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diff --git a/13738-h/13738-h.htm b/13738-h/13738-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1563c47 --- /dev/null +++ b/13738-h/13738-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16364 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Last Shot, by Frederick Palmer</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: .75em; + } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:#ff0000} + pre {font-size: 8pt;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13738 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Last Shot, by Frederick Palmer</h1> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>THE LAST SHOT</h1> +<h3>By</h3> +<h2>FREDERICK PALMER</h2> +<p style='text-align: center;'>Author of "Over the Pass," etc.</p> +<p style='text-align: center;'>1914</p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p>TO THE READER</p> +<p>This story of war grew out of my experience in many wars. I have +been under fire without fighting; known the comradeship of arms +without bearing arms, and the hardships and the humors of the march +with only an observer's incentive. A singular career, begun by +chance, was pursued to the ends of the earth in the study of the +greatest drama which the earth stages. Whether watching a small +force of white regulars disciplining a primitive people, or the +complex tactics of huge army against huge army; whether watching +war in the large or in the small, I have found the same basic human +qualities in the white heat of conflict working out the same +illusions, heroisms, tragedies, and comedies.</p> +<p>The fellowship of campaigning made the cause of the force that I +accompanied mine for the time being. Thus, one who settles in the +town of A absorbs its local feeling of rivalry against the town of +B in athletic games or character of citizenship. To A, B is never +quite sportsmanlike; B is provincial and bigoted and generally +inferior. But settle in B and your prejudices reverse their favor +from A to B.</p> +<p>Yet in the midst of battle, with the detachment of a +non-combatant marvelling at the irony of two lines of men engaged +in an effort at mutual extermination, I have caught myself thinking +with the other side. I knew why my side was busy at killing. Why +was the other? For the same reasons as ours.</p> +<p>I was seeing humanity against humanity. A man killed was a man +killed, courage was courage, sacrifice was sacrifice, romance was +romance, a heart-broken mother was a heart-broken mother, a village +burned was a village burned, regardless of race or nation. Every +war became a story in a certain set form: the rise of the war +passion; the conflict; victory and defeat; and then peace, in +joyous relief, which the nations enjoyed before they took the +trouble to fight for it.</p> +<p>But such thoughts have been a familiar theme to the poet, the +novelist, the dramatist, the satirist, the dreamer, and the peace +propagandist, while the world goes on arming. In want of their +talent, I offer experience of the monstrous object of their gibes +and imagination. To me, the old war novels have the atmosphere of +smoke powder and antiquated tactics which still survived when I +went on my first campaign sixteen years ago. These classic +masterpieces endure through their genius; the excuse of any plodder +who chooses their theme to-day is that he deals with the material +of to-day.</p> +<p>Methods of light and of motive power have not changed more +rapidly in the forty-odd years since the last great European war +than the soldier's weapons and his work. With all the symbols of +economic improvement the public is familiar, while usually it +thinks of war in the old symbols for want of familiarity with the +new. My aim is to express not only war as fought to-day, soldiers +of to-day under the fire of arms of to-day, but also the effects of +war in the <i>n</i>th degree of modern organization and methods on +a group of men and women, free in its realism from the wild +improbabilities of some latter-day novelists who have given us wars +in the air or regaled us with the decimation of armies by +explosives dropped from dirigibles or their asphyxiation by noxious +gases compounded by the hero of the tale.</p> +<p>The Russo-Japanese and the Balkan campaigns, particular in their +nature, gave me useful impressions, but not the scene for my +purpose. The world must think of those wars comparatively as +second-rate and only partially illustrative, when its fearful +curiosity and more fearful apprehension centre on the possibility +of the clash of arms between the enormous forces of two first-class +European land-powers, with their supreme training and precision in +arms. What would such a war mean in reality to the soldiers +engaged? What the play of human elements? What form the new +symbols? Therefore have I laid my scene in a small section of a +European frontier, and the time the present.</p> +<p>Identify your combatants, some friends insist. Make the Italians +fight the Austrians or the French fight the Germans. As a spectator +of wars, under the spell of the growing cosmopolitanism that makes +mankind more and more akin, I could not see it in that way and be +true to my experience. My soldiers exist for my purpose only as +human beings. Race prejudices they have. Race prejudice is one of +the factors of war. But make the prejudice English, Italian, +German, Russian, or French and there is the temptation for reader +and author to forget the story of men as men and war as war. Even +as in the long campaign in Manchuria I would see a battle simply as +an argument to the death between little fellows in short khaki +blouses and big fellows in long gray coats, so I see the Browns and +the Grays in "The Last Shot" take the field.</p> +<p>But, though the scene is imaginary, the characters are from +life. Their actions and their sayings are those of men whom I have +studied under the stress of danger and sudden emergency. The +delightful, boyish confidence of Eugene Aronson has been at my +elbow in a charge; Feller I knew in the tropics as an outcast who +shared my rations; Dellarme's last words I heard from a dying +captain; the philosophy of Hugo Mallin is no less familiar than the +bragging of Pilzer or the transformation of Stransky, who whistled +a wedding-march as he pumped bullets at the enemy. In Lanstron we +have a type of the modern officer; in the elder Fragini a type of +the soldier of another day. Each marches in his place and plays his +part in the sort of spectacle that I have often watched. If there +be no particular hero, then I can only say, in confidence behind +the scenes, that I have found no one man, however heroic in the +martial imagination of his country, to be a particular hero in +fact. Take, for example, our trembling little Peterkin, who won the +bronze cross for courage.</p> +<p>As for Marta and Minna, they speak for another element—for +a good half of the world's population that does not bear arms. In a +siege once I had glimpses of women under fire and I learned that +bravery is not an exclusively masculine trait. The game of +solitaire? Well, it occurred in a house in the midst of bursting +shells. But the part that Marta plays? Is it extravaganza? Not in +war. The author sees it as something very real.</p> +<p>FREDERICK PALMER.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table align='center' border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' +summary=''> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#I'>I.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#I'>A SPECK IN THE SKY</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#II'>II.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#II'>TEN YEARS LATER</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#III'>III.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#III'>OURS AND THEIRS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#IV'>IV.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#IV'>THE DIVIDENDS OF POWER</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#V'>V.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#V'>OFF TO THE FRONTIER</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#VI'>VI.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#VI'>THE SECOND PROPHECY</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#VII'>VII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#VII'>TIMES HAVE CHANGED</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#VIII'>VIII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#VIII'>THANKS TO A BUMBLEBEE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#IX'>IX.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#IX'>A SUNDAY MORNING CALL</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#X'>X.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#X'>A LUNCHEON AT THE GALLANDS'</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XI'>XI.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XI'>MARTA HEARS FELLER'S STORY</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XII'>XII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XII'>A CRISIS WITHIN A CRISIS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XIII'>XIII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XIII'>BREAKING A PAPER-KNIFE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XIV'>XIV.