The strain is broken by a ridiculous incident. A terrier bitch belonging to a German baron in the “millionaires’” quarters leaps up to the roof of his tent and begins to bark furiously at the tumult in the air. The little creature’s anger becomes amusing. The men look at the dog and then burst into peals of laughter.
A few minutes afterwards the prisoners of the First Compound have recovered themselves and are shaking hands and congratulating each other. After all the war is over and they will soon be free! Free to leave this place and go back home—home to their houses and their wives and children.
The sailors in the Second Compound are going crazy with delight, and behaving like demented creatures. They are laughing and singing at the top of their lungs, punching each other and boxing, playing leap-frog and turning cart-wheels. What does it matter about country? Who cares about the Fatherland, anyway? All the world is their country—all the world and the sea.
Mona is standing at the door of her dairy, quivering with emotion. She is like a woman possessed. What she has hoped for and prayed for has come to pass at last. Peace! Peace! Peace over all the earth! Never has the world had such a chance before. Never will it have such a chance again. The cruelties and barbarities of war will be no more heard of, and the senseless jealousies and hatreds of races will be wiped out for ever. And then ... and then....
All at once she becomes aware of somebody behind her. She knows who it is, but she does not turn. There is a moment of silence between them, and then, in a voice which she can scarcely control, she says, half-crying, half laughing:
“You, too, will be free to go home soon, Oskar. Aren’t you glad?”
There is another moment of silence between them, and then in a low, tremulous voice Oskar answers:
“No, you know I’m not, Mona.”
Mona drops her hand to her side, partly behind her, and at the next moment she feels it tightened in a quivering grasp.