He emphasised his words. “As a German officer I took liberties with my duty--because of a higher law.” “A higher law than discipline,” said Brand. “Perhaps a nobler duty than the code of a German officer.” He spoke with a touch of irony, but Franz von Kreuzenach was unconscious of that. “Our duty to God,” he said gravely. “Human pity. Love.” An expression of immense sentiment filled his eyes. An Englishman would have masked it more guardedly. “Good night,” said Brand, “and thanks again.” The young German clicked his heels and bowed. “Good night, sir.” Brand went to bed, in a leisurely way, and before sleeping heard a violin being played in the room above his own. By the tune he remembered the words of an old song, as Eileen O’Connor had sung it in Lille, and as he had learnt it in his own home before the war. There’s one that is pure as an angel, And fair as the flowers of May, They call her the gentle maiden Wherever she takes her way. Franz von Kreuzenach was having an orgy of sentiment, and Brand somehow envied him. V Our entry into Cologne and life among the people whom we had been fighting for four years, and more, was an amazing psychological experience, and not one of us there on the Rhine could escape its subtle influence upon our opinions and sub-conscious state of mind. Some of our officers, I am sure, were utterly unaware of the change being wrought in them by daily association with German civilians. They did not realise how, day by day, their old beliefs on the subject of “the Hun” were being broken down by contact with people who behaved with dignity, for the most part, and according to the ordinary rules of human nature. Charles Fortune, our humorist, delighted to observe these things, and his irony found ready targets in Cologne, both among British officers and German civilians, neither of whom he spared. I remember that I was walking one day down Hohestrasse with young Harding, after the proclamation had been issued (and enforced with numerous arrests and fines by the A.P.M. and the military police) that all German civilians were to salute British officers by doffing their hats in the streets. The absurdity of it was so great that in a crowded street like the Hohestrasse the civilian people would have had to remain bareheaded, owing to the constant passing of our officers. Fortune saluted Harding and myself not only with one hand but with two. He wore his “heroic” face, wonderfully noble and mystical.