He is only too pleased to have the opportunity of expressing himself
candidly and openly. Peace is to be the watchword of the future.
The white doves have hovered over the Palace. The rulers of the
earth have met that the crash of arms may be stilled and that this
terrible unrest which broods over Europe shall finally be broken up.
They have pledged themselves hand in hand to work together for this
object, - Russia, broken and humiliated, but with an immense army
still available, whose only chance of holding her place among the
nations is another and a successful war; Austria, on fire for the
seaboard - Austria, to whom war would give the desire of her
existence; Germany, with Bismarck's last but secret words written in
letters of fire on the walls of her palaces, in the hearts of her
rulers, in the brain of her great Emperor. Colonies! Expansion!
Empire! Whose colonies, I wonder? Whose empire? Will he tell you
that, my friend Dorward?"

The journalist shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the clock.

"I guess he'll tell me what he chooses and I shall print it," he
answered indifferently. "It's all part of the game, of course. I
am not exactly chicken enough to expect the truth. All the same,
my message will come from the lips of the Chancellor immediately
after this wonderful meeting."

"He makes use of you," Bellamy declared, "to throw dust into our
eyes and yours."

"Even so," Dorward admitted, "I don't care so long as I get the
copy. It's good-bye, I suppose?"