It was not necessary to say more.  They all laughed then.  Ha, ha, ha! with a spontaneous roar but a short one, a laugh in three blows, since to prolong it, might be interpreted as a lack of respect to His Majesty.

As they neared Europe, a batch of news came to meet the boat.  The employees in the wireless telegraphy office were working incessantly.  One night, on entering the smoking room, Desnoyers saw the German notables gesticulating with animated countenances.  They were no longer drinking beer.  They had had bottles of champagne uncorked, and the Counsellor’s Lady, much impressed, had not retired to her stateroom.  Captain Erckmann, spying the young Argentinian, offered him a glass.

“It is war,” he shouted with enthusiasm.  “War at last. . . .  The hour has come!”

Desnoyers made a gesture of astonishment.  War! . . .  What war? . . .  Like all the others, he had read on the news bulletin outside a radiogram stating that the Austrian government had just sent an ultimatum to Servia; but it made not the slightest impression on him, for he was not at all interested in the Balkan affairs.  Those were but the quarrels of a miserable little nation monopolizing the attention of the world, distracting it from more worthwhile matters.  How could this event concern the martial Counsellor?  The two nations would soon come to an understanding.  Diplomacy sometimes amounted to something.

“No,” insisted the German ferociously.  “It is war, blessed war.  Russia will sustain Servia, and we will support our ally. . . .  What will France do?  Do you know what France will do?” . . .

Julio shrugged his shoulders testily as though asking to be left out of all international discussions.

“It is war,” asserted the Counsellor, “the preventive war that we need.  Russia is growing too fast, and is preparing to fight us.  Four years more of peace and she will have finished her strategic railroads, and her military power, united to that of her allies, will be worth as much as ours.  It is better to strike a powerful blow now.  It is necessary to take advantage of this opportunity. . . .  War.  Preventive war!”

All his clan were listening in silence.  Some did not appear to feel the contagion of his enthusiasm.  War! . . .  In imagination they saw their business paralyzed, their agencies bankrupt, the banks cutting down credit . . . a catastrophe more frightful to them than the slaughters of battles.  But they applauded with nods and grunts all of Erckmann’s ferocious demonstrations.  He was a Herr Rath, and an officer besides.  He must be in the secrets of the destiny of his country, and that was enough to make them drink silently to the success of the war.