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Updated: May 21, 2025
But they were now dressed for the most part in the costume of the Russian Monjik, while some of them appeared in American wideawakes and Kentucky frock coats, or in English stove-pipe hats and morning coats. A few of the stouter were in Highland costume. "You are amazed," said Boobenstein as we stood a moment looking at the motley crowd. "What does it mean?" I asked. "One moment," said the count.
Workingman! It is Field Marshal Hindenburg. It means of course that the same old crowd are back again. That was Ludendorf standing below. I saw it all at once. Perhaps it is the only way. But as for me I shall not go back: I am too deeply compromised: it would be death." Boobenstein remained for a time in deep thought, his fingers beating a tattoo on the little table. Then he spoke.
"I shall be only too happy," I said. "I shall leave my pistols and knives here," said Boobenstein, "and if you will excuse me I shall change my costume a little. To appear as I am would excite too much enthusiasm. I shall walk out with you in the simple costume of a gentleman. It's a risky thing to do in Berlin, but I'll chance it."
'Boob, he said to me one day with tears in his eyes, 'this war must be stopped. 'Which war, your Serenity, I asked. 'The war that is coming next month, he answered, 'I look to you, Count Boobenstein, he continued, 'to bear witness that I am doing my utmost to stop it a month before the English Government has heard of it."
"My choice is made," said Von Boobenstein. "There are worse things than death. I am about to surrender myself to the German authorities." III. Afternoon Tea with the Sultan A Study of Reconstruction in Turkey On the very day following the events related in the last chapter, I was surprised and delighted to receive a telegram which read "Come on to Constantinople and write US up too."
"Wonderful," I said. "Is it not?" said Von Boobenstein. "We call it the From Germany Out movement. It is being organised in great detail by our Step from Under Committee. They claim that already four million German voters are pledged to forget the war and to forgive the Allies.
"Admirable," I said. We seated ourselves in the crazy conveyance, the count whispered to the chauffeur an address which my ear failed to catch and we started off at a lumbering pace along the street. "And now tell me, Boobenstein," I said, "what does it all mean, the foreign signs and the strange costumes?" "My dear sir" he replied, "it is merely a further proof of our German adaptability.
A wild cheer woke from the people. "The Bolsheviks' Republic is overthrown. The Bolsheviks are aristocrats. Let them die." "Thank Heaven for this costume!" I heard Count Boobenstein murmur at my side. Then he seized his pea-green hat and waved it in the air, shouting: "Down with the Bolsheviks!" All about us the cry was taken up.
"Hurrah!" shouted Boobenstein, waving his hat in the air. Then in a whisper to me: "Let us go," he said, "while the going is still good." The count with a deep sigh of relief ordered wine. "You recognized him, of course?" he said. "Who?" I asked. "You mean the big working-man that spoke? Who is he?" "So you didn't recognize him?" said the count. "Well, well, but of course all the rest did.
In that state I was supposed to be conducted about the country by my friend Count Boob von Boobenstein, whom I had known years before as a waiter in Toronto, to see GERMANY FROM WITHIN, and to report upon it in the Allied press. What I wrote attracted some attention.
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