Diplomacy sometimes amounted to something.
"No," insisted the German ferociously. "It is war, blessed war. Russia
will sustain Servia, and we will support our ally. . . . What will
France do? Do you know what France will do?" . . .
Julio shrugged his shoulders testily as though asking to be left out of
all international discussions.
"It is war," asserted the Counsellor, "the preventive war that we need.
Russia is growing too fast, and is preparing to fight us. Four years
more of peace and she will have finished her strategic railroads, and
her military power, united to that of her allies, will be worth as much
as ours. It is better to strike a powerful blow now. It is necessary to
take advantage of this opportunity. . . . War. Preventive war!"
All his clan were listening in silence. Some did not appear to feel the
contagion of his enthusiasm. War! . . . In imagination they saw their
business paralyzed, their agencies bankrupt, the banks cutting down
credit . . . a catastrophe more frightful to them than the slaughters
of battles. But they applauded with nods and grunts all of Erckmann's
ferocious demonstrations. He was a Herr Rath, and an officer besides.
He must be in the secrets of the destiny of his country, and that was
enough to make them drink silently to the success of the war.
Julio thought that the Counsellor and his admirers must be drunk.
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