"All but the sheep have a word to say
now and then. Of course there always will be women who will grovel at
the feet of men merely because they are men; but look out for the others
when this accursed war is over. God! How I hate men! To think that once
I dreamed and hoped like the silly romantic girl I was that some day
some man would marry me in spite of my poverty. Now I would not marry
one of the Kaiser's sons. Sick or well, German, English, French, I
loathe them all alike. Obscene beasts every one of them; but I hate the
Germans most, for they are the most disgusting invalids. And I am a
German girl, too. France has never had any call for me. It is Marie who
would be all French if she could. Poor little Marie, with her drab face
and hair, her poverty, her dynamic body, mad to marry, and climbing out
of the window when mother is asleep, to go to Socialists' meetings and
scream off her pent-up passions. What a hideous world!"
She sprang to her feet and flung her arms above her head and glared at
the unresponsive stars.
"O God!" she prayed. "Deliver us! Deliver us from war and deliver us
from men! Deliver us from Kings and deliver us from criminal jealousies
and ambitions and greeds that the innocent millions expiate in blood and
tears! Deliver us from cowards--" She whirled suddenly upon Gisela.
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