together into the studio, and as they entered Hermann lookedback over her into the dim garden. Then he pulled down the blind with arattle.
"'Move on there!' said the policeman," he remarked. "And so they movedon."
The news about the murder of the Austrian Grand Duke, which, for thatmoment at dinner, had caused Hermann to peer with apprehension into theveil of the future, was taken quietly enough by the public in general inEngland. It was a nasty incident, no doubt, and the murder having beencommitted on Servian soil, the pundits of the Press gave themselvesan opportunity for subsequently saying that they were right, byconjecturing that Austria might insist on a strict inquiry into thecircumstances, and the due punishment of not only the actual culpritsbut of those also who perhaps were privy to the plot. But three daysafterwards there was but little uneasiness; the Stock Exchanges ofthe European capitals--those highly sensitive barometers of comingstorm--were but slightly affected for the moment, and within a weekhad steadied themselves again. From Austria there came no sign of anyunreasonable demand which might lead to trouble with Servia, and so withSlavonic feeling generally, and by degrees that threatening of storm,that sudden lightning on the horizon passed out of the mind of thepublic. There had been that one flash, no more, and even that had notbeen answered by any growl of thunder; the storm did not at once moveup and the heavens above were still clear and sunny by day, andstarry-kirtled at night. But here and there were those who, like Hermannon the first announcement of the catastrophe, scented trouble, andMichael, going to see Aunt Barbara one afternoon early in the secondweek of July, found that she was one of them.
"I distrust it all, my dear," she said to him. "I am full of uneasiness.And what makes me more uneasy is that they are taking it so quietlyat the Austrian Embassy and at the German. I dined at one Embassylast night and at the other only a few nights ago, and I can't getanybody--not even the most indiscreet of the Secretaries--to say a wordabout it."
"But perhaps there isn't a word to be said," suggested Michael.
"I can't believe that. Austria cannot possibly let an incident of thatsort pass. There is mischief brewing. If she was merely intending toinsist--as she has every right to do--on an inquiry being held thatshould satisfy reasonable demands for justice, she would have insistedon that long ago. But a fortnight has passed now, and still she makesno sign. I feel sure that something is being arranged. Dear me, I quiteforgot, Tony asked me not to talk about it. But it doesn't matter withyou."
"But what do you mean by something being arranged?" asked Michael.
She looked round as if to assure herself that she and Michael werealone.
"I mean this: that Austria is being persuaded to make some outrageousdemand, some demand that no independent country could possibly grant."
"But who is persuading her?" asked Michael.
"My dear, you--like all the rest of England--are fast asleep. Who butGermany, and that dangerous monomaniac who rules Germany? She has longbeen wanting war, and she has only been delaying the dawning of Der Tag,till all her preparations were complete, and she was ready to hurl herarmies, and her fleet too, east and west and north. Mark my words! Sheis about ready now, and I believe she is going to take advantage of heropportunity."
She leaned forward in her chair.
"It is such an opportunity as has never occurred before," she said, "andin a hundred years none so fit may occur again. Here are we--England--onthe brink of civil war with Ireland and the Home Rulers; our hands aretied, or, rather, are occupied with our own troubles. Anyhow, Germanythinks so: that I know for a fact among so much that is only conjecture.And perhaps she is right. Who knows whether she may not be right, andthat if she forces on war whether we shall range ourselves with ourallies?"
Michael laughed.
"But aren't you piling up a European conflagration rather in a hurry,Aunt Barbara?" he asked.
"There will be hurry enough for us, for France and Russia and perhapsEngland, but not for Germany. She is never in a hurry: she waits tillshe is ready."
A servant brought in tea and Lady Barbara waited till he had left theroom again.
"It is as simple as an addition sum," she said, "if you grant the firststep, that Austria is going to make some outrageous demand ofServia. What follows? Servia refuses that demand, and Austria beginsmobilisation in order to enforce it. Servia appeals to Russia,invokes the bond of blood, and Russia remonstrates with Austria. Herrepresentations will be of no use: you may stake all you have on that;and eventually, since she will be unable to draw back she, too, willbegin in her slow, cumbrous manner, hampered by those immense distancesand her imperfect railway system, to mobilise also. Then will Germany,already quite prepared, show her hand. She will demand that Russia shallcease mobilisation, and again will Russia refuse. That will set themilitary machinery of France going. All the time the governments ofEurope will be working for peace, all, that is, except one, which issituated at Berlin."
Michael felt inclined to laugh at this rapid and disastrous sequence ofominous forebodings; it was so completely characteristic of Aunt Barbarato take the most violent possible view of the situation, which no doubthad its dangers. And what Michael felt was felt by the enormous majorityof English people.
"Dear Aunt Barbara, you do get on quick," he said.
"It will happen quickly," she said. "There is that little cloud in theeast like a man's hand today, and rather like that mailed fist whichour sweet peaceful friend in Germany is so fond of talking about. But itwill spread over the sky, I tell you, like some tropical storm. Franceis unready, Russia is unready; only Germany and her marionette, Austria,the strings of which she pulls, is ready."
"Go on prophesying," said Michael.
"I wish I could. Ever since that Sarajevo murder I have thought ofnothing else day and night. But how events will develop then I can'timagine. What will England do? Who knows? I only know what Germanythinks she will do, and that is, stand aside because she can't stir,with this Irish mill-stone round her neck. If Germany thought otherwise,she is perfectly capable of sending a dozen submarines over to our navalmanoeuvres and torpedoing our battleships right and left."
Michael laughed outright at this.
"While a fleet of Zeppelins hovers over London, and drops bombs on theWar Office and the Admiralty," he suggested.
But Aunt Barbara was not in the least diverted by this.
"And if England stands aside," she said, "Der Tag will only dawn alittle later, when Germany has settled with France and Russia. We shalllive to see Der Tag, Michael, unless we are run over by motor-buses, andpray God we shall see it soon, for the sooner the better. Your adorableFalbes, now, Sylvia and Hermann. What do they think of it?"
"Hermann was certainly rather--rather upset when he read of the Sarajevomurders," he said. "But he pins his faith on the German Emperor, whom healluded to as a fire-engine which would put out any conflagration."
Aunt Barbara rose in violent incredulity.
"Pish and bosh!" she remarked. "If he had alluded to him as anincendiary bomb, there would have been more sense in his simile."
"Anyhow, he and Sylvia are planning a musical tour in Germany in theautumn," said Michael.
"'It's a long, long way to Tipperary,'" remarked Aunt Barbaraenigmatically.
"Why Tipperary?" asked Michael.
"Oh, it's just a song I heard at a music-hall the other night. There'sa jolly catchy tune to it, which has rung in my head ever since. That'sthe sort of music I like, something you can carry away with you. Andyour music, Michael?"
"Rather in abeyance. There are--other things to think about."
Aunt Barbara got up.
"Ah, tell me more about them," she said. "I want to get this nightmareout of my head. Sylvia, now. Sylvia is a good cure for the nightmare. Isshe kind as she is fair, Michael?"
Michael was silent for a moment. Then he turned a quiet, radiant face toher.
"I can't talk about it," he said. "I can't get accustomed to the wonderof it."
"That will do. That's
a completely satisfactory account. But go on."
Michael laughed.
"How can I?" he asked. "There's no end and no beginning. I can't 'go on'as you order me about a thing like that. There is Sylvia; there is me."
"I must be content with that, then," she said, smiling.
"We are," said Michael.
Lady Barbara waited a moment without speaking.
"And your mother?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"She still refuses to see me," he said. "She still thinks it was I whomade the plot to take her away and shut her up. She is often angry withme, poor darling, but--but you see it