Now you must understand, I had helped to win a war, and no man gets over such an experience at once. I had a flash of suspicion, and glanced at my companion, the cultured literary critic from Berlin. Could it possibly be that this smooth-spoken gentleman was playing a trick upon me--trying, possibly, to get something into my crude American mind without my realizing what was happening? But I remembered his detailed account of the production, the very essence of “art for art's sake.” I decided that the war was three years over, and I was competent to do my own thinking. Dr. Henner spoke first. “I think,” he said, “it might be wiser if I did not try to go in there.” “Absurd!” I cried. “I'm not going to be dictated to by a bunch of imbeciles!” “No,” said the other, “you are an American, and don't have to be. But I am a German, and I must learn.” I noted the flash of bitterness, but did not resent it. “That's all nonsense, Dr. Henner!” I argued. “You are my guest, and I won't--” “Listen, my friend,” said the other. “You can doubtless get by without trouble; but I would surely rouse their anger, and I have no mind to be beaten for nothing. I have seen the picture several times, and can talk about it with you just as well.” “You make me ashamed of myself,” I cried--“and of my country!” “No, no! It is what you should expect. It is what I had in mind when I spoke of the surgeon contracting the disease. We German intellectuals know what war means; we are used to things like this.” Suddenly he put out his hand. “Good-bye.” “I will go with you!” I exclaimed. But he protested--that would embarrass him greatly. I would please to stay, and see the picture; he would be interested later on to hear my opinion of it. And abruptly he turned, and walked off, leaving me hesitating and angry. At last I started towards the entrance of the theatre. One of the men in uniform barred my way. “No admittance here!” “But why not?” “It's a German show, and we aint a-goin' to allow it.” “Now see here, buddy,” I countered, none too good-naturedly, “I haven't got my uniform on, but I've as good a right to it as you; I was all through the Argonne.” “Well, what do you want to see Hun propaganda for?” “Maybe I want to see what it's like.” “Well, you can't go in; we're here to shut up this show!” I had stepped to one side as I spoke, and he caught me by the arm. I thought there had been talk enough, and gave a sudden lurch, and tore my arm free. “Hold on here!” he shouted, and tried to stop me again; but I sprang through the crowd towards the box-office. There were more than a hundred civilians in or about the lobby, and not more than twenty or thirty ex-service men maintaining the blockade; so a few got by, and I was one of the lucky ones. I bought my ticket, and entered the theatre. To the man at the door I said: “Who started this?” “I don't know, sir. It's just landed on us, and we haven't had time to find out.” “Is the picture German propaganda?”