The hope of an enduring peace through justice receded and grew dim. We knew that it could not be rekindled until the ruthless military power of Germany, that had denied and rejected it, was defeated and brought to repentance.
Thus those who loved true peace—peace with equal security for small and great nations, peace with law protecting the liberties of the people, peace with power to defend itself against assault—were forced to fight for it or give it up forever.
Chapter II
APOLOGUE
The man who was also a Werwolf sat in his arbor, drinking excellent beer.
He was not an ill-looking man. His fondness for an out-of-door life had given him a ruddy color. He was tall and blond. His eyes were gray. But there was a shifty look in them, now dreamy, now fierce. At times they contracted to mere slits. His chin sloped away to nothing. His legs were long and thin, his movements springy and uncertain.
The philosopher who came to pay his respects to the man who was also a
Werwolf (whom we shall henceforth call MWAW for short) was named
Professor Schmuck. He was a globular man, with protruding china-blue
eyes, much magnified by immense spectacles. The fame of his book on
"Eschatological Problems among the Hivites and Hittites" was world-wide.
But his real specialty was universal knowledge.
Yet on entering the arbor where MWAW was sitting, this world-renowned Learned One made three deep obeisances, as if he were approaching an idol, and stammered in a husky voice: "Highly Exalted!—dare I—?"
"Ah, our good Schmuck!" said MWAW, turning in his chair and recrossing his legs. "Come in. Take place. Take beer. Take breath. Speak out."
The professor, thus graciously reassured, set forth his errand.