had with him, and I do not know whether he ever carried out his
intention of discussing the matter with the monarch.

The two Balkan wars were as summer lightning before the coming
European thunderstorm. It was obvious to anyone acquainted with Balkan
conditions that the peace there had produced no definite result, and
the Peace of Bucharest in 1913, so enthusiastically acclaimed by
Roumania, carried the germ of death at its birth. Bulgaria was
humiliated and reduced; Roumania and, above all, Serbia, enlarged out
of all proportion, were arrogant to a degree that baffles description.
Albania, as the apple of discord between Austria-Hungary and Italy,
was a factor that gave no promise of relief, but only of fresh wars.
In order to understand the excessive hatred prevailing between the
separate nations, one must have lived in the Balkans. When this hatred
came to an outburst in the world war the most terrible scenes were
enacted, and as an example it was notorious that the Roumanians tore
their Bulgarian prisoners to pieces with their teeth, and that the
Bulgarians, on their part, tortured the Roumanian prisoners to death
in the most shocking manner. The brutality of the Serbians in the war
can best be described by our own troops. The Emperor Francis Joseph
clearly foresaw that the peace after the second Balkan war was merely
a respite to draw breath before a new war. Prior to my departure for
Bucharest in 1913 I was received in audience by the aged emperor, who
said to me: "The Peace of Bucharest is untenable, and we are faced by
a new war. God grant that it may be confined to the Balkans." Serbia,
which had been enlarged to double its size, was far from being
satisfied; but, on the contrary, was more than ever ambitious of
becoming a Great Power.

Apparently the situation was still quiet. In fact, a few weeks before