1901

Becker snorted. “Austria is not an asset and the Italians are worse. They are the Negroes of Europe.”

Holstein was quite frankly amazed, not by the harshness of the appraisal, since it so closely mirrored his own; rather, that such prescience came from someone outside the government. If a presumed nonentity like Becker understood this, how many others did as well? Perhaps there was more depth to the Reichstag than Holstein thought.

Becker had additional things on his mind. “There is a more personal reason for my objections. The kaiser has our army and our reserves fighting the Americans, many of whom are of German descent. I-we-are truly upset that we might be fighting and killing our own blood relatives for no good reason. Sir, I have a brother in America and he has three sons. I have another brother still in Germany, and his son is in our army. My wife, my family, and I are distraught at the thought of them possibly fighting and killing each other. It would be different if the United States had attacked us, sir, but this is totally the opposite. Again, I swear to you that I and mine would die to defend this Reich. The kaiser refers to it as the Second Reich, and it has been almost a thousand years since the first. Should this German nation fail as a result of this foolishness, I fear I will never live to see a Third Reich.”

There was little further meaningful conversation. Holstein implied his support while Becker again asserted his loyalty to the kaiser and the Reich. Finally Holstein hinted that the conversation should be concluded, and Becker departed after yet a further protestation of loyalty.

Alone, Holstein brooded upon the conversation. Becker was the intelligent voice of modern and moderate Germany. He was intensely loyal and proud of his new nation, yet very unhappy with the current state of affairs. If such a man as Becker was so distressed, then what of the others? Certainly, Becker was not a radical, not one of the students rioting in the university cities like Heidelberg. Becker had only a nephew or two serving in the armies. What of those who had sons and brothers? Or husbands and fathers, what with the reserves now being sent over. With more than a hundred thousand soldiers and many thousands more naval personnel involved, how many angry and dissatisfied families were there? The kaiser, he thought sadly, would never understand.

The meal was over and Patrick was stuffed. Trina had come up with a tender beefsteak covered with an elegant wine sauce and mushrooms, delicate mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables, and an apple pie dessert that was light and sinfully good. Washed down with a decent Bordeaux, it was, he decided, about as good as dinner gets.

“Some more pie, Patrick?”

With sincere regrets he declined. “I suppose I should have stopped eating at some point to tell you how delicious everything was.”

She smiled, delighted. “I cooked it all myself.”

“Really?”

“Of course not. I did help and could cook if it were the only way to avert starvation, but Molly did most of it, and I bought the pie from a neighbor.”

“And I’ll bet you didn’t stomp the grapes for the wine, either,” he added, wiping what he hoped were the last crumbs from his chin.

“ ‘Fraid not.” They both smiled at the vision of the elegant and very patrician Katrina Schuyler jumping up and down in a grape-filled vat.

Cautiously, so as not to disturb his meal, he rose, and the two of them walked through the house and out to the yard. It was getting measurably darker as the days neared the start of fall, and, although it was still quite warm, there was the barest hint of the coming winter in the air. They sat side by side on a high-backed bench.

“Katrina, do you like baseball?”

She turned, her eyes wide. “Why Patrick, I do believe that’s the most romantic question anyone’s ever asked. Was it the meal or the wine?”

He chuckled. “Both. So, do you?”

“I’ve seen a few games. They’re rather slow but pleasant enough. Why?”

“Well, I read the papers every day and see the scores. It reminds me there’s a life going on without me. There’s a major-league team now in Detroit and I’ve never seen them. Frankly, and for no logical reason, it left me a little depressed.”

“I think I know the feeling.” Life, she sometimes thought, was passing her by as well.

“Do you like football? Basketball?”

She laughed. “I hate football. I’ve seen games at Princeton, but it’s just a bunch of thugs trying to push each other down a field. I have no opinion on basketball since I have only heard of it and never seen it played. I understand the purpose of it and that it can be quite rough.”

“It’s a new game meant to be played indoors. Teams of men try to put a large ball in a basket.”

“Sounds rather foolish.”

“So does any game when you try to analyze it, I guess.”

They were silent for a few moments, each taking in the presence of the other. Finally Trina broke the spell. “Patrick, Heinz will be coming home to us in a few days and I will again be forced to look at what war does. When will this end?”