The Mouse That Roared Read Online Free PDF

Your Highness,” interposed Mountjoy, “we cannot feed our people on honour. If it is a choice between honour and want, between spiritual or physical survival, then the material things must come first. Man did not discover he had a soul until he was well fed, with prospects of that condition continuing for some time. Hungry people cannot afford honour and hungry nations cannot indulge in too nice manners.”
    “You’re wrong there,” said Benter. “I’m beginning to like that man Tully, though in the past I found him too contrary for comfort. To my way of thinking, neither men nor nations can survive without keeping their self-respect.“
    “Precisely what Bascomb himself had to say,’’ said Gloriana. “In any case, he refused to form a Communist party because he said he didn’t agree with Communism, and from what I could gather he didn’t agree with democracy either. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure what he did agree with.”
    “We had better get back to watering the wine,” interposed Benter. “It is the only way out of our difficulties. And there is nothing dishonourable about it. There is no statement on the Grand Fenwick label as to what is the water content in the bottle.”
    “You will ruin the major source of revenue of the country if you do,” rejoined Mountjoy, with some heat.
    “I don’t believe either of you are right,” said Gloriana.
    “Perhaps Mr. Bascomb had a solution to propose?” asked Mountjoy, with more than a trace of sarcasm.
    “That is precisely why I called this meeting,” replied Gloriana. “Mr. Bascomb has got a solution which will provide us with the money we need from the United States and leave our national honour unbesmirched.” She paused to give emphasis to what was to follow.
    “Mr. Bascomb,” she said, separating each word distinctly from the next, “has convinced me that we should declare war on the United States.”
    For the second time that morning Count Mountjoy dropped his monocle. Mr. Benter gave a little start, as if he had been dozing and someone had poked him hard in the back with a finger.
    “Go to war with the United States?” he said, in such disbelief that he seemed scarcely able to credit having heard the appalling words.
    “Go to war with the United States?” echoed the Count, so profoundly shocked that he had not yet replaced his monocle, without which, he was wont to maintain, no man could claim to be fully dressed.
    “Go to war with the United States,” repeated Gloriana, grimly, evenly and, indeed, with a savour of approval.
    The Count shuddered. He picked up his monocle and put it in place, as if this gesture, by some special magic of its own, might help restore the world to sanity. He smoothed his silver hair with long fingers that trembled slightly. He so far forgot himself as to wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.
    “The man’s mad,” he said, at last. “Completely bereft of his senses. He’s dangerous. Talk like that could result in the most serious trouble. Reported in certain sections of the United States Press, it might arouse such popular feelings against us as to cost us the greater part of our American market for Pinot. If that should happen, we might as well go to war with the United States indeed, or with the whole world, for that matter. For all would be lost anyway. Bascomb, Your Highness, should be locked up for a raving lunatic. He has been at large too long.”
    Benter was inclined to agree. The unparalleled proposal, so calmly presented by the ruler of the duchy, had robbed him for a while of his ability to as much as frame a thought, let alone say a word. But the denunciations of the opposition, represented by the Count, had loosed his tongue, and he was now intensely curious to know the reason why such a remarkable plan had been advanced.
    “Your Grace,” he said, when the Count had calmed down, “what advantage did Bascomb believe we could reap from a declaration of war against the Americans?”
    “He