Fall of Giants

She spent a lot of time thinking about their life together. For a few years he would probably be posted from one embassy to another, and they would travel the world: Paris, Rome, Budapest, perhaps even farther afield to Addis Ababa, Tokyo, Buenos Aires. She thought of the story of Ruth in the Bible: “Whither thou goest, I will go.” Their sons would be taught to treat women as equals, and their daughters would grow up independent and strong-willed. Perhaps they would eventually settle in a town house in Berlin, so that their children could go to good German schools. At some point, no doubt, Walter would inherit Zumwald, his father’s country house in East Prussia. When they were old, and their children were adults, they would spend more time in the country, walking hand in hand around the estate, reading side by side in the evenings, and reflecting on how the world had changed since they were young.

Maud had trouble thinking about anything else. She sat in her office at the Calvary Gospel Hall, staring at a price list of medical supplies, and remembered how Walter had sucked his fingertip at the door to the duchess’s drawing room. People were beginning to notice her absentmindedness: Dr. Greenward had asked if she was feeling all right, and Aunt Herm had told her to wake up.

She tried again to concentrate on the order form, and this time she was interrupted by a tap at the door. Aunt Herm looked in and said: “Someone to see you.” She seemed a bit awestruck, and handed Maud a card.

General Otto von Wrich

ATTACHÉ

EMBASSY OF THE EMPIRE OF GERMANY

CARLTON HOUSE TERRACE, LONDON

“Walter’s father!” said Maud. “What on earth…?”

“What shall I say?” whispered Aunt Herm.

“Ask him if he would like tea or sherry, and show him in.”

Von Ulrich was formally dressed in a black frock coat with satin lapels, a white piqué waistcoat, and striped trousers. His red face was perspiring in the summer heat. He was rounder than Walter, and not as handsome, but they had the same straight-backed, chin-up military stance.

Maud summoned her habitual insouciance. “My dear Herr von Ulrich, is this a formal visit?”

“I want to talk to you about my son,” he said. His English was almost as good as Walter’s, though he had an accent where Walter did not.

“It’s kind of you to come to the point so quickly,” Maud replied with a touch of sarcasm that went right over his head. “Please sit down. Lady Hermia will order some refreshment.”

“Walter comes from an old aristocratic family.”

“As do I,” said Maud.

“We are traditional, conservative, devoutly religious… perhaps a little old-fashioned.”

“Just like my family,” Maud said.

This was not going the way Otto had planned. “We are Prussians,” he said with a touch of exasperation.

“Ah,” said Maud as if trumped. “Whereas we, of course, are Anglo-Saxons.”

She was fencing with him, as if this were nothing more than a battle of wits, but underneath she was frightened. Why was he here? What was his aim? She felt it could not be benign. He was against her. He would try to come between her and Walter, she felt bleakly certain.

Anyway, he was not to be put off by facetiousness. “Germany and Great Britain are at odds. Britain makes friends with our enemies, Russia and France. This makes Britain our adversary.”

“I’m sorry to hear that you think that way. Many do not.”

“The truth is not arrived at by majority vote.” Again she heard a note of asperity in his voice. He was used to being heard uncritically, especially by women.

Dr. Greenward’s nurse brought in tea on a tray and poured. Otto remained silent until she left. Then he said: “We may go to war in the next few weeks. If we do not fight over Serbia, there will be some other casus belli. Sooner or later, Britain and Germany must do battle for mastery of Europe.”

“I’m sorry you feel so pessimistic.”

“Many others think the same.”

“But the truth is not arrived at by majority vote.”

Otto looked annoyed. He evidently expected her to sit and listen to his pomposity in silence. He did not like to be mocked. He said angrily: “You should pay attention to me. I’m telling you something that affects you. Most Germans regard Britain as their enemy. If Walter were to marry an Englishwoman, think of the consequences.”

“I have, of course. Walter and I have talked at length about this.”

“First, he would suffer my disapproval. I could not welcome an English daughter-in-law into my family.”

“Walter feels that your love for your son would help you get over your revulsion for me, in the end. Is there really no chance of that?”

“Second,” he said, ignoring her question, “he would be regarded as disloyal to the kaiser. Men of his own class would no longer be his friends. He and his wife would not be received in the best houses.”

Maud was becoming angry. “I find that hard to credit. Surely not all Germans are so narrow-minded?”