“How about the British and French?” I asked.
“Oh, well,” said Talaat, smiling, “we may have to have a little fun with them now and then, but don’t worry. We’ll take good care of them.”
And now for the last time I spoke on the subject that had rested so heavily on my mind for many months. I feared that another appeal would be useless, but I decided to make it.
“How about the Armenians?”
Talaat’s geniality disappeared in an instant. His face hardened, and the fire of the beast lighted up his eyes once more.
“What’s the use of speaking about them?” he said, waving his hand. “We are through with them. That’s all over.”
Such was my farewell with Talaat. “That’s all over” were his last words to me.
The next day I had my farewell audience with the Sultan. He was the same gracious, kindly old gentleman that I had first met two years before. He received me informally, in civilian European clothes, and asked me to sit down with him. We talked for twenty minutes, discussing, among other things, the pleasant relations that prevailed between America and Turkey. He thanked me for the interest which I had taken in his country and hoped that I would soon return. Then he took up the question of war and peace.
“Every monarch naturally desires peace,” he said. “None of us approve the shedding of blood. But there are times when war seems unavoidable. We may wish to settle our disputes amicably, but we cannot always do it. This seems to be one of them. I told the British Ambassador that we did not wish to go to war with his country. I tell you the same thing now. But Turkey had to defend her rights. Russia attacked us, and naturally we had to defend ourselves. Thus the war was not the result of any planning on our part, it was an act of Allah—it was fate.”
I expressed the hope that it might soon be over.