On more than one occasion in the railway trains the “enemy” character of Miss Littlefair and those who were with her was revealed, but no unkindness was shown. The last occasion was in October, 1914. “‘Shall you have to travel farther, or does your journey end in Munich,’ ‘No,’ I said, ‘we hope to go on to Switzerland to-morrow.’ ‘O, how delightful! You are lucky. It is such a beautiful country. Tell me, are you foreigners by any chance—American, or perhaps English?’ she queried. ‘English,’ I replied. The truth was out, and I looked to see a change of feeling reflected in her pleasant, winsome face; but her expression remained as kind and as interested as before, and her manner as cordial, so I told her more about ourselves, as there was no longer any need of reserve, and she had told me so much of their affairs.” There was, of course, the usual patriotic bias, but it was expressed with real good feeling. “‘Of course, we don’t hold the English people personally responsible for the war,’ she said, ‘but we think that England[65] has behaved very shabbily. It is very grieving, though, that the two countries should be at war.’ She had two or three English friends, and told me about them till our arrival in Munich, where our confidences were necessarily cut short, and we took an affectionate leave of one another.” (p. 123.) The following incident also shows simple folk made clear-sighted by kindness of heart: “On another occasion Christine and one of the ladies in our hotel went into a shop to buy some beautiful lace which was being sold at half-price. ‘We have to sell it cheaply because of the war,’ explained the assistant: ‘ach! it is terrible! We never wanted this war, and I am sure you did not either. You and I are not enemies, it is ridiculous. Let us shake hands to show we are friends. Yes!’ And they did.”[66] Good! That handshake, let us hope, will outweigh many a hysterical outburst on both sides. An English schoolmaster was, with his wife and family, in Germany at the outbreak of war. He testifies to the quite wonderful kindness he received. Almost daily he was taken by his hosts to other houses, and at the _Kaffeeklatsch_ which ensued there was never anything but a finely chivalrous courtesy. So grateful did the schoolmaster feel that (just as with Germans befriended here) he felt he must make some sort of return to the “enemy.” He explained the situation, and obtained permission to take two interned enemy nationals into his house. They in their turn felt that movement of gratitude which the preachers of hate refuse to believe in. They wanted to make some return to the schoolmaster, for schoolmasters are usually poor men. “If you do that,” he said, “I shall feel I am doing nothing.” There was a dispute of kindness, and in the end a _modus vivendi_ of gratitude was arrived at. How strange the methods of force seem by comparison. The two men are now interned once more—surely a sorry end to a story of such fine humanity.