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XIV'>IN PARTOW'S OFFICE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XV'>XV.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XV'>CLOSE TO THE WHITE POSTS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XVI'>XVI.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XVI'>DELLARME'S MEN GET A +MASCOT</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XVII'>XVII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XVII'>A SUNDAY MORNING IN TOWN</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XVIII'>XVIII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XVIII'>THE BAPTISM OF FIRE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XIX'>XIX.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XIX'>RECEIVING THE CHARGE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XX'>XX.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XX'>MARTA'S FIRST GLIMPSE OF +WAR</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXI'>XXI.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXI'>SHE CHANGES HER MIND</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXII'>XXII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXII'>FLOWERS FOR THE WOUNDED</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXIII'>XXIII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXIII'>STRANSKY FIGHTS ALONE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXIV'>XXIV.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXIV'>THE MAKING OF A HERO</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXV'>XXV.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXV'>THE TERRIBLE NIGHT</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXVI'>XXVI.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXVI'>FELLER IS TEMPTED</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXVII'>XXVII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXVII'>HAND TO HAND</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXVIII'>XXVIII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXVIII'>AN APPEAL TO PARTOW</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXIX'>XXIX.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXIX'>THROUGH THE VENEER</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXX'>XXX.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXX'>MARTA MEETS HUGO</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXXI'>XXXI.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXXI'>UNTO CÆSAR</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXXII'>XXXII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXXII'>TEA ON THE VERANDA AGAIN</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXXIII'>XXXIII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXXIII'>IN FELLER'S PLACE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXXIV'>XXXIV.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXXIV'>THREE VOICES</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXXV'>XXXV.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXXV'>MRS. GALLAND INSISTS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXXVI'>XXXVI.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXXVI'>MARKING TIME</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXXVII'>XXXVII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXXVII'>THUMBS DOWN FOR +BOUCHARD</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXXVIII'>XXXVIII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXXVIII'>HUNTING GHOSTS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XXXIX'>XXXIX.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XXXIX'>A CHANGE OF PLAN</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XL'>XL.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XL'>WITH FRACASSE'S MEN</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XLI'>XLI.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XLI'>WITH FELLER AND STRANSKY</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XLII'>XLII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XLII'>THE RAM</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XLIII'>XLIII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XLIII'>JOVE'S ISOLATION</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XLIV'>XLIV.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XLIV'>TURNING THE TABLES</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XLV'>XLV.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XLV'>THE RETREAT</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XLVI'>XLVI.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XLVI'>THE LAST SHOT</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='right'><a href='#XLVII'>XLVII.</a></td> +<td align='left'><a href='#XLVII'>THE PEACE OF WISDOMDOM</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<h1>THE LAST SHOT</h1> +<br> +<a name='I' id="I"></a> +<h2>I</h2> +<h3>A SPECK IN THE SKY</h3> +<br> +<p>It was Marta who first saw the speck in the sky. Her outcry and +her bound from her seat at the tea-table brought her mother and +Colonel Westerling after her onto the lawn, where they became +motionless figures, screening their eyes with their hands. The +newest and most wonderful thing in the world at the time was this +speck appearing above the irregular horizon of the Brown range, in +view of a landscape that centuries of civilization had fertilized +and cultivated and formed.</p> +<p>At the base of the range ran a line of white stone posts, placed +by international commissions of surveyors to the nicety of an +inch's variation. In the very direction of the speck's flight a +spur of foot-hills extended into the plain that stretched away to +the Gray range, distinct at the distance of thirty miles in the +bright afternoon light. Faithful to their part in refusing to +climb, the white posts circled around the spur, hugging the +levels.</p> +<p>In the lap of the spur was La Tir, the old town, and on the +other side of the boundary lay South La Tir, the new town. Through +both ran the dusty ribbon of a road, drawn straight across the +plain and over the glistening thread of a river. On its way to the +pass of the Brown range it skirted the garden of the Gallands, +which rose in terraces to a seventeenth-century house overlooking +the old town from its outskirts. They were such a town, such a +road, such a landscape as you may see on many European frontiers. +The Christian people who lived in the region were like the +Christian people you know if you look for the realities of human +nature under the surface differences of language and habits.</p> +<p>Beyond the house rose the ruins of a castle, its tower still +intact. Marta always referred to the castle as the baron; for in +her girlhood she had a way of personifying all inanimate things. If +the castle walls were covered with hoar frost, she said that the +baron was shivering; if the wind tore around the tower, she said +that the baron was groaning over the democratic tendencies of the +time. On such a summer afternoon as this, the baron was growing old +gracefully, at peace with his enemies.</p> +<p>Centuries older than the speck in the sky was the baron; but the +pass road was many more, countless more, centuries older than he. +It had been a trail for tribes long before Roman legions won a +victory in the pass, which was acclaimed an imperial triumph. To +hold the pass was to hold the range. All the blood shed there would +make a red river, inundating the plain. Marta, a maker of pictures, +saw how the legions, brown, sinewy, lean aliens, looked in their +close ranks. They were no less real to her imagination than the +infantry of the last war thirty years ago, or the Crusaders who +came that way, or the baron in person and his shaggy-bearded, +uncouth, ignorant ruffians who were their own moral law, leaving +their stronghold to plunder the people of the fertile plain of the +fruits of their toil.</p> +<p>Stone axe, spear and bow, javelin and broadsword, blunderbuss +and creaking cannon—all the weapons of all stages in the art +of war—had gone trooping past. Now had come the speck in the +sky, straight on, like some projectile born of the ether.</p> +<p>"Beside the old baron, we are parvenus," Marta would say. "And +what a parvenu the baron would have been to the Roman +aristocrat!"</p> +<p>"Our family is old enough—none older in the province!" +Mrs. Galland would reply. "Marta, how your mind does wander! I'd +get a headache just contemplating the things you are able to think +of in five minutes."</p> +<p>The first Galland had built a house on the land that his king +had given him for one of the most brilliant feats of arms in the +history of the pass. He had the advantage of the baron in that he +could read and write, though with difficulty. Marta had an idea +that he was not presentable at a tea-table; however, he must have +been more so than the baron, who, she guessed, would have grabbed +all the cakes on the plate as a sheer matter of habit in taking +what he wanted unless a stronger than he interfered.</p> +<p>Even the tower, raised to the glory of an older family whose +descendants, if any survived, were unaware of their lineage, had +become known as the Galland tower. The Gallands were rooted in the +soil of the frontier; they were used to having war's hot breath +blow past their door; they were at home in the language and customs +of two peoples; theirs was a peculiar tradition, which Marta had +absorbed with her first breath. Every detail of her circumscribed +existence reminded her that she was a Galland.