"My own words."
Franz spoke very earnestly, almost solemnly: "Will you hear me to the end, whether you like the tune or not?"
"If it relates to Zara's prophecies, I will," said Bertha. "But," she added falteringly, "you know I mustn't listen to criticism of my guardian."
Franz shrugged. "I quite understand. Forbidden ground even for your Mother."
Bertha felt the sting of reproval keenly, and did not like it. Indeed, at the moment she would have given up gladly a considerable portion of her wealth to be restored to Franz's unconditional and unrestricted good graces. So, humbling herself, she temporarily abandoned her high estate and again became the unsophisticated girl whom Franz used to call sister. "Do go on," she urged; "it was all so romantic, so strange, so mysterious, and you know I love to feel creepy."
Franz had risen and approached the great central window. "May I draw the curtains?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
"They must not see you. I will."
Bertha tugged the golden cords. "Working overtime again?" she queried, as she observed the blazing smoke-stacks.
"More's the pity, for every pound of steam going up those chimneys means so many lives lost, and for all those lives, Bertha, you will have to account to God."
"Old wives' tales," commented the Krupp heiress, as if the War Lord in person played souffleur. "On the contrary, as you well know, war preparedness means peace, means preservation; and with us in particular it means happiness and prosperity to the ten thousands of families in this favoured valley. It spells education, arts, music, care of children and of the sick and disabled. It means cheerfulness, such as ample wage and a future secured confer; it means care-free old age." As she recounted these benefits her enterprises were actually dispensing Bertha looked at the chief engineer with a slightly supercilious air.