Young off.  Oh, glad?  I don’t think so.  We’re all in the same boat, so far as that’s concerned.  We’re not glad to kill each other—­not most of us.  We do our job—­that’s all.

Girl.  Oh!  It is frightful.  I expect I haf my brothers killed.

Young off.  Don’t you get any news ever?

Girl.  News?  No indeed, no news of anybody in my country.  I might not haf a country; all that I ever knew is gone; fader, moder, sisters, broders, all; never any more I shall see them, I suppose, now.  The war it breaks and breaks, it breaks hearts. [She gives a little snarl] Do you know what I was thinking when you came up to me?  I was thinking of my native town, and the river in the moonlight.  If I could see it again I would be glad.  Were you ever homeseeck?

Young off.  Yes, I have been—­in the trenches.  But one’s ashamed with all the others.

Girl.  Ah!  Yees!  Yees!  You are all comrades there.  What is it like for me here, do you think, where everybody hates and despises me, and would catch me and put me in prison, perhaps. [Her breast heaves.]

Young off. [Leaning forward and patting her knee] Sorry—­sorry.

Girl. [In a smothered voice] You are the first who has been kind to me for so long!  I will tell you the truth—­I am not Rooshian at all —­I am German.

Young off. [Staring] My dear girl, who cares.  We aren’t fighting against women.

Girl. [Peering at him] Another man said that to me.  But he was thinkin’ of his fun.  You are a veree ni-ice boy; I am so glad I met you.  You see the good in people, don’t you?  That is the first thing in the world—­because—­there is really not much good in people, you know.

Young off. [Smiling] You are a dreadful little cynic!  But of course you are!

Girl.  Cyneec?  How long do you think I would live if I was not a cyneec?  I should drown myself to-morrow.  Perhaps there are good people, but, you see, I don’t know them.

Young off.  I know lots.

Girl. [Leaning towards him] Well now—­see, ni-ice boy—­you haf never been in a hole, haf you?

Young off.  I suppose not a real hole.

Girl.  No, I should think not, with your face.  Well, suppose I am still a good girl, as I was once, you know; and you took me to your mother and your sisters and you said:  “Here is a little German girl that has no work, and no money, and no friends.”  They will say:  “Oh! how sad!  A German girl!” And they will go and wash their hands.

     [The Officer, is silent, staring at her.]

Girl.  You see.

Young off. [Muttering] I’m sure there are people.

Girl.  No.  They would not take a German, even if she was good.  Besides, I don’t want to be good any more—­I am not a humbug; I have learned to be bad.  Aren’t you going to kees me, ni-ice boy?