Mr. Selingman raised his voice a little.

“Let me make the situation clear,” he begged.  “Listen to me, if you will, because I am a patriotic German but also a lover of England, a sojourner here, and one of her greatest friends.  Germany has gone to war against Russia.  Why?  You will say upon a trifling pretext.  My answer to you is this.  There is between the Teuton and the Slav an enmity more mighty than anything you can conceive of.  It has been at the root of all the unrest in the Balkans.  Many a time Germany has kept the peace at the imminent loss of her own position and prestige.  But one knows now that the struggle must come.  The Russians are piling up a great army with only one intention.  They mean to wrest from her keeping certain provinces of Austria, to reduce Germany’s one ally to the condition of a vassal state, to establish the Slav people there and throughout the Balkan States, at the expense of the Teuton.  Germany must protect her own.  It is a struggle, mind you, which concerns them alone.  If only there were common sense in the world, every one else would stand by and let Germany and Austria fight with Russia on the one great issue—­Slav or Teuton.”

“But there’s France,” little Mrs. Barlow reminded him.  “She can’t keep out of it.  She is Russia’s ally.”

“Alas! my dear madam,” Selingman continued, “you point out the tragedy of the whole situation.  If France could see wisdom, if France could see truth, she would fold her arms with you others, keep her country and her youth and her dignity.  But I will be reasonable.  She is, as you say, bound—­bound by her alliance to Russia, and she will fight.  Very well!  Germany wants no more from France than what she has.  Germany will fight a defensive campaign.  She will push France back with one hand, in as friendly a manner as is compatible with the ethics of war.  On the east she will move swiftly.  She will fight Russia, and, believe me, the issue will not be long doubtful.  She will conclude an honourable peace with France at the first opportunity.”

“Then you don’t think we shall be involved at all?” some one else asked.

“If you are,” Selingman declared, “it will be your own doing, and it will simply be the most criminal act of this generation.  Germany has nothing but friendship for England.  I ask you, what British interests are threatened by this inevitable clash between the Slav and the Teuton?  It is miserable enough for France to be dragged in.  It would be lunacy for England.  Therefore, though it is true that serious matters are pending, though, alas!  I must return at once to see what help I can afford my country, never for a moment believe, any of you, that there exists the slightest chance of war between Germany and England.”

“Then I don’t see,” Mrs. Barlow sighed, “why we shouldn’t have a rubber of bridge.”

“Let us,” Selingman assented.  “It is a very reasonable suggestion.  It will divert our thoughts.  Here is the afternoon paper.  Let us first see whether there is any further news.”