"Verité de monsieur de La Palisse," muttered Oswald, without looking up.
"Don't talk to me of your 'modern democracy,' I made its acquaintance in France--this 'modern democracy' of yours," thundered Truyn in a rage. He drew a deep, shuddering breath, lighted a cigar and gazed out of the coupé-window, apparently to allay his political anxiety by the sight of his dearly-loved fatherland.
He did not succeed, however, for before a minute had passed, he turned to Georges again and exclaimed angrily, "How delightful to contemplate the next generation; what a charming prospect! A people all ignorant atheists. I ask no severer punishment for the agitators who have wrought the mischief in this generation, than to be obliged to govern the next.
"I suppose they themselves would desire nothing better," said Oswald smiling.
"That's perfectly true; all they are struggling for, is power," muttered Truyn.
"Excuse me, my dear friend; but what are you struggling for?" asked Georges.
"What are we struggling for," repeated Truyn, looking at him compassionately, "what are we struggling for?--I will tell you;--for the Emperor and our fatherland, which means for order and justice, for the dignity of the throne, for the sanctity of home, for the fostering of beauty and nobility, for all the wealth of human achievement which we have inherited from the past, and ought to bequeath to the future--in a word, Georges,--we are protecting civilization."
"Bursts of applause from the Right--aha--congratulations to the orator from the Left!" said Georges laughing, then turning to Oswald who was still scribbling, he observed, "I rather think you have been taking short-hand notes of your uncle's speech. We will send them to Otto Ilsenbergh, he will be delighted."
"Nonsense!" said Oswald. "I am composing a telegram."
"In verse?" Georges asked innocently.