less than thirty hours and was feeling my way carefully, so I made
no attempt to enter into conversation. Just before lunch the
jolting of the train deposited the major's coat at my feet. I
picked it up and handed it to him. He received it with thanks and
a trace of a smile. He was polite, but icily so. I was an
American, he was a German officer. In his way of reasoning my
country was unneutrally making ammunition to kill himself and his
men. But for my country the war would have been over long ago.
Therefore he hated me, but his training made him polite in his
hate. That is the difference between the better class of army and
naval officers and diplomats and the rest of the Germans.

When he left the compartment for the dining-car he saluted and
bowed stiffly. When we met in the narrow corridor after our return
from lunch, each stepped aside to let the other pass in first. I
exchanged with him heel-click for heel-click, salute for salute,
waist-bow for waist-bow, and after-you-my-dear-Alphonse sweep of
the arm for you-go-first-my-dear-Gaston motion from him. The
result was that we both started at once, collided, backed away and
indulged in all the protestations and gymnastics necessary to beg
another's pardon, in military Germany. At length we entered,
erected a screen of ice between us, and alternately looked from one
another to the scenery hour after hour.

The entrance of the naval officer relieved the strain, for the two
branches of the Kaisers armed might were soon--after the usual
gymnastics--engaged in conversation. They were not men to discuss
their business before a stranger. Once I caught the word
Amerikaner uttered in a low voice, but though their looks told that
they regarded me as an intruder in their country they said nothing