</p> +<p>Town and plain and range were the first vista of landscape that +she had seen; doubtless they would be the last. Meanwhile, there +was the horizon. She was particularly fond of looking at it. If you +are seventeen, with a fanciful mind, you can find much information +not in histories or encyclopædias or the curricula of schools +in the horizon.</p> +<p>There she had learned that the Roman aristocrat had turned his +thumb down to a lot of barbarian captives because he had a fit of +indigestion, and the next day, when his digestion was better, he +had scattered coins among barbarian children; that Napoleon, who +had also gone over the pass road, was a pompous, fat little man, +who did not always wipe his upper lip clean of snuff when he was on +a campaign; that the baron's youngest daughter had lost her +eyesight from a bodkin thrust for telling her sister, who had her +father's temper, that she was developing a double chin.</p> +<p>For the people of Maria's visions were humanly real to her, and +as such she liked and understood them. If the first Galland were +half a robber, to disguise the fact because he was her ancestor was +not playing fair. It made him only a lay figure of romance.</p> +<p>One or two afternoons a week Colonel Hedworth Westerling, +commander of the regimental post of the Grays on the other side of +the white posts, stretched his privilege of crossing the frontier +and appeared for tea at the Gallands'. It meant a pleasant +half-hour breaking a long walk, a relief from garrison +surroundings. Favored in mind and person, favored in high places, +he had become a colonel at thirty-two. People with fixed ideas as +to the appearance of a soldier said that he looked every inch the +commander. He was tall, strong-built, his deep, broad chest +suggesting powerful energy. Conscious of his abilities, it was not +without reason that he thought well of himself, in view of the +order, received that morning, which was to make this a farewell +call.</p> +<p>He had found Mrs. Galland an agreeable reflection of an +aristocratic past. The daughter had what he defined vaguely as +girlish piquancy. He found it amusing to try to answer her unusual +questions; he liked the variety of her inventive mind, with its +flashes of downright matter-of-factness.</p> +<p>Ascending the steps with his firm, regular tread, he suggested +poise and confidence and, perhaps, vanity also in his fastidious +dress. As Marta's slight, immature figure came to the edge of the +veranda, he wondered what she would be like five years later, when +she would be twenty-two and a woman. It was unlikely that he would +ever know, or that in a month he would care to know. He would pass +on; his rank would keep him from returning to South La Tir, which +was a colonel's billet except in time of war.</p> +<p>Not until tea was served did he mention his new assignment; he +was going to the general staff at the capital. Mrs. Galland +murmured her congratulations in conventional fashion.</p> +<p>"Into the very holy of holies of the great war machine, isn't +it?" Marta asked.</p> +<p>"Yes—yes, exactly!" he replied.</p> +<p>Her chair was drawn back from the table. She leaned forward in a +favorite position of hers when she was intensely interested, with +hands clasped over her knee, which her mother always found +aggravatingly tomboyish. She had a mass of lustrous black hair and +a mouth rather large in repose, but capable of changing curves of +emotion. Her large, dark eyes, luminously deep under long lashes, +if not the rest of her face, had beauty. Her head was bent, the +lashes forming a line with her brow now, and her eyes had the still +flame of wonder that they had when she was looking all around a +thing and through it to find what it meant. Westerling knew by the +signs that she was going to break out with one of her visions, +rather than one of her whimsical ideas. She was seeing the Roman +general, the baron, the first Galland, and the fat, pompous little +man, no less in the life than Hedworth Westerling. She had fused +them into one.</p> +<p>"Some day you will be chief of staff, the head of the Gray +army!" she suddenly exclaimed.</p> +<p>Westerling started as if he had been surprised in a secret. Then +he flushed slightly.</p> +<p>"Why?" he asked with forced carelessness. "Your reasons? They're +more interesting than your prophecy."</p> +<p>"Because you have the will to be," she said without emphasis, in +the impersonal revelations of thought. "You want power. You have +ambition."</p> +<p>He looked the picture of it, with his square jaw, his +well-moulded head set close to the shoulders on a sturdy neck, his +even teeth showing as his lips parted in an unconscious smile.</p> +<p>"Marta, Marta! She is—is so explosive," Mrs. Galland +remarked apologetically to the colonel.</p> +<p>"I asked for her reasons. I brought it on myself—and it is +not a bad compliment," he replied. Indeed, he had never received +one so thrilling.</p> +<p>His smile, a smile well pleased with itself, remained as Mrs. +Galland began to talk of other things, and its lingering +satisfaction disappeared only with Marta's cry at sight of the +speck in the sky over the Brown range. She was out on the lawn +before the others had risen from their seats.</p> +<p>"An aeroplane! Hurry!" she called.</p> +<p>This was a summons that aroused even Mrs. Galland's serenity to +haste. For the first time they were seeing the new wonder in all +the fascination of novelty to us moderns, who soon make our new +wonders commonplace and clamor impatiently for others.</p> +<p>"He flies! A man flies!" Marta exclaimed. "Look at +that—coming straight for your tower, baron! You'd better pull +up the drawbridge and go on your knees in the chapel, for devils +are abroad!"</p> +<p>How fast the speck grew! How it spread to the entranced vision! +It became a thing of still, soaring wings with a human atom in its +centre, Captain Arthur Lanstron, already called a fool for his +rashness by a group of Brown officers on the aviation grounds +beyond the Brown range.</p> +<p>Naturally, the business of war, watching for every invention +that might serve its ends, was the first patron of flight. +Lanstron, pupil of a pioneer aviator, had been warned by him and by +the chief of staff of the Browns, who was looking on, to keep in a +circle close to the ground. But he was doing so well that he +thought he would try rising a little higher. When the levers +responded with the ease of a bird's wings, temptation became +inspiration and inspiration urged on temptation. He had gone mad +with the ecstasy of his sensation, there between heaven and earth. +Five seconds of this was worth five thousand years of any other +form of life.</p> +<p>The summits of the range shot under him, unfolding a variegated +rug of landscape. He dipped the planes slightly, intending to +follow the range's descent and again they answered to his desire. +He saw himself the eyes of an army, the scout of the empyrean. If a +body of troops were to march along the pass road they would be as +visible as a cloud in the sky. Yes, here was revolution in +detecting the enemy's plans! He had become momentarily unconscious +of the swiftness of his progress, thanks to its hypnotic facility. +He was in the danger which too active a brain may bring to a +critical and delicate mechanical task. The tower loomed before him +as suddenly as if it had been shot up out of the earth. He must +turn, and quickly, to avoid disaster; he must turn, or he would be +across the white posts in the enemy's country.</p> +<p>"Oh, glorious magic!" cried Marta.</p> +<p>"A dozen good shots could readily bring it down," remarked +Westerling critically. "It makes a steady target at that angle of +approach. He's going to turn—but take care, there!"</p> +<p>"Oh!" groaned Marta and Mrs. Galland together.</p> +<p>In an agony of suspense they saw the fragile creation of cloth +and bamboo and metal, which had seemed as secure as an albatross +riding on the lap of a steady wind, dip far over, careen back in +the other direction, and then the whirring noise that had grown +with its flight ceased. It was no longer a thing of winged life, +defying the law of gravity, but a thing dead, falling under the +burden of a living weight.</p> +<p>"The engine has stopped!" exclaimed Westerling, any trace of +emotion in his observant imperturbability that of satisfaction that +the machine was the enemy's. He was thinking of the exhibition, not +of the man in the machine.</p> +<p>Marta was thinking of the man who was about to die, a silhouette +against the soft blue holding its own balance resolutely in the +face of peril. She could not watch any longer; she could not wait +on the catastrophe. She was living the part of the aviator more +vividly than he, with his hand and mind occupied. She rushed down +the terrace steps wildly, as if her going and her agonized prayer +could avert the inevitable. The plane, descending, skimmed the +garden wall and passed out of sight. She heard a thud, a crackling +of braces, a ripping of cloth, but no cry.