I doubted that, and told him so, remembering scenes in Ghent and Lille, and that girl Marthe, and the woman of Verviers. That shook Brand a little from his new point of view and he shifted his ground, with the words: “Perhaps I’m wrong, there.” He told me of other “discoveries” of his, after conversation with many German people, explaining perhaps the lack of hostility and humiliation which had surprised us all. They were glad to see the English because they were afraid of the French and Belgians, with their desire for vengeance. They believed in English fair-play in spite of all the wild propaganda of the war. Now that the Kaiser had fled and Germany was a Republic, they believed that in spite of defeat, and great ruin, there would be a Peace which would give them a chance of recovery, and a new era of liberty, according to the pledges of President Wilson and the terms of the “Fourteen Points.” They believed they had been beaten by the hunger blockade, and not by the failure of the German Armies in the field, and they would not admit that as a people they were more guilty in the war than any others of the fighting nations. “It is a sense of guilt,” said Brand, “that must be brought home to them. They must be convinced of that before they can get clean again, and gain the world’s forgiveness.” He leaned over the table with his square face in the palms of his hands. “God knows,” he said, “that there was evil on both sides. We have our Junkerdom too. The philosophy of our Old Men was not shining in its Christian charity. We share the guilt of the war. Still, the Germans _were_ the aggressors. They must acknowledge that.” “The German war-lords and militarists,” I suggested. “Not that woman who lost her four sons, nor peasants dragged from their ploughs, ignorant of _Welt-politik_.” “It’s all a muddle,” said Brand. “I can’t sort it out. I’m full of bewilderment and contradictions. Sometimes when I look at these Germans in the streets, some of them so smug, I shudder and say, ‘These are the people who killed my pals,’ and I’m filled with cold rage. But when they tell me all they suffered, and their loathing of the war, I pity them and say, ‘They were trapped, like we were, by false ideas, and false systems, and the foul lies of politicians, and the dirtiness of old diplomacy, and the philosophy of Europe, leading up to That.’” Then he told me something which interested me more at the time than his groping to find truth, because a touch of personal drama is always more striking to the mind than general aspects and ideas. “I’m billeted at the house of Franz von Kreuzenach. You remember?--Eileen’s friend.” I was astounded at that. “What an amazing coincidence!” “It was no coincidence,” he said. “I arranged it. I had that letter to deliver and I wanted to meet the fellow. As yet, however, I have only seen his mother and sister. They are very civil.”