Yet it is best for you
English to look the truth in the face. It wasn't the Russian
people who were pledged to you, with whom you were bound in
alliance. It was that accursed trick all European politicians
have of making secret treaties and secret understandings, building
up buffer States, trying to whittle away a piece of the map for
yourselves, trying all the time to be dishonest under the shadow
of what is called diplomacy. That is what brought the war about.
It was never the will of the people. It was the Hohenzollerns and
the Romanoffs, the firebrands of the French Cabinet, and your own
clumsy, thick-headed efforts to get the best of everybody and yet
keep your Nonconformist conscience. The people did not make this
war, but it is the people who are going to end it."
They walked in silence for some minutes, he apparently pondering
over her last words, she with the cloud passing from her face as,
with her head a little thrown back and her eyes half-closed, she
sniffed the strong, salty air with an almost voluptuous expression
of content. She was perfectly dressed for the country, from her
square-toed shoes, which still seemed to maintain some distinction
of shape, the perfectly tailored coat and skirt, to the smart
little felt hat with its single quill. She walked with the free
grace of an athlete, unembarrassed with the difficulties of the
way or the gusts which swept across the marshy places, yet not
even the strengthening breeze, which as they reached the sea line
became almost a gale, seemed to have power to bring even the
faintest flush of colour to her cheeks.
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