Our Lady's fan broke in her hands, but she remained silent.
"The public enemy," said Brand, "has so far avowed his sudden, cowardly, unprovoked attack upon Ulster's party. I have but reminded the Queen as to terms of my letter which had escaped her memory."
"Don't torture me," cried Margaret. "I have not read the letter!"
"I dare not accuse the Chancellor," said Brand, "of leaving his sovereign to face such issues unarmed and unprepared. He is an English gentleman incapable of conduct such as that."
"Stop, I command you!"
"No," said Brand, rising to his feet. "If the Chancellor has not warned the Queen, I shall! Bear with me, Queen Margaret! I have to deal with rough and brutal facts, to say things that hurt. Forgive me; be patient with me."
Margaret sat in rigid silence, at bay, waiting.
"The Queen has called me here," said Brand, "and I must speak. I have come to plead for the people, no matter what the cost. Russia, France and Germany are mobilizing. In feverish haste the League is arming for the invasion of England. Your people are never prepared for war; the Imperial fleets and armies are utterly unready—I dare not say how weak. Ulster, absorbed in appeals to Russia, offering terms for peace so shameful that they had to be denied in the House of Commons. There is no hope in war, no hope of peace. Nothing can save this country but the wreck of the Leagued Nations by the fall of gold."
The Queen sat motionless, staring.
"There need be no fear," he said. "Ulster's people dare not resist, lest they be swept away with the Leagued Nations."