beginning, no limit, has also no end: till, by the operation of nature, it
runs dry.

QUEEN. But, surely, he should be stopped when he speaks on matters which
may, any day, bring us into war!

LORD B. Then he would be stopped. When the British nation goes to war,
Madam, it ceases to listen to reason. Then it is only the beating of its
own great heart that it hears: to that goes the marching of its armies,
with victory as the one goal. Then, Madam, above reason rises instinct.
Against that he will be powerless.

QUEEN. You think so?

LORD B. I am sure, Madam. If we are drawn into war, his opposition becomes
futile. If we are not: well, if we are not, it will not be his doing that
we escape that--dire necessity.

QUEEN, But you _do_ think it necessary, don't you?

(_To the Sovereign's impetuous eagerness, so creditable to her heart, he
replies with the oracular solemnity by which caution can be
sublimated_)

LORD B. I hope it may not be, Madam. We must all say that--up till the
last moment. It is the only thing we _can_ say, to testify the
pacifity of our intention when challenged by other Powers.

QUEEN (_touching the newspaper_). This morning's news isn't good, I'm
afraid. The Russians are getting nearer to Constantinople.