"The abortion called Entente Cordiale," interrupted the War Lord—a red rag to a bull already wounded.
The Chancellor continued: "The British assume that we are planning the destruction of France, and, that accomplished, the invasion of England. British statesmen recognise that the French army is no match for ours, that even with the assistance of the English Yeomanry——"
"Miserable hirelings, whom the German Boers thrashed four years in succession," cried Wilhelm, rising and stamping his foot.
"Even with their assistance Germany would remain supreme on land," resumed Prince Bülow. "Hence Quai d'Orsay's overtures to Downing Street: Paralyse German land supremacy by supremacy on sea, and——"
"Steal my colonies, that's their game," thundered the War Lord, addressing Bohlen. "Do you know what that means, sir? That the Hohenzollern wouldn't have a stone to lay his head on when the Reds have their way. To me colonies are entailed estates, on which to fall back when the civil list at home fails us. Suppose Germany—which God forbid—turned republic. Off we are to Africa like a shot, there to await our chance to return at the proper time. And there won't be any doffing the chapeau to the mob if we do come back, I warrant you."[#]
[#] In March, 1848, Frederick Wilhelm IV., Wilhelm's grand-uncle, was ordered by the Berlin revolutionists to come out on the balcony and to salute when the victims of his soldiery were carried past the castle. He bowed obsequiously—an act that is gall and wormwood to the War Lord. Hence it is permissible in the Fatherland to call Frederick Wilhelm IV. an ass—no more or less. An editor who called him a mouse-coloured ass got three months for his pains.
"It must be conceded, though," said the Chancellor, with a conciliatory smile, "that the British are profoundly pacific and that there is no itch for war in the Island Kingdoms. If ever there was, it lies buried somewhere on the African veld. Neither is France likely to provoke war."
"She knows better," cried Wilhelm. "French women don't want children."
"So much for the Entente Cordiale," continued Prince Bülow—the War Lord had sat down on the edge of a table, swinging his right leg to and fro—"British statesmanship contending that Europe needs a strong France, and that a blow struck at France is a blow aimed at England."
"Donnersmarck's talk. If it was not for his money and his age, I would muzzle the old fool. But as I told him only the other day, he will be punished sure enough."