posterity!  And when they point and laugh, I shall be there with the rest.  It’s our self-righteousness has undone us, Tumulty; it’s that which has made us blind and hard—­and dishonest:  for there has been dishonesty too.  Because we were exacting reparations for a great wrong, we didn’t mind being unjust to the wrongdoer.  And so, in Paris, we spent months, arguing, prevaricating, manoeuvring, so as to pretend that none had had any share in bringing the evil about.  When I spoke for considerate justice, there was no living force behind me in that council of the Nations.  They wanted their revenge, and now they’ve got it:  and look what it is costing them!

(And then the door opens, and an Attendant enters, carrying a, covered cup upon a tray.  Upon this intrusion the Ex-President turns a little grimly; but before he can speak, Tumulty interposes.)

TUMULTY.  You’ll forgive this little interruption, Governor:  I got domestic orders to see that you took it....  You will?

(The dictatorial expression softens:  with a look of mild resignation the Ex-President touches the table for the tray to be set down.  And when the Attendant has gone, he continues:)

EX-PRES.  No, they wouldn’t believe me when I said that to be revengeful would cost more than to be forgiving.  And still they won’t believe that the trouble they are now in comes—­not from the destructiveness of the War, but from their own destruction of the Peace.  I had the truth in me; but I failed.  I was a voice crying into the void—­a President without a people to back me:  a dictator—­of words!  And they knew that my time was short, and that I had no power of appeal—­because the heart of my people was not with me!  If they had any doubt before, the vote of the Senate told them.

TUMULTY.  You said “the people,” Governor?

EX-PRES.  The people’s choice, Tumulty.  The vote for the Senate, and the vote of the Senate:  where’s the difference?

TUMULTY.  Still, I don’t think you know how many were with you right through:  and I’m not speaking only of our own people.  Over there it was your stand gave hope to the best of them, so long as hope was possible.  But they were all so busy holding their breath, maybe they didn’t make noise enough.  Anyway—­seems you didn’t hear ’em.

EX-PRES.  You can’t reproach me with it, Tumulty——­

TUMULTY (expostulant).  I’m not doing that, Governor!

EX-PRES. ——­more than I reproach myself.  If that were true, then it was my business to know it.  But what I ought to have known I realised too late.  When I heard those shouting crowds—­yes, then, for a while, I thought it did mean—­victory.  But in the Conference at Versailles—­Paris—­ I was in another world:  the shouting died out, and I was alone....  I hadn’t expected to be alone—­in there, I mean.  I had reckoned—­was it wrong?—­on honour counting among those in high places of authority for more than it did.  We went in pledged up to the hilt:  not in detail, not in legal terms, not as politicians, perhaps; but as men of honour—­speaking each for the honour of our own nation.  And that wasn’t enough; for whom people stand pledged twice over—­first in secret, then publicly—­it’s difficult to make them face where honour lies.