</p> +<p>Westerling had started after her, exclaiming, "This is a case +for first aid!" while Mrs. Galland, taking the steps as fast as she +could, brought up the rear. Through the gateway in the garden wall +could be seen the shoulders of a young officer, a streak of red +coursing down his cheek, rising from the wreck. An inarticulate sob +of relief broke from Marta's throat, followed by quick gasps of +breath. Captain Arthur Lanstron was looking into the startled eyes +of a young girl that seemed to reflect his own emotions of the +moment after having shared those he had in the air.</p> +<p>"I flew! I flew clear over the range, at any rate!" he said. +"And I'm alive. I managed to hold her so she missed the wall and +made an easy bump."</p> +<p>Marta smiled in the reaction from terror at his idea of an easy +bump, while he was examining the damage to his person. He got one +foot free of the wreck and that leg was all right. She shared his +elation. Then he found that the other was uninjured, just as she +cried in distress:</p> +<p>"But your hand—oh, your hand!"</p> +<p>His left hand hung limp from the wrist, cut, mashed, and +bleeding. Its nerves numbed, he had not as yet felt any pain from +the injury. Now he regarded it in a kind of awakening stare of +realization of a deformity to come.</p> +<p>"Wool-gathering again!" he muttered to himself crossly.</p> +<p>Then, seeing that she had turned white, he thrust the disgusting +thing behind his back and twinged with the movement. The pain was +arriving.</p> +<p>"It must be bandaged! I have a handkerchief!" she begged. "I'm +not going to faint or anything like that!"</p> +<p>"Only bruised—and it's the left. I am glad it was not the +right," he replied. Westerling arrived and joined Marta in offers +of assistance just as they heard the prolonged honk of an +automobile demanding the right of way at top speed in the direction +of the pass.</p> +<p>"Thank you, but they're coming for me," said Lanstron to +Westerling as he glanced up the road.</p> +<p>Westerling was looking at the wreck. Lanstron, who recognized +him as an officer, though in mufti, kicked a bit of the torn cloth +over some apparatus to hide it. At this Westerling smiled faintly. +Then Lanstron saluted as officer to officer might salute across the +white posts, giving his name and receiving in return +Westeling's.</p> +<p>They made a contrast, these two men, the colonel of the Grays, +swart and sturdy, his physical vitality so evident, and the captain +of the Browns, some seven or eight years the junior, bareheaded, in +dishevelled fatigue uniform, his lips twitching, his slender body +quivering with the pain that he could not control, while his rather +bold forehead and delicate, sensitive features suggested a man of +nerve and nerves who might have left experiments in a laboratory +for an adventure in the air. There was a kind of challenge in their +glances; the challenge of an ancient feud of their peoples; of the +professional rivalry of polite duellists. Lanstron's slight figure +seemed to express the weaker number of the three million soldiers +of the Browns; Westerling's bulkier one, the four million five +hundred thousand of the Grays.</p> +<p>"You had a narrow squeak and you made a very snappy recovery at +the last second," said Westerling, passing a compliment across the +white posts. Marta could literally see a white post there between +the two.</p> +<p>"That's in the line of duty for you and me, isn't it?" Lanstron +replied, his voice thick with pain as he forced a smile.</p> +<p>There was no pose in his fortitude. He was evidently disgusted +with himself over the whole business, and he turned to the group of +three officers and a civilian who alighted from a big Brown army +automobile as if he were prepared to have them say their worst. +They seemed between the impulse of reprimanding and embracing +him.</p> +<p>"I hope that you are not surprised at the result," said the +oldest of the officers, a man of late middle age, rather +affectionately and teasingly. He wore a single order on his breast, +a plain iron cross, and the insignia of his rank was that of a +field-marshal.</p> +<p>"Not now. I should be again, sir," said Lanstron, looking full +at the field-marshal in the appeal of one asking for another +chance. "I was wool-gathering. My mind was off duty for a second +and I got a lesson in self-control at the expense of the machine. I +treated it worse than it deserved, and it treated me better than I +deserved. But I shall not wool-gather next time. I've got a +reminder more urgent than a string tied around my finger."</p> +<p>"Yes, that hand needs immediate attention," said the doctor. He +and another officer began helping Lanstron into the automobile.</p> +<p>"The first flight ever made over a range—even a low one! +Thirty miles straightaway!" remarked the civilian, making a cursory +examination of the wreck of the machine which was a pattern known +by his name.</p> +<p>"Very educational for our young man," said the field-marshal, +and at sight of Mrs. Galland paused while they exchanged the +greetings of old friends.</p> +<p>"Your Excellency, may we send back for you, sir?" called the +doctor. He was not one to let rank awe him when duty pressed. "This +hand ought to be at the hospital at once."</p> +<p>"I'm coming along. I've a train to catch," replied His +Excellency, springing into the car. "No more wool-gathering, eh?" +he said, giving Lanstron a pat on the shoulder. To Lanstron this +pat meant another chance.</p> +<p>"Good-by!" he called to the young girl, who was still watching +him with big, sympathetic eyes. "I am coming back soon and land in +the field, there, and when I do. I'll claim a bunch of +flowers."</p> +<p>"Do! What fun!" she cried, as the car started.</p> +<p>"The field-marshal was Partow, their chief of staff?" Westerling +asked.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Galland. "I remember when he was a young +infantry officer before the last war, before he had won the iron +cross and become so great. He was not of an army family—a +doctor's son, but very clever and skilful."</p> +<p>"Getting a little old for his work!" remarked Westerling. "But +apparently he is keen enough to take a personal interest in +anything new."</p> +<p>"Wasn't it thrilling and—and terrible!" Marta +exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Yes, like war at our own door again," replied Mrs. Galland, who +knew war. She had seen war raging on the pass road. "Lanstron, the +young man said his name was," she resumed after a pause. "No doubt +the Lanstrons of Thorbourg. An old family and many of them in the +army."</p> +<p>"The way he refused to give in—that was fine!" said +Marta.</p> +<p>Westerling, who had been engrossed in his own thoughts, looked +up.</p> +<p>"Courage is the cheapest thing an army has! You can get hundreds +of young officers who are glad to take a risk of that kind. The +thing is," and his fingers pressed in on the palm of his hand in a +pounding gesture of the forearm, "to direct and command—head +work—organization!"</p> +<p>"If war should come again—" Marta began. Mrs. Galland +nudged her. A Brown never mentioned war to an officer of the Grays; +it was not at all in the accepted proprieties. But Marta rushed on: +"So many would be engaged that it would be more horrible than +ever."</p> +<p>"You cannot make omelets without breaking eggs," Westerling +answered with suave finality.</p> +<p>"I wonder if the baron ever said that!" Marta recollected that +it was a favorite expression of the fat, pompous little man. "It +sounds like the baron, at all events."</p> +<p>Westerling did not mind being likened to the baron. It was a +corroboration of her prophecy. The baron must have been a great +leader of men in his time.</p> +<p>"The aeroplane will take its place as an auxiliary," he went on, +his mind still running on the theme of her prophecy, which the +meeting with Lanstron had quickened. "But war will, as ever, be won +by the bayonet that takes and holds a position. We shall have no +miracle victories, no—"</p> +<p>There he broke off. He did not accompany Mrs. Galland and Marta +back to the house, but made his adieus at the garden-gate.</p> +<p>"I'm sure that I shall never marry a soldier!" Marta burst out +as she and her mother were ascending the steps.</p> +<p>"No?" exclaimed Mrs. Galland with the rising inflection of a +placid scepticism that would not be drawn into an argument. Another +of Marta's explosions! It was not yet time to think of marriage for +her. If it had been Mrs. Galland would not have been so hospitable +to Colonel Westerling. She would hardly have been, even if the +colonel had been younger, say, of Captain Lanstron's age. Though an +officer was an officer, whether of the Browns or the Grays, and, +perforce, a gentleman to be received with the politeness of a +common caste, every beat of her heart was loyal to her race. Her +daughter's hand was not for any Gray. Young Lanstron certainly must +be of the Thorbourg Lanstrons, she mused. A most excellent family! +Of course, Marta would marry an officer. It was the natural destiny +of a Galland woman. Yet she was sometimes worried about Marta's +whimsies. She, too, could wonder what Marta would be like in five +years.