constructed for occasions like this a speech in which every point was
well thought out and which made a simple impression. He delivered it
now, speaking with emphasis and pausing occasionally to recall what came
next.

To begin with he spoke of his brave soldiers, praising their courage,
their contempt of death, their wonderful deeds of valor. Then he
expressed regret at the impossibility of rewarding each soldier
according to his merits, and--this in a raised voice--invoked the
fatherland's eternal gratitude for such loyalty and self-abnegation even
unto death. Pointing to the heavy crop of medals on his chest, he
explained that the distinctions awarded him were really an honor done to
his men. Finally he wove in a few well-chosen remarks complimenting the
enemy's fighting ability and cautious leadership, and concluded with an
expression of his unshakable confidence in ultimate victory.

The newspaper man listened respectfully and occasionally jotted down a
note. The main thing, of course, was to observe the Great One's
appearance, his manner of speech, his gestures, and to sum up his
personality in a few striking phrases.

His Excellency now discarded his military role, and changed himself from
the Victor of ---- into the man of the world.

"You are going to the front now?" he asked with a courteous smile, and
responded to the correspondent's enthusiastic "Yes" with a deep,
melancholy sigh.

"How fortunate you are! I envy you. You see, the tragedy in the life of
the general of to-day is that he cannot lead his men personally into the