"I mean when the row comes," the dragoon explained. "We have all sealed orders, you know. No hurry, no bustle, no excitement; but when the Emperor presses the button—wiff!—then we shall be en route for England."
The brilliant picture before Nora's eyes faded. She was listening now with tight-set lips and beating heart.
"Ach, you mean the war!" her hostess said. "My husband is so reticent on the subject. I never hear anything at all. You think it will really come to that?"
"No doubt whatever—unless the English are ready to eat humble-pie. They are afraid of us because they see we are getting stronger, but they are equally afraid to strike. Their ancestors would have struck years ago, and now it is too late. Their navy is big on paper, but absolutely untried. As to their army——" He laughed good-naturedly. "That won't give us much trouble."
"You mean that it is not big enough?"
Frau von Hollander was pretending to forget Nora's existence, but there was a spite in her tone which was not altogether unpardonable. She was grateful for this opportunity to pay back the slights of the last hour.
"It is not merely too small," the officer returned judiciously; "it is no good against men like ours. Their so-called regulars are picked up out of the gutters, and the rest are untrained clerks and schoolboys who scarcely know how to shoot——"
Nora turned.
"That is a lie!" she said deliberately.
The conversation had been carried on loud enough to reach the adjoining carriages, and Nora's clear voice caused more than one occupant to turn in her direction. They saw a pretty young woman standing erect, white-lipped, with shining eyes, confronting a scarlet-faced officer, who for a moment appeared too taken aback to answer.