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='II' id="II"></a> +<h2>II</h2> +<h3>TEN YEARS LATER</h3> +<br> +<p>Does any man of power know whither the tendencies of his time +are leading him, or the people whom he leads whither they are being +led? Had any one of these four heroes of the Grays in their heavy +gilt frames divined what kind of a to-morrow his day was preparing? +All knew the pass of La Tir well, and if all had not won decisive +battles they would have been hung in the outer office or even in +the corridors, where a line of half-forgotten or forgotten generals +crooked down the stairways into the oblivion of the basement. That +unfortunate one whom the first Galland had driven through the pass +was quite obscured in darkness. He would soon be crowded out to an +antique shop for sale as an example of the portrait art of his +period.</p> +<p>The privileged quartet on that Valhalla of victories, the walls +of the chief of staff's room, personified the military inheritance +of a great nation; their names shone in luminous letters out of the +thickening shadows of the past, where those of lesser men grew +dimmer as their generations receded into history. He in the steel +corselet, with high cheek-bones, ferret, cold eyes, and high, thin +nose, its nostrils drawn back in an aristocratic sniff—camps +were evil-smelling in those days—his casquette resting on his +arm, was the progenitor of him with the Louis XIV. curls; he of the +early nineteenth century, with a face like Marshal Ney's, was the +progenitor of him with the mustache and imperial of the +sixties.</p> +<p>It was whispered that the aristocratic sniff had taken to +fierce, no-quarter campaigns in the bitterness of a broken heart. +Did the Grays, then, really owe two of their fairest provinces to +the lady who had jilted him? Had they to thank the clever wife of +him of the Louis XIV. curls, whose intrigues won for her husband +command of the army, for another province? It was whispered, too, +that the military glory of him of the Marshal Ney physiognomy was +due to the good fortune of a senile field-marshal for an opponent. +But no matter. These gentlemen had seen the enemy fly. They had +won. Therefore, they were the supermen of sagas who incarnate a +people's valor.</p> +<p>The Browns gratified their own sense of superiority, in turn, by +admiration of the supermen who had vanquished the Gray generals +consigned to the oblivion of the basement. In their staff building, +the first Galland occupied a prominent position in the main hall; +while in the days of Marta's old baron heroes did not have their +portraits painted for want of painters, and the present nations had +consisted only of warring baronies and principalities.</p> +<p>They must have been rather lonely, these immortals in the Gray +Valhalla, as His Excellency the chief of staff was seldom in his +office. His Excellency had years, rank, prestige. The breast of his +uniform sagged with the weight of his decorations. He appeared for +the army at great functions, his picture was in the shop-windows. +Hedworth Westerling, the new vice-chief of staff, was content with +this arrangement. His years would not permit him the supreme honor. +This was for a figurehead, while he had the power.</p> +<p>His appointment to the staff ten years ago had given him the +fields he wanted, the capital itself, for the play of his +abilities. His vital energy, his impressive personality, his gift +for courting the influences that counted, whether man's or woman's, +his astute readiness in stooping to some measures that were in +keeping with the times but not with army precedent, had won for him +the goal of his ambition. He had passed over the heads of older +men, whom many thought his betters, rather ruthlessly. Those who +would serve loyally he drew around him; those who were bitter he +crowded out of his way.</p> +<p>The immortals would have been still more lonely, or at least +confused, in the adjoining room occupied by Westerling. There the +walls were hung with the silhouettes of infantrymen, such as you +see at man[oe]uvres, in different positions of firing, crouching in +shallow trenches, standing in deep trenches, or lying flat on the +stomach on level earth. Another silhouette, that of an infantryman +running, was peppered with white points in arms and legs and parts +of the body that were not vital, to show in how many places a man +may be hit with a small-calibre bullet and still survive.</p> +<p>The immortals had small armies. Even the mustache and imperial +had only three hundred thousand in the great battle of the last +war. In this day of universal European conscription, if Westerling +were to win it would be with five millions—five hundred +thousand more than when he faced a young Brown officer over the +wreck of an aeroplane—including the reserves; each man +running, firing, crouching, as was the figure on the wall, and +trying to give more of the white points that peppered the +silhouette than he received.</p> +<p>Now Turcas, the assistant vice-chief of staff, and Bouchard, +chief of the division of intelligence, standing on either side of +Westerling's desk, awaited his decisions on certain matters which +they had brought to his attention. Both were older than Westerling, +Turcas by ten and Bouchard by fifteen years.</p> +<p>Turcas had been strongly urged in inner army circles for the +place that Westerling had won, but his manner and his inability to +court influence were against him A lath of a man and stiff as a +lath, pale, with thin, tightly-drawn lips, quiet, steel-gray eyes, +a tracery of blue veins showing on his full temples, he suggested +the ascetic no less than the soldier, while his incisive brevity of +speech, flavored now and then with pungent humor, without any +inflection in his dry voice, was in keeping with his appearance. He +arrived with the clerks in the morning and frequently remained +after they were gone. His life was an affair of calculated units of +time; his habits of diet and exercise all regulated for the end of +service. His subordinates, whose respect he held by the power of +his intellect, said that his brain never tired and he had not +enough body to tire. He was one of the wheels of the great army +machine and loved the work for its own sake too well to be +embittered at being overshadowed by a younger man. As a master of +detail Westerling regarded him as an invaluable assistant, with +certain limitations, which were those of the pigeonhole and the +treadmill.</p> +<p>As for Bouchard, nature had meant him to be a wheel-horse. He +had never had any hope of being chief of staff. Hawk-eyed, with a +great beak nose and iron-gray hair, intensely and solemnly serious, +lacking a sense of humor, he would have looked at home with his +big, bony hands gripping a broadsword hilt and his lank body +clothed in chain armor. He had a mastiff's devotion to its master +for his chief.</p> +<p>"Since Lanstron became chief of intelligence of the Browns +information seems to have stopped," said Westerling, but not +complainingly. He appreciated Bouchard's loyalty.</p> +<p>"Yes, they say he even burns his laundry bills, he is so +careful," Bouchard replied.</p> +<p>"But that we ought to know," Westerling proceeded, referring +very insistently to a secret of the Browns which had baffled +Bouchard. "Try a woman," he went on with that terse, hard +directness which reflected one of his sides. "There is nobody like +a woman for that sort of thing. Spend enough to get the right +woman."</p> +<p>Turcas and Bouchard exchanged a glance, which rose suggestively +from the top of the head of the seated vice-chief of staff. Turcas +smiled slightly, while Bouchard was graven as usual.</p> +<p>"You could hardly reach Lanstron though you spent a queen's +ransom," said Bouchard in his literal fashion.</p> +<p>"I should say not!" Westerling exclaimed. "No doubt about +Lanstron's being all there! I saw him ten years ago after his first +aeroplane flight under conditions that proved it. However, he must +have susceptible subordinates."</p> +<p>"We'll set all the machinery we have to work to find one, sir," +Bouchard replied.</p> +<p>"Another thing, we may dismiss any idea that they are concealing +either artillery or dirigibles or planes that we do not know of," +continued Westerling. "That is a figment of our apprehensions. The +fact that we find no truth in the rumors proves that there is none. +Such things are too important to be concealed by one army from +another."</p> +<p>"Lanstron certainly cannot carry them in his pockets," remarked +Turcas. "Still, we must be sure," he added thoughtfully, more to +himself than to Westerling, who had already turned his attention to +a document which Turcas had laid on the desk.</p> +<p>"A recommendation by the surgeon-in-chief," said Turcas, "for a +new method of prompt segregation of ghastly cases among the +wounded. I have put it in the form of an order. If reserves coming +into action see men badly lacerated by shell fire it is bound to +make them self-conscious and affect morale."</p> +<p>"Yes," Westerling agreed. "If moving pictures of the horrors of +Port Arthur were to be shown in our barracks before a war, it would +hardly encourage martial enthusiasm. I shall look this over and +then have it issued. It will not be necessary to wait on action of +the staff in council."</p> +<p>Turcas and Bouchard exchanged another glance. They had fresh +evidence of Westerling's tendency to concentrate authority in +himself.