“I am glad to hear that, Doctor. I am going on to the canteen. Are you going in that direction?”
The doctor smiled, bowed, and, taking the outside of the walk, stepped briskly along beside her. They chatted of the occupation by the American troops, Grace taking the opportunity to say she hoped the inhabitants would not take advantage of the leniency of the invaders lest the Americans put heavy restrictive measures upon them that might prove burdensome.
“Our people are kindly disposed, but they are quite likely to be savage when imposed upon or deceived,” she added.
“Ah! They are like my own countrymen, whose hearts are tender, Frau Gray, but those hearts are breaking to-day. We are very sad and full of humility. Yes, I have said that we were wrong, but that is not the fault of the German people. It is Wilhelm and his war lords who should be blamed.”
“Oh, Doctor, you forget! Did you not have an army in the field?”
“Most certainly.”
“And they were Germans, several millions of them. Is it not so?”
He bowed profoundly.
“Then why blame it all on the man who, like a coward, has run away and left you to work out your own salvation? The German nation—the whole nation—was behind the Kaiser in this wicked war—wicked so far as Germany was concerned. If I may say so without offense, the trouble—one of the shortcomings, I should say—with your people is that they are not good sportsmen. They are unsportsmanlike losers. Instead of standing up like men and confessing that they were wrong and that they are whipped, they prate about the spirit of Germany being unbroken, and then whimper like spoiled children because the victor says they must pay for breaking his windows!”
“You are very severe on my people.”