I began to tell of the fermentation and new beginnings that were everywhere perceptible throughout the East, of the vast masses of human ability and energy that were coming into action in China and India, of the unlimited future of both North and South America, of the mere accidentalness of the European advantage. "History," I said, "is already shifting the significance out of Western Europe altogether, and we English cannot see it; we can see no further than Berlin, and these Germans can think of nothing better than to taunt the French with such tawdry effigies as _this_! Europe goes on to-day as India went on in the eighteenth century, making aimless history. And the sands of opportunity run and run...." I shrugged my shoulders and we stood for a little while looking down on the shining crescent of the Rhine. "Suppose," said Rachel, "that someone were to say that--in the House." "The House," I said, "doesn't hear things at my pitch. Bat outcries. Too shrill altogether." "It might. If _you_----" She halted, hesitated for a moment on the question and asked abruptly: "When are you coming back to England, Mr. Stratton?" "Certainly not for six months," I said. A movement of her eyes made me aware of the Fürstin and Berwick emerging from the trees. "And then?" asked Rachel. I didn't want to answer that question, in which the personal note sounded so clearly. "I am going to America to see America," I said, "and America may be rather a big thing to see." "You must see it?" "I want to be sure of it--as something comprehensive. I want to get a general effect of it...." Rachel hesitated, looked back to measure the distance of the Fürstin and her companion and put her question again, but this time with a significance that did not seem even to want to hide itself. "_Then_ will you come back?" she said. Her face flamed scarlet, but her eyes met mine boldly. Between us there was a flash of complete understanding. My answer, if it was lame and ungallant to such a challenge, was at least perfectly honest. "I can't make up my mind," I said. "I've been near making plans--taking steps.... Something holds me back...." I had no time for an explanation. "I can't make up my mind," I repeated. She stood for a moment rather stiffly, staring away towards the blue hills of Alsace. Then she turned with a smiling and undisturbed countenance to the Fürstin. Her crimson had given place to white. "The triumph of it," she said with a slight gesture to the flamboyant Teutonism that towered over us, and boldly repeating words I had used scarcely five minutes before, "makes me angry. They conquered--ungraciously...." She had overlooked something in her effort to seem entirely self-possessed. She collapsed. "My dear!" she cried,--"I forgot!"