</p> +<p>"The 128th Regiment has been ordered to South La Tir, but no +order yet given for the 132d, whose place it takes," Turcas went +on.</p> +<p>"Let it remain for the present!" Westerling replied.</p> +<p>After they had withdrawn, the look that passed between Turcas +and Bouchard was a pointed question. The 132d to remain at South La +Tir! Was there something more than "newspaper talk" in this latest +diplomatic crisis between the Grays and the Browns? Westerling +alone was in the confidence of the premier of late. Any exchange of +ideas between the two subordinates would be fruitless surmise and +against the very instinct of staff secrecy, where every man knew +only his work and asked about no one else's.</p> +<p>Westerling ran through the papers that Turcas had prepared for +him. If Turcas had written the order for the wounded, Westerling +knew that it was properly done. Having cleared his desk into the +hands of his executive clerk, he looked at the clock. It had barely +turned four. He picked up the final staff report of observations on +the late Balkan campaign, just printed in book form, glanced at it +and laid it aside. Already he knew the few lessons afforded by this +war "done on the cheap," with limited equipment and over bad roads. +No dirigibles had been used and few planes. It was no criterion, +except in the effect of the fire of the new pattern guns, for the +conflict of vast masses of highly trained men against vast masses +of highly trained men, with rapid transportation over good roads, +complete equipment, thorough organization, backed by generous +resources, in the cataclysm of two great European powers.</p> +<p>Rather idly, now, he drew a pad toward him and, taking up a +pencil, made the figures seventeen and twenty-seven. Then he made +the figures thirty-two and forty-two. He blackened them with +repeated tracings as he mused. This done, he put seventeen under +twenty-seven and thirty-two under forty-two. He made the +subtraction and studied the two tens.</p> +<p>A swing door opened softly and his executive clerk reappeared +with a soft tread, unheard by Westerling engaged in mechanically +blackening the tens. The clerk, pausing as he waited for a signal +of recognition, observed the process wonderingly. To be absently +making figures on a pad was not characteristic of the vice-chief of +staff. When he was absorbed his habit was to tap the desk edge with +the blunt end of his pencil.</p> +<p>"Some papers for your signature, sir," said the clerk as he +slipped them on the blotter in front of Westerling. "And the +132d—no order about that, sir?" he asked.</p> +<p>"None. It remains!" Westerling replied.</p> +<p>The clerk went out impressed. His chief taking to sums of +subtraction and totally preoccupied! The 132d to remain! He, too, +had a question-mark in his secret mind.</p> +<p>Westerling proceeded with his mathematics. Having heavily shaded +the tens, he essayed a sum in division. He found that ten went into +seventy just seven times.</p> +<p>"One-seventh the allotted span of life!" he mused. "Take off +fifteen years for youth and fifteen after fifty-five—nobody +counts after that, though I mean to—and you have ten into +forty, which is one fourth. That is a good deal. But it's more to a +woman than to a man—yes, a lot more to a woman than to a +man!"</p> +<p>The clerk was right in thinking Westerling preoccupied; but it +was not with the international crisis. He had dismissed that for +the present from his thoughts by sending the 128th Regiment to +South La Tir. He might move some other regiments in the morning if +advices from the premier warranted. At all events, the army was +ready, always ready for any emergency. He was used to international +crises. Probably a dozen had occurred in the ten years since he had +spoken his adieu to a young girl at a garden-gate. Over his coffee +the name of Miss Marta Galland, in a list of arrivals at a hotel, +had caught his eye in the morning paper. A note to her had brought +an answer, saying that her time was limited, but she would be glad +to have him call at five that afternoon.</p> +<p>Rather impatiently he watched the slow minute-hand on the clock. +He had risen from his desk at four-thirty, when his personal aide, +a handsome, boyish, rosy-cheeked young officer, who seemed to be +moulded into his uniform, appeared.</p> +<p>"Your car is waiting, sir," he said. His military correctness +could not hide the admiration and devotion in his eyes. He thought +himself the most fortunate lieutenant in the army. To him +Westerling was, indeed, great. Westerling realized this.</p> +<p>"This is a personal call," Westerling explained; "so you are at +liberty to make one yourself, if you like," he added, with that +magnetic smile of a genial power which he used to draw men to him +and hold them.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='III' id="III"></a> +<h2>III</h2> +<h3>OURS AND THEIRS</h3> +<br> +<p>On the second terrace, Feller, the Gallands' gardener, a patch +of blue blouse and a patch of broad-brimmed straw hat over a fringe +of white hair, was planting bulbs. Mrs. Galland came down the path +from the veranda loiteringly, pausing to look at the flowers and +again at the sweep of hills and plain. The air was singularly +still, so still that she heard the cries of the children at play in +the yards of the factory-workers' houses which had been steadily +creeping up the hill from the town. She breathed in the peace and +beauty of the surroundings with that deliberate appreciation of age +which holds to the happiness in hand. To-morrow it might rain; +to-day it is pleasant. She was getting old. Serenely she made the +most of to-day.</p> +<p>The gardener did not look up when she reached his side. She +watched his fingers firmly pressing the moist earth around the +bulbs that he had sunk in their new beds. There were only three +more to set out, and her inclination, in keeping with her +leisureliness, was to wait on the completion of his task before +speaking. Again she let her glance wander away to the distances. It +was arrested and held this time by two groups of far-away points in +the sky along the frontier, in the same bright light of that other +afternoon when Captain Arthur Lanstron had made his first night +over the range.</p> +<p>"Look!" she cried. "Look, look!" she repeated, a girlish +excitement rippling her placidity.</p> +<p>Aeroplanes and dirigibles had become a familiar sight. They were +always going and coming and man[oe]uvring, the Browns over their +territory and the Grays over theirs. But here was something new: +two squadrons of dirigibles and planes in company, one on either +side of the white posts. For the fraction of a second the +dirigibles seemed prisms and the planes still-winged dragon-flies +hung on a blue wall. With the next fraction the prisms were seen to +be growing and the stretch of the plane wings broadening.</p> +<p>"They are racing—ours against theirs!" exclaimed Mrs. +Galland. "Look, look!"</p> +<p>Still the gardener bent to his work, unconcerned.</p> +<p>"I forgot! I always forget that you are deaf!" she murmured.</p> +<p>She touched his shoulder. The effect was magical on the +stoop-shouldered figure, which rose with the spring of muscles that +are elastic and joints that are limber. His hat was removed with +prompt and rather graceful deference, revealing eyebrows that were +still dark in contrast to the white hair. For only an instant did +he remain erect, but long enough to suggest how supple and +well-formed he must have been in youth. Then he made a grimace and +dropped his hand demonstratively over his knee.</p> +<p>"Pardon, Mrs. Galland, I have old bones. They always remind me +if I try to play any youthful tricks on them. Pardon! I did not see +that you were here. I," he said, in the monotonous voice of the +deaf, which, however, had a certain attractive +wistfulness—"I—" and from the same throat as he saw the +object of her gaze came a vibration of passionate interest. "Yes, +neck and neck! Coming right for the baron's tower, neck and neck!" +he cried, in the zest of a contest understood and enjoyed.</p> +<p>His hand rose in a vigorous, pulsating gesture; his eyes were +snapping; his lips parted in an ecstasy that made him seem twenty +years younger; his shoulders broadened and his chest expanded with +the indrawing of a deep breath. This let go, the stoop returned in +a sudden reaction, the briefly kindled flame died out of his eyes, +his lips took on the droop of age, and he thrust his hat back on +his head, pulling the brim low over his brow.</p> +<p>"Wonderful, but terrible—terrible!" said Mrs. Galland. +"Another horror is added to war, as if there were not already +enough. Oh, I know what war is! I've seen this garden all spattered +with blood and dead bodies in a row here at our feet, and heard the +groans and the cheers—the groans of the wounded here in the +garden and the cheers of the men who had taken the castle +hill!"</p> +<p>Feller, with the lids of shaded eyes half closed, watched the +oncoming squadrons in a staring mesmerism. His only movement was a +tattoo of the fingers on his trousers' legs.</p> +<p>"War!" he exclaimed with motionless lips. "War!" he repeated +softly, coaxingly. One would easily have mistaken the thought of +war as something delightful to him if he had not appeared so gentle +and detached. It seemed doubtful if he realized what he was saying +or even that he was speaking aloud.