"Then I ask no more of you than that, Don Michael.... _Until your
country enters the war_."
Her breath close to my ear--the girl's nearness, and the sweet, fresh
youth of her, all were doing the business for me.
"Thusis?"
"Yes?"
"Lean nearer. I want to whisper to you."
She inclined her dainty head: the fragrance of her hair interfered with
my articulation:
"My country," said I, "is not likely to go to war.... But I am."
She said, smilingly: "The fine army of Chile is organized and
disciplined on the German plan. Doubtless this fact, and the influence
of German drill-masters, prejudices many Chileans in favor of entering
this war."