the crowd seemed to be swaying this way and that; also there seemed
to be a great many men in army uniforms. "Hello!" I exclaimed. "A
row?"

There was a clamor of shouting; the army men seemed to be pulling
and pushing the civilians. When we got nearer, I asked of a
bystander, "What's up?" The answer was: "They don't want 'em to go
in to see the picture."

"Why not?"

"It's German. Hun propaganda!"

Now you must understand, I had helped to win a war, and no man gets
over such an experience at once. I had a flash of suspicion, and
glanced at my companion, the cultured literary critic from Berlin.
Could it possibly be that this smooth-spoken gentleman was playing a
trick upon me--trying, possibly, to get something into my crude
American mind without my realizing what was happening? But I
remembered his detailed account of the production, the very essence
of "art for art's sake." I decided that the war was three years
over, and I was competent to do my own thinking.

Dr. Henner spoke first. "I think," he said, "it might be wiser if I
did not try to go in there."

"Absurd!" I cried. "I'm not going to be dictated to by a bunch of
imbeciles!"

"No," said the other, "you are an American, and don't have to be.