He played "Rule Britannia" and "God Save the King," the "Marseillaise"
and the Russian National hymn, all at the same time. He would have
included "Deutschland uber Alles," if Joan hadn't made a supreme effort
and stopped him. Evidently a sporting little devil. He took himself off
into a corner after a time, where he played quietly to himself; and Joan
was able to join in the conversation.
Greyson spoke with an enthusiasm that was unusual to him. So many of our
wars had been mean wars--wars for the wrong; sordid wars for territory,
for gold mines; wars against the weak at the bidding of our traders, our
financiers. "Shouldering the white man's burden," we called it. Wars
for the right of selling opium; wars to perpetuate the vile rule of the
Turk because it happened to serve our commercial interests. This time,
we were out to play the knight; to save the smaller peoples; to rescue
our once "sweet enemy," fair France. Russia was the disturbing thought.
It somewhat discounted the knight-errant idea, riding stirrup to stirrup
beside that barbarian horseman.
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