"Boys! Boys!" she cried. "What would your mothers say? And you, who have been companions and friends for so long—like brothers! What would you do?
"Kill each other? Is there not enough blood being shed? Are you not at war with all the world? Is it not enough that torn and bleeding bodies are brought into this hospital every day that you, Carl Baum, and you, Paul Genau, must add to the awful sum of human misery?
"Stop! I will not have it. You rave of being fond of me—you two—and then act like this? Oh, you wicked ones! How dare you call me your cousin? Would I own you as cousins of mine, do you think, if you were guilty of the crime you each contemplate?
"And this it is to be German. The thirst for blood has seized upon you, as it has upon everybody entangled in this awful war.
"Thank God! I am an American!"
There was a sonorous shout from across the enclosure. The Herr Doktor had appeared suddenly at the door of his lodge.
"Hi! Ho! Hold that convalescent, Ernest Spiegel, Thirty-three of Ward Three. I want him. Do you hear, Sergeant Genau?" he added, catching sight of Paul. "Bring that boy back. Bring him to my office here at once."
Paul's left hand had been out-stretched to draw the girl aside. Carl had given no sign in his face of a better intention. Belinda thought with sinking heart that her pleading seemed to have made no impression upon the young hot-heads.
But the voice of authority spoke in the Herr Doktor's command. The young men came to attention. Carl's saber went back into its scabbard; Paul's weapon into its sheath.
The sergeant-major wheeled and started instantly for the gateway. Belinda staggered to the door of her ward, weeping in abandonment.