"Any from the Rhine?" "Yes, I think so." "Were they very sad?" "Some were--some were quite glad to be taken." "Did you ever see the Rhine? Isn't it beaudiful? It will be wonderful to-night. The moonlight will be the same here as there; in Rooshia too, and France, everywhere; and the trees will look the same as here, and people will meet under them and make love just as here. Oh! isn't it stupid, the war?--as if it was not good to be alive." He wanted to say: "You can't tell how good it is to be alive, till you're facing death, because you don't live till then. And when a whole lot of you feel like that--and are ready to give their lives for each other, it's worth all the rest of life put together." But he couldn't get it out to this girl who believed in nothing. "How were you wounded, ni-ice boy?" "Attacking across open ground--four machine-gun bullets got me at one go off." "Weren't you veree frightened when they ordered you to attack?" No, he had not been frightened just then! And he shook his head and laughed. "It was great. We did laugh that morning. They got me much too soon, though--a swindle!" She stared at him. "You laughed?" "Yes, and what do you think was the first thing I was conscious of next morning--my old Colonel bending over me and giving me a squeeze of lemon. If you knew my Colonel you'd still believe in things. There _is_ something, you know, behind all this evil. After all, you can only die once, and if it's for your country all the better." Her face, with intent eyes just touched with bistre, had in the moonlight a most strange, otherworld look. Her lips moved: "No, I believe in nothing. My heart is dead." "You think so, but it isn't, you know, or you wouldn't have been crying, when I met you." "If it were not dead, do you think I could live my life--walking the streets every night, pretending to like strange men--never hearing a kind word--never talking, for fear I will be known for a German. Soon I shall take to drinking, then I shall be 'Kaput' very quick. You see, I am practical, I see things clear. To-night I am a little emotional; the moon is funny, you know. But I live for myself only, now. I don't care for anything or anybody." "All the same, just now you were pitying your people, and prisoners, and that." "Yes, because they suffer. Those who suffer are like me--I pity myself, that's all; I am different from your Englishwomen. I see what I am doing; I do not let my mind become a turnip just because I am no longer moral." "Nor your heart either." "Ni-ice boy, you are veree obstinate. But all that about love is 'umbug. We love ourselves, nothing more."