(_The_ POTENTATE _rises, leans forward with his hands on the table, and an expression of extreme gratification, while the_ CHAPLAIN _stands with a smug and respectful smile on his white face._) POTENTATE. You are right, my dear Clericus, abundantly right. Very well put indeed! Yes, Germany is the Kingdom of God, and I (_drawing himself up to his full height_)--I am Germany! The strength of the Lord is in my right arm, and He teaches it terrible things for the unbeliever and the hypocrite. With God I conquer! Good-night, my dear Clericus, good-night. (CLERICUS _departs with a low bow, and_ _the_ POTENTATE _sinks into his chair with a gesture of fatigue. Enter a_ GENERAL _of the Headquarters Staff with telegrams._) POTENTATE (_brightening_). Ha, my dear General, you have news? GENERAL. Excellent news, Sire! On the Eastern front the Russians continue to give way. In the West a French attack has been repulsed with heavy loss, and our gallant Prussians have driven the British out of half a mile of trenches. (_At this last bit of news the_ POTENTATE _springs to his feet with a look of joy._) POTENTATE. A sign! My God, a sign! Pardon, General, I was thinking of a conversation that I have just had with Dr. Clericus. Come now, show me where these trenches are. (_The_ GENERAL _produces a map, over which they pore together._) POTENTATE. Excellent, excellent! A most valuable capture. Our losses were ...? GENERAL. Slight, Sire. POTENTATE. Better and better. I cannot afford to lose my good Prussians, my heroic, my invincible Prussians. To what do you attribute the success? GENERAL. The success was due in a large measure to the perfection of the apparatus suggested a week ago by your Majesty's scientific adviser. POTENTATE (_blanching a little_). Ah, then it was not a charge, eh? GENERAL. The charge followed, Sire; but the work was already done. The defenders of the trench were already dead or dying before our heroes reached it. POTENTATE (_sinking back in his chair with his finger to his lips, and a slight frown_). Thank you, General, your news is of the best. I will detain you no longer. (_The_ GENERAL _bows._) Stay! Has a counterattack been launched yet? GENERAL. Not yet, Sire. No doubt one will be attempted to-night. Our men are prepared. POTENTATE. Good. Bring me fresh news as soon as it arrives. Good-night, General, good-night. (_Exit_ GENERAL.) (_The_ POTENTATE _sits musing for a considerable time. A slight cough is heard, and he raises his head._) POTENTATE (_slowly_). Enter! (_Enter a tall figure in a long black academic gown and black clothes._) POTENTATE (_with an attempt at gaiety_). Come in, my dear Sage, come in. You are welcome. (_A little anxiously_) You have the crystal? Good. How is the Master? Still busy devising new means of victory? THE SAGE. My master's poor skill is always at your service, Sire. You have only to command.