It passed over men in grey that were weary of war; it passed over a
land once prosperous, happy and mighty, in which were a people that
were gradually starving; it passed by ancient belfries in which there
were no bells now; it passed over fear and misery and weeping, and so
came to the palace at Potsdam. It was the dead of the night between
midnight and dawn, and the palace was very still that the Emperor
might sleep, and sentries guarded it who made no noise and relieved
others in silence. Yet it was not so easy to sleep. Picture to
yourself a murderer who had killed a man. Would you sleep? Picture
yourself the man that planned this war! Yes, you sleep, but nightmares
come.
The phantom entered the chamber. ``Come,'' it said.
The Kaiser leaped up at once as obediently as when he came to
attention on parade, years ago, as a subaltern in the Prussian Guard,
a man whom no woman or child as yet had ever cursed; he leaped up and
followed. They passed the silent sentries; none challenged and none
saluted; they were moving swiftly over the town as the felon Gothas
go; they came to a cottage in the country.
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