“Not take it?  You can’t really mean that!”

“Yes, I do.  In trying to fulfill my duties as a man and a citizen, I cannot hang a sign of my bravery on me for all passers-by to see.”

“You speak like a tragedy, my dear Herr Eynhardt,” said the adjutant.  “But just as you like.  You can have the satisfaction of having done something unique.  It is hardly a usual thing to refuse the Iron Cross.”

As he went out with a distant bow, Dr. Schrotter came in, and said, smiling: 

“What the adjutant said about the tragedy is very true.  Decoration appears very theatrical to me, but you might take it quietly and put it in your pocket.  I have got quite a collection of such things which I never wear.”

“But do you blame the men who despise these outward forms in order to give an example to others?”

“My friend, when one is young one hopes to guide others, as one grows older one grows more modest.”

This objection struck Wilhelm, and he grew confused.  Dr. Schrotter laid his hand quietly on his shoulder, and said: 

“That does not matter.  We really mean the same thing.  The difference is only that you are twenty-five and I am fifty.”

As Wilhelm was silent and thoughtful, Schrotter went on: 

“There is a great deal to be said about symbols.  Theoretically you are right, but life practically does not permit of your views.  Everything which you see and do is a symbol, and where are you to draw the line?  The flag is one, but without doubt the battle is one too.  I believe, in spite of the historian who is wise after the event, that the so-called decisive battles do not decide anything, and that it is the accidental events which have the permanent influence on the destiny of peoples.  Neither Marathon nor Cannae kept the Greeks or Carthaginians from destruction; all the Roman conquests did not prevent the Teutonic race from overrunning the world; all the Crusader conquests of Jerusalem did not maintain Christianity, or Napoleon’s victories the first French Empire; nor did the defeats sustained by the Russians in the Crimea influence their development.  And finally, I am convinced that Europe to-day would not be materially different, even if all the decisive victories of her people could be changed into defeats, and their defeats into victories.  So you see that a battle is a symbol of the momentary capabilities of a people, and a very useless symbol, because it tells nothing of the immediate future, and yet you will sacrifice your life for this symbol, and not for another!  It is not logical.”

“You are right,” said Wilhelm, “and our actions in cases like this are not guided by logic.  But one thing I am sure of, if everything else is a symbol, a man’s life is not.  It is what it appears to be; it signifies just itself.”

“Do you think so?” said Schrotter thoughtfully.

“Yes, although I understand the doubt implied in your question.  A living man is to me a secret, which I respect with timidity and reverence—­who can tell his previous history, what things he does, what truths he believes in, what happiness he is giving to others?  Therefore when I see him in danger I willingly risk my life to save his.  I know myself, and I estimate my value as a trifling thing.”