at our trained American observers, men who had
been educated in Germany and those who had not, never saw anything
of this danger that was boiling in the breasts of even the humblest
classes of Teutons? Yes, Anderson was correct. The Germans were,
after all, frank enough about it. All was spontaneous and bold.
Egged on by their military, political, educational, religious
masters, the populace could easily, at any time, work themselves up
like this into a frantic state about conquest. And yet Americans
heard nothing of it. It was as if their channels of information were
subsidized under German authority.

At one o'clock supper time came and Gard ordered. There were Fritzi
and another girl and two young men--all very profuse in their
appreciation of his hospitality. The popping of a few bottles of
cheap champagne sounded in his ears. He was in the swing of the
excitement and could not be outdone. His brand was French, of a fine
quality. It exhilarated his brain far above the plain, distorted
commonplaces of Loschwitz.

After supper the real frolic set in. The true devotees now alone
remained. They began doing fancy twists, with legs out far and wide.
Vests came off, with collars and ties, and feminine charms became as
familiar as an old story that is read too often to have much meaning
for the senses. To Gard it all now appeared seemly enough, like an
opera peasant ballet whose frank rusticities were excused under the
inspiration of the music.

Fritzi's hair floated loosely over her shoulders. It looked to him
even brighter than Elsa's. Her snug, many-colored bodice became
partly unlaced and she had kicked off her tight slippers under
Gard's table. In their heated condition many of the other waitresses
were dancing in their unshod feet. He thought it very natural and
pleasing when Fritzi rushed up with her heirloom of silk stockings
which she had removed early in the evening. They had been her
grandmother's who had worn them at some grand baron's wedding long
ago--the sole tradition and distinction connected with Fritzi's
lineage. One of her friends had been robbed in the dressing room and
she was afraid to trust these precious articles there longer. She
made sure that Gard had tucked them in his pocket for safekeeping.
As she hurried to rejoin the circles, he saw that she had worn
through the bottoms of her dancing hose.

Whenever that feeling of discomfort, which he had been conscious of
early that morning, surged