a gulf between us and
Germany so wide that it can never be bridged. This war has made clear
the enormous difference."
Von Arnheim sighed.
"And yet, as a people, we like each other personally," he said.
"That's so, but as nations we diverge absolutely."
"Perhaps, I can't dispute it. But here is our camp. You'll be treated
well. We Germans are not barbarians, as our enemies allege."
John saw fires burning in an ancient wood, through which a clear brook
ran. The ground was carpeted with bodies, which at first he thought were
those of dead men. But they were merely sleepers. German troops in
thousands had dropped in their tracks. It was scarcely sleep, but
something deeper, a stupor of exhaustion so utter, both mental and
physical, that it was like the effect of anesthesia. They lay in every
imaginable position, and they stretched away through the forest in
scores of thousands.
John and Fleury saw their own place at once. Several hundred men in
French uniforms were lying or sitting on the ground in a great group
near the forest. A few slept, but the others, as well as John could see
by the light of the fires, were wide awake.
The sight of the brook gave John a burning thirst, and making a sign to
the German guard, who nodded, he knelt and drank. He did not care
whether the water was pure or not, most likely it was not, with armies
treading their way across it, but as it cut through the dust and grime
of his mouth and throat he felt as if a new and more vigorous life were
flowing into his veins. After drinking once, twice, and thrice, he sat
down on the bank with Fleury, but in a minute or two young von Arnheim
came for him.
"Our commander wishes to talk with you," he said.
"I'm honored," said John, "but conversation is not one of my strong
points."
"The general will make the conversation," said von Arnheim, smiling. "It
will be your duty, as he sees it, to answer questions."
John's liking for von Arnheim grew. He had seldom seen a finer young
man. He was frank and open in manner, and bright blue eyes shone in a
face that bore every sign of honesty. Official enemies he and von
Arnheim were, but real enemies they never could be.
He divined that he would be subjected to a cross-examination, but he had
no objection. Moreover, he wanted to see a German general of high
degree. Von Arnheim led the way through the woods to a little glade, in
which about a dozen officers stood. One of them, the oldest man present,
who was obviously in command, stood nearest the fire, holding his helmet
in his hand.
The general was past sixty, of medium height, but extremely broad and
muscular. His head, bald save for a fringe of white hair, had been
reddened by the sun, and his face, with its deep heavy lines and his
corded neck, was red, too. He showed age but not weakness. His eyes,
small, red and uncommonly keen, gazed from under a white bushy thatch.
He looked like a fierce old dragon to John.
"The American prisoner, sir," said von Arnheim in English to the
general.
The old man concentrated the stare of his small red eyes upon John for
many long seconds. The young American felt the weight and power of that
gaze. He knew too instinctively that the man before him was a great
fighter, a true representative of the German military caste and system.
He longed to turn his own eyes away, but he resolutely held them steady.
He would not be looked down, not even by an old Prussian general to whom
the fate of a hundred thousand was nothing.
"Very well, Your Highness, you may stand aside," said the general in a
deep harsh voice.
Out of the corner of his eye John saw that the man who stood aside was
von Arnheim. "Your Highness!" Then this young lieutenant must be a
prince. If so, some princes were likable. Wharton and Carstairs and he
had outwitted a prince once, but it could not be von Arnheim. He turned
his full gaze back to the general, who continued in his deep gruff
voice, speaking perfect English:
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