These
trees of yours are mere upstarts. Why shouldn't they be cut? What?"
"But they are very dear to us," pleaded the baron earnestly. "We
all love them, my wife and children and I. To us they are sacred.
It would be harsh to take them from us."
"Baron," said the prince, with suave malice, "you miss the point.
We Germans are never harsh. But we are practical. My soldiers need
exercise. The camps need wood. Do you see? What?"
"Certainly," answered the poor baron, humbling himself in his
devotion to his trees. "Your Highness makes the point perfectly
clear--the need of exercise and wood. But there is plenty of good
timber in the forest and the park--much easier to cut. Cannot your
men get their wood and their exercise there, and spare my dearest
trees?"
Ludra laughed unpleasantly.
"You do not yet understand us, dear landlord. We Germans are
a hard-working people, not like the lazy Belgians. The harder the
work the better we like it. The soldiers will have a fine time
chopping down your tough beeches."
The slender old man drew himself up, his eyes flashed, he was driven
to bay.
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