The concluding chapter, "The Dawn," is a picture of the "flood below," of the lowland inundated by the rain, a picture of the crumbling trenches. The spectacle resembles a scene from the book of Genesis. Germans and French are fleeing together from the scourge of the elements, or are sinking pell-mell into a common grave. Some of these castaways, taking refuge on ridges of mud that stand up amid the waters, begin to awaken from their passivity, and a striking dialogue ensues between the sufferers, like the strophe and antistrophe in a Greek chorus. They are overwhelmed by excess of suffering. Even more are they overwhelmed, "as if by a yet greater disaster," by the thought that in days to come the survivors will be able to forget these ills. "If only people would remember! If they would only remember, there would be no more wars." Suddenly, from all sides, rises the cry: "There must never be another war." Each in turn heaps insults upon war. "Two armies fighting each other--that's like one great army committing suicide." One suggests, "It's all right if you win." But the others make answer: "That's no good.--To win settles nothing.--What we need is to kill war." "Then we shall have to go on fighting after the war?"--"Praps we shall."--"But praps it won't be foreigners we shall be fighting?"--"May be so. The peoples are fighting to-day to get rid of their masters."--"Then one works for the Prussians too?"--"Oh well, we may hope...."--"But we oughtn't to interfere with other folks' business."--"Yes, yes, we ought to, for what you call other folks' business is our own." "What do people fight for?"--"No one knows what they fight for, but we know whom they fight for. They fight for the pleasure of the few." The soldiers reckon up these few: "the fighters, those born to power"; those who say, "the races hate one another"; those who say, "I grow fat on the war"; those who say, "there always has been war and there always will be"; those who say, "bow your head, and trust in God"; the sabre-rattlers, the profiteers, the ghouls who batten on the spoils; "the slaves of the past, the traditionalists, for whom an abuse has the force of law because it is of old date." "Such as these are your enemies quite as much as any of the German soldiers who now share your wretchedness. The German soldiers are no more than poor dupes odiously betrayed and brutalised, domesticated beasts.... But the others are your enemies wherever they were born, whatever the fashion in which they utter their names, and whatever the language in which they lie. Look at them in the heavens above and on the earth beneath! Look at them everywhere! Look well, till you know them, that you may never forget their faces!" Such is the wail of these armies. But the book closes with a note of hope, with the unspoken oath of international brotherhood, what time a rift forms in the black skies and a calm ray of light falls upon the flooded plain. * * * * *