“It seems to me, sir, that war is the logical outcome of your view of national life, and that a nation without a war is not a nation. I should imagine that a war greatly facilitates the task of government. The rich can always be trusted to look after themselves, but the poor are rendered impotent. I cannot raise a hand to support either such a view or such a condition. You have attained the ideal of high politics, the sacrifice of domestic affairs to international relations. I congratulate you. I decline all further hospitality at your hands. My young friend has already realized one of his ambitions. I shall request the Emperor of Fatterland to satisfy the other. We shall go to Fatterland to-morrow and see the war which you have been able to confine to other countries.” “Herr Siebenhaar,” shouted the Lord High Chief, “you shall do no such thing. The public has taken the island to its heart. You will consider yourself under arrest.” Siebenhaar smiled sweetly: “I have seen the Fattish public take Mr. George Samways to its heart and I have seen it reject him. I do not think you will arrest me, for, before leaving the island we arranged an explosion to take place two days from now in case of our non-return. Such an explosion would project thousands of tons of rock over your city.” XII: THE PUBLIC Ultimus refused to be separated from the lady of his choice, and when Siebenhaar said he must return to the island the little chambermaid declared her willingness to go if she could be married first. “You need not worry about that,” grumbled Siebenhaar. “There will be no other women on the island, no one to care whether you are married or no, no one to bully you if you have dispensed with the ceremony, and Ultimus has no relations except his aunt, who will never forgive him for his frankness. I warn you that on our island you will find none of the excitements of the great hotel, neither the advantages of society nor its disadvantages.” “I will come,” said the little chambermaid, “if you will let me tell my mother that I am married. It would kill her if she thought I was not.” “A lie more or less in a community is no great matter, since its existence depends upon lies,” said Siebenhaar. So the chambermaid wrote to her mother, packed her belongings in her tin box, and with Siebenhaar and Ultimus was driven in the royal motor-car to the docks. The last few miles they drove through enormous cheering crowds, men, women, and children, singing as they went. “Won’t I kiss you when you come back home, My soldier boy! For my heart is with you as you cross the foam, My soldier boy! You are big and you are brave, From the Huns our homes to save, Or to find a hero’s grave. Won’t I kiss you when you come back home!” A motor launch took them swiftly out to the island and there Ultimus was proud to show the little house he had built and the gardens he had made.