were thronged with middle-class folk among whom were thousands of men who had taken off their uniforms a few days before our coming, or had "civilised" themselves by tearing off their shoulder-straps and badges. As our first squadron rode into the great Cathedral Square on the way to the Hohenzollern bridge many people in the crowds turned their heads away and did not glance at the British cavalry. We were deliberately ignored, and I thought that for the Germans it was the best attitude, with most dignity. Others stared gravely at the passing cavalcade, showing no excitement, no hostility, no friendliness, no emotion of any kind. Here and there I met eyes which were regarding me with a dark, brooding look, and others in which there was profound melancholy. That night, when I wandered out alone and lost my way, and asked for direction, two young men, obviously officers until a few days back, walked part of the way to put me right, and said, "Bitte schön! Bitte schön!" when I thanked them, and saluted with the utmost courtesy. . . . I wondered what would have happened in London if we had been defeated and if German officers had walked out alone at night and lost themselves in by-streets, and asked the way. Imagination fails before such a thought. Certainly our civility would not have been so easy. We could not have hidden our hatred like that, if these were hiding hatred.
Somehow I could not find even the smouldering fires of hate in any German with whom I spoke that day. I could find only a kind of dazed and stupor-like recognition of defeat, a deep sadness among humble people, a profound anxiety as to the future fate of a ruined Germany, and a hope in the justice of England and America.
A score of us had luncheon at the Domhof Hotel, opposite the Cathedral which Harding had hoped to see in flames. The manager bowed us in as if we had
