Margot (scathingly). I wonder if you are aware that I am English?
Bismarck (muttering something I could not catch about England lying crushed at his feet). But you are beautiful too! Some day you will be a countrywoman of mine.
Margot. How?
Bismarck. Because we shall make war on England and conquer it, and it will then be our own and all of you will be our people and our slaves. At least we should conquer it if——
Margot. If what?
Bismarck. If it were not for a young man who will then be Prime Minister. It is of him we are afraid.
Margot. What is his name?
Bismarck. Asquith.
Could prescience further go? Bismarck then left me with another ungainly effort at French: "Au revoir, Mademoiselle." But we never met again.