The Kaiser looked again. Yes, there was nothing there, it was just a
vision. There were the grey walls all damp and uncared for, and that
helmet standing out solid and round, like the only real thing among
fancies. No, it had never been. It was just a vision.

``It might have been,'' said the phantom.

Might have been? How might it have been?

``Come,'' said the phantom.

They drifted away down a little lane that in summer would have had
roses, and came to an Uhlan's house; in times of peace a small farmer.
Farm buildings in good repair showed even in the night, and the black
shapes of haystacks; again a well-kept garden lay by the house. The
phantom and the Kaiser stood in the garden; before them a window
glowed in a lamplit room.

``Look,'' said the phantom.

The Kaiser looked again and saw a young couple; the woman played with
a baby, and all was prosperous in the merry room. Again the hard-won
wealth of Germany shone out for all to see, the cosy comfortable
furniture spoke of acres well cared for, spoke of victory in the
struggle with the seasons on which wealth of nations depends.

``It might have been,'' said the phantom. Again the fire died out and
the merry scene faded away, leaving a melancholy, ill-kept room, with
poverty and mourning haunting dusty corners and the woman sitting
alone.