Monsieur Segotin's Story
God's earth without butting your head against one or more of them. I would prefer my world to be a little less full of that race. For, mark me, my good Monsieur"—and he laid a finger along his nose—"though those who come here to Blankenberghe in the summer go back whence they came, one day, one day, they will not go back unless they are driven. And it will be the same everywhere else. One day—pray God it may not be in my time—we shall all wake up to find them in command of the entire situation—everywhere. And then what will remain for us to do, unless it be to hang ourselves upon the nearest tree, supposing always they do not save us that trouble by doing it for us? No, Monsieur, do not ask a Belgian who loves his country whether he likes those people. Belgium is too near a neighbour of theirs for her to view them with anything but concern. Let England hope for Germany's friendship if she will—and she is mad, I tell you, to do so—but do not ask Belgium to look for anything good from that quarter. I tell you that those people have made up their minds to be the inheritors of the earth—and not by meekness. Examine them from here, through my door. Do they not already comport themselves like conquerors? See how they strut and with what complacency they roll their eyes over these fine sands of ours. There are few beaches like this in their country. To-day they bring their children here long journeys in the train to play on our sands among our children. But one day, unless we are all more careful than we
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