</p> +<p>As the Gray squadron started to turn in order to keep on their +side of the white posts which circled around the spur of La Tir, +one of the dirigibles failed to respond to its rudder and lost +speed; that in the rear, responding too readily, had its leader on +the thwart. An aeroplane, sheering too abruptly to make room, +tipped at a dangerous angle and a tragedy seemed due within another +wink of the eye.</p> +<p>"Huh-huh-huh!" came from Feller in quick breaths, like the +panting of a dog on a hot day.</p> +<p>"Oh!" gasped Mrs. Galland in one long breath of suspense.</p> +<p>The envelope of the second dirigible grazed the envelope of its +leader; the groggy plane righted itself and volplaned underneath a +dirigible; and, though scattered, the Gray squadron drew away +safely from the Brown, which, slowing down, came on as straight as +an arrow in unchanged formation in a line over the castle tower. +From the forward Brown aeroplane, as its shadow shot over the +garden, pursued by the great, oblong shadows of the dirigibles, a +white ball was dropped. It made a plummet streak until about fifty +feet above the earth, when it exploded into a fine shower of +powder, leaving intact a pirouetting bit of white.</p> +<p>"I think that was Colonel Lanstron leading when he ought to +leave such work to his assistants," said Mrs. Galland. "You +remember him—why, it was the colonel who recommended you! +There, now, I've forgotten again that you are deaf!"</p> +<p>The slip of paper glided back and forth on slight currents of +air and finally fell among the rose-bushes a few yards from where +the two were standing. Feller brought it to Mrs. Galland.</p> +<p>"Yes, it was Colonel Lanstron," she said, after reading the +message. "The message says: 'Hello, Marta!' Any other officer would +have said: 'How do you do, Miss Galland!' He could not have known +that she was away. I've just had a telegram from her that she will +be home in the morning, and that takes me back to my idea that I +came to speak about to you," she babbled on, while Feller regarded +her with a gentle, uncomprehending smile. "You know how she likes +chrysanthemums and they are in full bloom. We'll cut them and fill +all the vases in the living-room and her room and—oh, how I +do forget! You're not hearing a word!" she exclaimed as she noted +the helpless eagerness of his eyes.</p> +<p>"It is a great nuisance, deafness in a gardener. But I love my +work. I try to do it well," he said in his monotone.</p> +<p>"You do wonderfully, wonderfully!" she assented; "and you +deserve great credit. Many deaf people are irritable—and you +are so cheerful!"</p> +<p>He smiled as pleasantly as if he had heard the compliment and +passed her a small pad from his blouse pocket. With the pencil +attached to it by a string she wrote her instructions slowly, in an +old-fashioned hand, dotting all the i's and crossing all the +t's.</p> +<p>"Pardon me, madam, but Miss Galland"—he paused, dwelling +with a slight inflection on his mention of the daughter as the +talisman that warranted his presuming to disagree with the +mother—"Miss Galland, when she took her last look around +before going, said: 'Please don't cut any yet. I want to see them +all abloom in their beds first.'"</p> +<p>"She has taken such an interest in them, and my idea was to +please her. Of course, leave them," said Mrs. Galland. She made +repeated vigorous nods of assent to save herself the trouble of +writing. Starting back up the steps, she murmured: "I suppose cut +flowers are out of fashion—I know I am—and deaf +gardeners are in." She sighed. "And you are twenty-seven, Marta, +twenty-seven!" She drew another, a very long sigh, and then her +serenity returned.</p> +<p>"Ours did not pass theirs," observed the gardener, with a musing +smile when he was alone; "but theirs nearly had a jolly spill there +at the turn!"</p> +<p>As he bent once more to his work a bumblebee approached on its +glad, piratical errand from flower to flower in the rapt stillness, +and Feller looked around with a slight courtesy of his hat +brim.</p> +<p>"You and your fussily thunderous wings!" he said, half aloud. "I +wonder if you think you're an aeroplane. Surely, they'd never train +you to evolute in squadrons. You are an anarchist, you are, and an +epicurean into the bargain!"</p> +<p>He went with his barrow for more bulbs. Meanwhile, the sun sank +behind the range. The plain lay bathed in soft, golden light; the +ravines were tongues of black shadow. As the evening gun boomed out +from a fortress on the Brown side of the frontier, Feller glanced +around to see if any one were watching. Assured that he was alone, +he removed his hat, and, though he wiped the brim and wiped his +brow, in his attitude was the suggestion of the military stance of +attention at colors. A minute later, when the evening gun of the +Grays across the white posts reverberated over the plain, he jammed +his hat back on his head rather abruptly and started to the tool +house with his barrow.</p> +<p>"War! war!" he repeated softly. "Yes, war!" he added in eager +desire.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='IV' id="IV"></a> +<h2>IV</h2> +<h3>THE DIVIDENDS OF POWER</h3> +<br> +<p>Westerling realized that the question of marriage as a social +requirement might arise when he should become officially chief of +staff with the retirement of His Excellency the field-marshal. For +the present he enjoyed his position as a bachelor who was the most +favored man in the army too much to think of marriage. This did not +imply an absence of fondness for women; rather the contrary. He +liked sitting next to a beautiful neck and shoulders and having a +pair of feminine eyes sparkle into his at dinner; though, with rare +exceptions, not the same neck and shoulders on succeeding nights. +His natural sense of organization divided women into two classes: +those of family and wealth, whom he met at great houses, and those +purring kittens who live in small flats. Both afforded him +diversion. A woman had been the most telling influence in making +him vice-chief of staff; an affair to which gossip gave the breath +of scandal had been an argument against him.</p> +<p>It was a little surprising that the bell that the girl of +seventeen had rung in his secret mind when he was on one of the +first rounds of the ladder, now lost in the mists of a lower +stratum of existence, should ever tinkle again.... Yet he had heard +its note in the tone of her prophecy with each step in his +promotion; and while the other people whom he had known at La Tir +were the vaguest shadows of personalities, her picture was as +definite in detail as when she said: "You have the will! You have +the ambition!" She had recognized in him the power that he felt; +foreseen his ascent to the very apex of the pyramid. She was still +unmarried, which was strange; for she had not been bad-looking and +she was of a fine old family. What was she like now? Commonplace +and provincial, most likely. Many of the people he had known in his +early days appeared so when he met them again. But, at the worst, +he looked for an interesting half-hour.</p> +<p>The throbbing activity of the streets of the capital, as his car +proceeded on the way to her hotel, formed an energetic +accompaniment to his gratifying backward survey of how all his +plans had worked out from the very day of the prophecy. Had he +heard the remark of a great manufacturer to the banker at his side +in a passing limousine, "There goes the greatest captain of +industry of us all!" Westerling would only have thought: +"Certainly. I am chief of staff. I am at the head of all your +workmen at one time or another!" Had he heard the banker's answer, +"But pretty poor pay, pretty small dividends!" he would have +thought: "Splendid dividends—the dividends of power!"</p> +<p>He had a caste contempt for the men of commerce, with their +mercenary talk about credit and market prices; and also for the +scientists, doctors, engineers, and men of other professions, who +spoke of things in books which he did not understand. Reading books +was one of the faults of Turcas, his assistant. No bookish soldier, +he knew, had ever been a great general. He resented the growing +power of these leaders of the civil world, taking distinction away +from the military, even when, as a man of parts, he had to court +their influence. His was the profession that was and ever should be +the elect. A penniless subaltern was a gentleman, while he could +never think of a man hi business as one.</p> +<p>All the faces in the street belonged to a strange, busy world +outside his interest and thoughts. They formed what was known as +the public, often making a clatter About things which they did not +understand, when they Should obey the orders of their superiors. Of +late, their clatter had been about the extra taxes for the recent +increase of the standing forces by another corps. The public was +bovine with a parrot's head. Yet it did not admire the toiling ox, +but the eagle and the lion.</p> +<p>As his car came to the park his eyes lighted at sight of one of +the dividends—one feature of urban life that ever gave him a +thrill. A battalion of the 128th, which he had ordered that +afternoon to the very garrison at South La Tir that he had once +commanded, was marching through the main avenue. Youths all, of +twenty-one or two, they were in a muddy-grayish uniform which was +the color of the plain as seen from the veranda of the Galland +house.