But only for a moment.
Berlin suddenly burst into a blinding glare of light. Unter den
Linden from end to end--excepting only the royal palaces--with
its long line of imposing public buildings, hotels, and shops,
the Kaiser-Franz-Joseph-Platz, the Zeugplatz, the Lustgarten--the
Schlossplatz--all the magnificent expanse from the Brandenburg gate to a
quarter of a mile beyond the river Spree--had been strung and looped
with electric lights, and the scene looked as if touched with a royal
fairy's wand. The side streets from the Royal Library and the old Kaiser
Wilhelm palace as far as the Schlossbruecke, were also brilliantly
illuminated.
And in all these streets and squares women stood in close ranks, silent,
phlegmatic women, with pistols in their belts and rifles with fixed
bayonets on their shoulders, the steel reflecting the terrific downpour
of light with a steady and menacing glitter. These women wore gray
uniforms and there were shining Prussian helmets on their heads.
In every window was a double row of women, armed; and the housetops were
crowded with them. There were also machine guns on the roofs, pointing
downward or toward the roof of the palace.
Mariette laughed. "Theatric enough to please even his taste? Our last
tribute. Let us hope he will enjoy it.
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