Kaiser: I will arrange for sufficient policing of the place. Now do not misunderstand me. The case for Turkey is everything or nothing, and without Germany it will be nothing. You are to dine with the Chancellor and me to-night. Is there any question you would like to ask?
Talaat: What is your plan of retirement in the West?
Kaiser: To fall back to a line we can hold for years—to prove to our enemies that at the rate of their advance it will take them two years to get into Germany, which extra effort will not mean so much gain to them more than they have at present—but the expenditure of millions of lives and double their war debt. That being so, we win. And now (rising) it is my royal wish to distinguish this occasion by conferring on you a Grand Duchy of the Fatherland. I have one vacant. The revenues have accumulated since the war. We will speak further of this at dinner.
(The Kaiser, smiling at Talaat, shakes him by the hand. As the Chancellor reappears for Talaat, the latter, pale with excitement, bows himself out of the royal presence.)
(The Kaiser falls dejectedly into his chair and rings again. Professor Adam Lassoon enters—the arch-spy, Press gagger, and confidential friend.)
Kaiser: Well, Adam. What news?
L.: There has been much public comment on the fact that the Reichstag has even made it possible to demand changes in the Constitution so openly. This has been dealt with. There is also a growing tendency towards isolation. Men sit in cafés and talk. The world is against us, and even the entrance of Hayti has a bad moral effect. They hear the hordes already thundering at our gates for vengeance. This also has been dealt with and articles prescribed for it.
Kaiser: Be extra vigilant about the provinces, and make a submarine boom.
(Lassoon disappears.)
(Kaiser, now alone and smoking hard, walks to the window. He looks out on the lake in silence. The moonlight streams in across the room. As he watches, a black sailing cloud obscures the moon, and the Kaiser, turning down the lights, sinks back dreamily in his chair. The smoke from his cigar floats up in thick clouds as he rests his haggard face in one hand. He sleeps. Past the smothered light the mists grow thicker and in them suddenly appears a form, a spectre—it is the Shade of Bismark. With fearful voice it speaks.)