fore; reared in the family
tradition, it had seemed a law of nature that he should have subjects to
work for him and suffer for him and die for him, if need be; he had been
taught that it was God himself who had given place and power to his
house; and that, if other less-favoured people lived in misery and died
in want, why that was doubtless God's will, too. And as for war--why,
without war there could be no glory, no conquest, no chivalry. It was
war which held a nation together, which made Kings more powerful and
thrones more stable! But now came a man with shining eyes who talked of
the sinful folly of war, of the wanton waste of armies; who dreamed of
universal brotherhood, and a world governed by love! Wild words, foolish
dreams, perhaps--and yet most dangerous to the idea of the divine right
of Kings! So, that evening, the Prince sat and listened, and tried to
understand.

It was Pachmann who did most of the talking, and a great deal of it was
for the Prince's benefit.

"We have been considering your proposal, Mr. Vard," he began, "and have
discussed it thoroughly."

As a matter of fact, he had not exchanged a word with the Prince on the
subject; he had distrusted him ever since Vard had offered him his hand,
for that action showed that this anarchist, this socialist, this enemy
of Kings, had detected in this young descendant of Kings sympathy and a
certain understanding. Pachmann thought of it with disgust and horror.

"We have discussed it thoroughly," Pachmann repeated, and the Prince,
who detected the contempt in the words, flushed hotly, but did not
speak; "and there are certain objections to your plan which we wish to
submit to you. The first of these is that war does not depend upon
explosives. Before gunpowder, men fought with swords and lances and
arrows; before the discovery of iron and steel, with clubs and stones.
Man has always been fighting, even when he had no weapons but his
fists."

"That is true," assented Vard. "Pray continue."

"My argument is," went on Pachmann, dropping the plural once for all,
"that, though you may render all explosives useless, and blow up forts
and battleships and arsenals, you will not stop war. You will merely
compel it to shift to another basis--to the old basis, probably, of
brute strength, of hand-to-hand combat. And if you do that, the old days
will return of barbarian invasions. The Turk will sweep down again on
southern Europe; the Tartars will invade us fr