"Now you know my friends, official and otherwise," concluded Wilhelm, again addressing Krupp; "about my aims I have talked to you before. Always bear in mind that I am German Emperor—an expansive title relating to all lands and peoples of the Germanic family, no matter what name they may go under.
"We must have German Holland and German Belgium, German Tyrol and German Switzerland, and, of course, German Austria. As you know, I have a good title to the whole of North-Eastern France, too, but I will waive that for the Continental Channel coast."
"Your Majesty must have Trieste," said Delbrueck.
"I must have and mean to have all the naval outlets and outposts necessary to German trade and my protection," said Wilhelm in most Olympian style.
A Letter from Count Metternich—Scaring the Kaiser—Bertha Offends the War Lord—Using the Secret Code—For "The Day"—An Awful Oath—The Kaiser Wins
"I can almost forgive Metternich for allowing himself to be bested by Sir Frank, for that last yarn he sent me is not to be sneezed at. Bertha and Krupp are on the point of a momentous quarrel. Some pacifist idiot—a woman, probably—put a plea in her ear about ’trade in murder,’ ’profit in man-killing,’ and that sort of thing, and the baby did the rest.
"She sits on the Huegel, befouling the machinery for conquest-making below her windows.
"’Some of the ordnance we are sending to China to-day may kill my unborn child,’" she writes, "and things have come to such a pass that Krupp had to instruct the coachman to avoid certain roads where Bertha’s carriage might meet with ammunition and other transports.
"And ever since, all day long and half the night, she accuses Krupp of using her money to forge guns and bullets that, by and by, may seek the heart or limbs of his own son.
"’Don’t I know when war will break out?’ he retorted angrily the other day. ’Long before that our boy will be on a journey round the world.’ Think of a Prussian officer forced to indulge in such damnable stuff!" cried the War Lord.
"I submit, Your Majesty, that one has to temporise with women, especially with a young mother," suggested Prince Bülow.
"Silly sentimentalities," sneered the War Lord; "I want none of them. Bertha has to be broken of her freak—broken," he repeated, gritting his teeth. "Why," he continued, "she even refuses to take joy in her charities now, because, she says, ’money made out of armaments is tainted and no good can come from it.’