But do you really fear war, Edmond? asked the girl at last, having reflected deeply upon her lovers words.
Oh, I didnt mean to alarm you, dearest, he laughed quickly. War will, I believe, break out in Europe; but not yet probably not for years to come. Germany is not ready; and besides, she fears both France and England. Nevertheless, she is preparing to conquer the world. Of that, one has evidence everywhere in Germany.
My father does not believe it.
Because, like so many others all the world over who are piling up their money and reaping rich dividends, he does not wish to believe it. He, like millions of others, is content in the blissful paradise which he himself creates. But there, dearest, enough of my controversial subjects. Let us enjoy this glorious day, and he blew a cloud of blue cigarette smoke from his lips, and laughed at her merrily across the little coffee-cup which he raised to his lips.
Then presently, Edmond having settled the account, the blissful pair entered the great grey car, in which Antoine, the Barons clean-shaven chauffeur, loyal to his young mistress, drove them rapidly away, up the white, winding road which led due east into the heart of the peaceful, picturesque Ardennes.
Chapter Two.
The Rising Cloud
A fortnight later the second day of August, to be exact.
The Taverne Joseph, that popular restaurant in the Boulevard dAnspach, in Brussels, where, beneath the shadow of the Bourse, the business-man gets such delicious plâts du jour, was crowded, as it always is each day at noon. The many little tables set out upon the pavement, along which the life of the bright little Belgian capital ebbed and flowed, were filled by men who daily, year in and year out, ate their midday meal, gossiped, and drank long glasses of iced bock.
At one table, in a corner by the glass screen which divided the pavement before Josephs establishment from that belonging to a restaurant next door, Edmond Valentin sat alone.
He had every reason to congratulate himself most heartily. An hour ago, after making a most brilliant and impassioned speech for the defence in the Assize Court, the trial of the Affaire of the Rue du Trône had at last ended. The chemists assistant, Sigart, a cruel-hearted assassin who had killed his young wife by administering gelsiminium as the prosecution had alleged had been acquitted, and upon Edmonds remarkable success he had been everywhere congratulated by his confrères in the great atrium of the Courts.
As he sat alone, idly watching the passers-by, he was wondering what Aimée would think. She would read in the Petit Bleu that night the account of the trial, which she was so closely following, he knew. What would she say when she saw that he had been successful that he had made a name in the legal world at last!
He was in the act of lighting a cigarette, one of a special brand of Egyptians which were sold only at the little Mosque in the courtyard of the Grand Hotel opposite, when a strident voice reached his ear, and next second a perspiring young vendor of newspapers, in a peaked cap, thrust under his nose a newspaper, crying in French, German Ultimatum to Belgium! Vla Le Journal! He paid his sou, and eagerly opened the thin damp sheet.
His quick eyes scanned the sinister news which the paper contained, to the effect that the German Minister in Brussels had, at seven oclock on the previous evening, offered Belgium an entente with Germany in return for her facilitating German military operations. A pistol was held at Belgiums head. She had been given till seven oclock that morning to reply. A Council Meeting had been held which had lasted till midnight, after which Messieurs Hymans and Van den Heuvel had drafted a reply, which for three hours further had been discussed. Belgium relied upon the treaty to which Germany herself had been signatory, guaranteeing her neutrality, and had therefore replied that she could not accept the proposal.
Edmond Valentin held his breath as he read those significant lines of print.
Half the men in the restaurant eagerly bought papers, were silent for a moment, and then the greatest excitement was apparent everywhere.
War with Germany! yelled the newsvendors in strident tones as they rushed along the Boulevard, and even the police the most correct in Europe were so dumbfounded that they did not raise a voice in protest at this unseemly breach of the regulation which prohibits the crying of news.
Belgium had defied the great and terrible machine of Prussian militarism. She had told the Kaiser, openly and plainly, that she would, like Holland, remain neutral, in accordance with the solemn treaty to which the Powers had put their signatures.
Well, my friend, remarked a fat stockbroker, to whom Valentin was known as having his lunch daily at the Joseph. This is defiance eh? We have held up our hand to stop the great War Lord of Germany. We have no quarrel with our neighbours. This is only newspaper gossip. There will be no war, I assure you. A Bourse canard perhaps.
But if Germany attacks us? queried the young lawyer, placing his newspaper on the table.
Bah! that she will never do. We know the Kaiser and his mailed fist of old. If Russia has mobilised, surely it cannot concern us?
But France and Great Britain are Russias allies, remember.
Exactly. Germany will never dare to face Europe with only Austria, an effete nation, as an ally. Your agreement supports mine, my dear friend, laughed the fat over-dressed man, who wore a large diamond in his cravat.
But are there not already violations of the French frontier, and also in Luxembourg? The Germans have also occupied frontier towns in Russia, Edmond argued.
Bien! But it is only a menace on the part of Germany and menace is not war. Do not forget the Agadir incident. No, no, msieur. The coming war is not yet not yet, although I quite admit that we have felt the unrest on the Bourse this morning.
Unrest? echoed Edmond. I tell you that to-day there is war in the air, msieur! The German Emperor has created, by his clever chicanery, a diplomatic position in Europe which is impossible. The preparations of Prussia are complete. That the Emperor means war is apparent to those who have studied events, as I have, ever since the deplorable assassinations in Sarajevo.
Ah! mon ami, I see you are pessimistic, laughed the stockbroker, draining his glass of Benedictine. It would be bad for Belgium if all her sons were alarmists like yourself.
No, msieur, pardon? was Edmond Valentins quick response. If all were like yourself, we should be lulled to deep by the assurances of our bitter enemy the enemy who intends to march through this capital of ours to Antwerp, and the sea.
Bah! The old story told to us for so many years! laughed the man at the next table as he rose slowly and took his straw hat. We shall meet here again say this day week, and then you will be forced to admit the truth of my argument.
Well let us hope so, msieur. We shall see, Valentin replied with a gesture of apprehension, which showed him to be concerned.
The fat man wished him a merry bon jour, and passed out upon the sun-baked pavement, where the excited crowds were now hurrying, eagerly discussing the alarming news.
War! War! WAR!