For no sooner had the United States entered the war against Germany than an ugly anti-German hysteria had begun. Anything that sounded German was now suspect. German-language journals were being closed, while in Britain, Keller pointed out, even the Lord Chancellor had been forced out of office because, in an unguarded moment, he’d remarked that he still loved German music and philosophy.

“What about me?” he said. “My family were German, and I’m certainly not going to stop listening to Beethoven or reading Goethe and Schiller because of the war. That would be absurd. Why, I even speak German.”

“Really?” said William.

“Yes. My father could hardly speak a word, but a few years ago I got interested in German literature and wanted to read it in the original, so I started taking lessons. I speak it almost fluently now.”

From there the conversation turned to the temperance movement, which had been becoming increasingly strident recently.

“I hate those people,” Charlie declared with passion. His father smiled and remarked that this was hardly surprising. Keller then politely inquired what Rose thought about it.

“We belong to the Episcopal Church,” she answered, quietly. Surely Keller must know that people like herself had nothing to do with these growing calls—which had even reached Congress now—for Prohibition. The whole thing was driven by Methodists, Baptists, Congregationalists and other churches that mostly catered to a different class of person.

“The irony,” William said, “is that if Prohibition does get passed, we shall probably have the war to thank for it. The Episcopal and Catholic Churches may not support the idea, but the most effective lobbying against it has always come from the brewing interests, which are mostly owned by families with German names. And as you rightly say, Keller, everything German’s so unpopular now that nobody wants to listen to them. It’s really absurd.”

And what did his hostess think of votes for women? Keller asked.

“Votes for women?” Rose paused. Alva Belmont’s cause had been making some headway, though the suffragists were quieter now, with the war claiming everyone’s attention. Rose hated to be on the same side as Alva Belmont, but she admitted grudgingly: “I think it will come. It should.”

Rose could see that, although William understood her reservations about Keller, her husband still found the historian interesting. What was Keller’s opinion of the situation in Russia? he wanted to know. Rather to her surprise, Edmund Keller seemed pessimistic.

“It’s impossible to predict,” he said, “but if history is anything to go by, then I am fearful. The French Revolution might have been splendid, but it still introduced a reign of terror.”

“The tragedy to my mind,” William Master remarked, “is that despite all Russia’s problems, the economy was growing rapidly until this war began. Russia might have developed into a prosperous and contented nation.”

Here, however, Keller could not agree. “I just don’t think that the tsar’s autocracy could be sustained,” he said. “As a historian, I may foresee bloodshed, but it’s hard to blame the Russians for wanting a change of government.”