By the time the music had ceased, he had reached the castle bridge.  A sub-officer was watching the graceful movements of the swans gliding double over the waters of the moat.  He was a young Doctor of Laws who just now was serving as secretary to His Excellency—­a university man mobilized by the war.

On speaking with Don Marcelo, he immediately revealed his academic training.  The order for departure had surprised the professor in a private institute; he was just about to be married and all his plans had been upset.

“What a calamity, sir! . . .  What an overturning for the world! . . .  Yet many of us have foreseen that this catastrophe simply had to come.  We have felt strongly that it might break out any day.  Capital, accursed Capital is to blame.”

The speaker was a Socialist.  He did not hesitate to admit his co-operation in certain acts of his party that had brought persecutions and set-backs to his career.  But the Social-Democracy was now being accepted by the Emperor and flattered by the most reactionary Junkers.  All were now one.  The deputies of his party were forming in the Reichstag the group most obedient to the government. . . .  The only belief that it retained from its former creed, was its anathematization of Capital—­responsible for the war.

Desnoyers ventured to disagree with this enemy who appeared of an amiable and tolerant character.  “Did he not think that the real responsibility rested with German militarism?  Had it not sought and prepared this conflict, by its arrogance preventing any settlement?”

The Socialist denied this roundly.  His deputies were supporting the war and, therefore, must have good reason.  Everything that he said showed an absolute submission to discipline—­the eternal German discipline, blind and obedient, which was dominating even the most advanced parties.  In vain the Frenchman repeated arguments and facts which everybody had read from the beginning of the war.  His words simply slid over the calloused brains of this revolutionist, accustomed to delegating all his reasoning functions to others.

“Who can tell?” he finally said.  “Perhaps we have made a mistake.  But just at this moment all is confused; the premises which would enable us to draw exact conclusions are lacking.  When the conflict ends, we shall know the truly guilty parties, and if they are ours we shall throw the responsibility upon them.”

Desnoyers could hardly keep from laughing at his simplicity.  To wait till the end of the war to know who was to blame! . . .  And if the Empire should come out conqueror, what responsibility could the Socialists exact in the full pride of victory, they who always confined themselves to electoral battles, without the slightest attempt at rebellion?

“Whatever the cause may be,” concluded the Socialist, “this war is very sad.  How many dead! . . .  I was at Charleroi.  One has to see modern warfare close by. . . .  We shall conquer; we are going to enter Paris, so they say, but many of our men must fall before obtaining the final victory.”