Fall of Giants

Maud said quietly: “I happened to see Prime Minister Asquith today. He said there could be a real Armageddon.” She looked scared. “I’m afraid I did not believe him-but now I see he might have been right.”

Fitz said: “It’s what we’re all afraid of.”

Walter was impressed as always by Maud’s connections. She hobnobbed casually with the most powerful men in London. Walter recalled that as a girl of eleven or twelve, when her father was a minister in a Conservative government, she would solemnly question his cabinet colleagues when they visited Tŷ Gwyn; and even then such men would listen to her attentively and answer her patiently.

She went on: “On the bright side, if there is a war Asquith thinks Britain need not be involved.”

Walter’s heart lifted. If Britain stayed out, the war need not separate him from Maud.

But Fitz looked disapproving. “Really?” he said. “Even if… ” He looked at Walter. “Forgive me, von Ulrich-even if France is overrun by Germany?”

Maud replied: “We will be spectators, Asquith says.”

“As I have long feared,” Fitz said pompously, “the government does not understand the balance of power in Europe.” As a Conservative, he mistrusted the Liberal government, and personally he hated Asquith, who had enfeebled the House of Lords; but, most importantly, he was not totally horrified by the prospect of war. In some ways, Walter feared, he might relish the thought, just as Otto did. And he certainly thought war preferable to any weakening of British power.

Walter said: “Are you quite sure, my dear Fitz, that a German victory over France would upset the balance of power?” This line of discussion was rather sensitive for a dinner party, but the issue was too important to be brushed under Fitz’s expensive carpet.

Fitz said: “With all due respect to your honored country, and to His Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm, I fear Britain could not permit German control of France.”

That was the trouble, Walter thought, trying hard not to show the anger and frustration he felt at these glib words. A German attack on Russia’s ally France would, in reality, be defensive-but the English talked as if Germany was trying to dominate Europe. Forcing a genial smile, he said: “We defeated France forty-three years ago, in the conflict you call the Franco-Prussian War. Great Britain was a spectator then. And you did not suffer by our victory.”

Maud added: “That’s what Asquith said.”

“There’s a difference,” Fitz said. “In 1871, France was defeated by Prussia and a group of minor German kingdoms. After the war, that coalition became one country, the modern Germany-and I’m sure you will agree, von Ulrich, my old friend, that Germany today is a more formidable presence than old Prussia.”

Men like Fitz were so dangerous, Walter thought. With faultless good manners they would lead the world to destruction. He struggled to keep the tone of his reply light. “You’re right, of course-but perhaps formidable is not the same as hostile.”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

At the other end of the table, Bea coughed reproachfully. No doubt she thought this topic too contentious for polite conversation. She said brightly: “Are you looking forward to the duchess’s ball, Herr von Ulrich?”

Walter felt reproved. “I feel sure the ball will be absolutely splendid,” he gushed, and was rewarded with a grateful nod from Bea.

Aunt Herm put in: “You’re such a good dancer!”

Walter smiled warmly at the old woman. “Perhaps you will grant me the honor of the first dance, Lady Hermia?”

She was flattered. “Oh, my goodness, I’m too old for dancing. Besides, you youngsters have steps that didn’t even exist when I was a debutante.”

“The latest craze is the czardas. It’s a Hungarian folk dance. Perhaps I should teach you it.”

Fitz said: “Would that constitute a diplomatic incident, do you think?” It was not very funny, but everyone laughed, and the conversation turned to other trivial but safe subjects.

After dinner the party boarded carriages to drive the four hundred yards to Sussex House, the duke’s palace in Park Lane.

Night had fallen, and light blazed from every window: the duchess had at last given in and installed electricity. Walter climbed the grand staircase and entered the first of three grand reception rooms. The orchestra was playing the most popular tune of recent years, “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.” His left hand twitched: the syncopation was the crucial element.

He kept his promise and danced with Aunt Herm. He hoped she would have lots of partners: he wanted her to get tired and doze off in a side room, so that Maud would be left unchaperoned. He kept remembering what he and Maud had done in the library of this house a few weeks ago. His hands itched to touch her through that clinging dress.