</p> +<p>Around them, in a mighty, pervasive monotone, was the roar of +city traffic, broken by the nearer sounds of the cries of children +playing in the sand piles, the bark of motor horns, the screech of +small boys' velocipedes on the paths of the park; while they +themselves were silent, except for the rhythmic tramp of the +military shoes of identical pattern, as was every article of their +clothing and equipment from head to foot, whose character had been +the subject of the weightiest deliberation of the staff.</p> +<p>How much can a soldier carry and how best carry it easily? What +shoes are the most serviceable for marching and yet cheap? Nothing +was so precise in all their surroundings, nothing seemed so +resolutely dependable as this column of soldiers. They were the +last word in filling human tissue into a mould for a set task. +Where these came from were other boys growing up to take their +places. The mothers of the nation were doing their duty. All the +land was a breeding-ground for the dividends of Hedworth +Westerling.</p> +<p>At the far side of the park he saw another kind of +dividend—another group of marching men. These were not in +uniform. They were the unemployed. Many were middle-aged, with +worn, tired faces. Beside the flag of the country at the head of +the procession was that of universal radicalism. And his car had to +stop to let them pass. For an instant the indignation of military +autocracy rose strong within him at sight of the national colors in +such company. But he noted how naturally the men kept step; the +solidarity of their movement. The stamp of their army service in +youth could not be easily removed. He realized the advantage of +heading an army in which defence was not dependent on a mixture of +regulars and volunteers, but on universal conscription that brought +every able-bodied man under discipline.</p> +<p>These reservists, in the event of war, would hear the call of +race and they would fight for the one flag that then had any +significance. Yes, the old human impulses would predominate and the +only enemy would be on the other side of the frontier. They would +be pawns of his will—the will that Marta Galland had said +would make him chief of staff.</p> +<p>Wasn't war the real cure for the general unrest? Wasn't the +nation growing stale from the long peace? He was ready for war now +that he had become vice-chief, when the retirement of His +Excellency, unable to bear the weight of his years and decorations +in the field, would make him the supreme commander. One ambition +gained, he heard the appeal of another: to live to see the guns and +rifles that had fired only blank cartridges in practice pouring out +shells and bullets, and all the battalions that had played at sham +war in man[oe]uvres engaged in real war, under his direction. He +saw his columns sweeping up the slopes of the Brown range. Victory +was certain. He would be the first to lead a great modern army +against a great modern army; his place as the master of modern +tactics secure in the minds of all the soldiers of the world. The +public would forget its unrest in the thrill of battles won and +provinces conquered, and its clatter would be that of acclaim for a +new idol of its old faith.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='V' id="V"></a> +<h2>V</h2> +<h3>OFF TO THE FRONTIER</h3> +<br> +<p>Ranks broken in the barracks yard, backs free of packs, +shoulders free of rifles, the men of the first battalion of the +28th, which Westerling had seen marching through the park, had no +thought except the prospect of the joyous lassitude of resting +muscles and of loosening tongues that had been silent on the march. +They were simply tired human beings in the democracy of a common +life and service.</p> +<p>The 128th had been recruited from a province in the high country +distant from the capital. In the days of Maria's old baron, a baron +of the same type had plundered their ancestors, and in the days of +the first Galland they formed a principality frequently at war with +their neighbors of the same blood and language. At length they had +united with their neighbors who had in turn united with other +neighbors, forming the present nation of the Grays, which vented +its fighting spirit against other nations. Each generation must +send forth its valorous and adventurous youth to the proof of its +manhood in battle, while those who survived wounds and disease +became the heroes of their reminiscences, inciting the younger +generation to emulation. With each step in the evolution learning +had spread and civilization developed.</p> +<p>Since the last war universal conscription had gone hand in hand +with popular education and the telegraphic click of the news of the +world to all breakfast tables and cheap travel and better living. +Every private of the five millions was a scholar compared to the +old baron; he had a broader horizon than the first Galland. In the +name of defence, to hold their borders secure, the great powers +were straining their resources to strengthen the forces that kept +an armed peace. Evolution never ceases. What next?</p> +<p>In a group of the members of Company B, who dropped on a bench +in the barrack room, were the sons of a farmer, a barber, a +butcher, an army officer, a day-laborer, a judge, a blacksmith, a +rich man's valet, a banker, a doctor, a manufacturer, and a small +shopkeeper.</p> +<p>"Six months more and my tour is up!" cried the judge's son.</p> +<p>"Six months more for me!"</p> +<p>"Now you're counting!"</p> +<p>"And for me—one, two, three, four, five, six!"</p> +<p>"Oh, don't rub it in," the manufacturer's son shouted above the +chorus, "you old fellows! I've a year and six months more."</p> +<p>"Here, too!" chimed in the banker's son. "A year and six months +more of iron spoons and tin cups and army shoes and army fare and +early rising. Hep-hep-hep, drill-drill-drill, and drudgery!"</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't know!" said the day-laborer's son. "I don't have to +get up any earlier than I do at home, and I don't have to work as +hard as I'll have to when I leave."</p> +<p>"Nor I!" agreed the blacksmith's son. "It's a kind of holiday +for me."</p> +<p>"Holiday!" the banker's son gasped. "That's so," he added +thoughtfully, and smiled gratefully over a fate that had been +indulgent to him in a matter of fathers and limousines.</p> +<p>"Look at the newspapers! Maybe we shall be going to war," said +the manufacturer's son.</p> +<p>"Stuff! Nonsense!" said the judge's son. "We are always having +scares. They sell papers and give the fellows at the Foreign Office +a chance to look unconcerned. But let's have the opinion of an +international expert, of the great and only philosopher, guide, +companion, and friend. What do you think of the crisis, eh, Hugo? +Soberly, now. The fate of nations may hang on your words. If not, +at least the price of a ginger soda!"</p> +<p>It was around Hugo Mallin that the group had formed. Groups were +always forming around Hugo. He could spring the unexpected and +incongruous and make people laugh. Slight but wiry of physique, he +had light hair, a freckled and rather nondescript nose, large brown +eyes, and a broad, sensitive mouth. Nature had not attempted any +regularity of features in his case. She had been content with +making each one a mobile servant of his mind. In repose his face +was homely, and it was a mask.</p> +<p>"Come on, Hugo! Out with it!"</p> +<p>Hugo's brow contracted; the lines of the mask were drawn in +deliberate seriousness.</p> +<p>"I never hear war mentioned that I don't have a shiver right +down my spine, as I did when I was a little boy and went into the +cellar without a light," he replied.</p> +<p>"Fear?" exclaimed Eugene Aronson, the farmer's son, whose big, +plain face expressed dumb incomprehension. He alone was standing. +Being the giant and the athlete of the company, the march had not +tired him.</p> +<p>"Fear?" some of the others repeated. The sentiment was +astounding, and Hugo was as manifestly in earnest as if he were a +minister addressing a parliamentary chamber.</p> +<p>"Yes, don't you?" asked Hugo, in bland surprise.</p> +<p>"I should say not!" declared Eugene.</p> +<p>"Do you want to be killed?" asked Hugo, with profound +interest.</p> +<p>"The bullet isn't made that will get me!" answered Eugene, +throwing back his broad shoulders.</p> +<p>"I don't know," mused Hugo, eying the giant up and down. "You're +pretty big, Gene, and a bullet that only nicked one of us in the +bark might get you in the wood. However, if you are sure that you +are in no danger, why, you don't count. But let's take a census +while we are about it and see who wants to be killed. First, you, +Armand; do you?" he asked the doctor's son, Armand Daution.</p> +<p>Armand grinned. The others grinned, not at him, but at the +quizzical solemnity of Hugo's manner.</p> +<p>"If so, state whether you prefer bullets or shrapnel, early in +the campaign or late, à la carte or table d'hôte, +morning or—" Hugo went on.</p> +<p>But laughter drowned the sentence, though Hugo's face was +without a smile.</p> +<p>"You ought to go on the stage!" some one exclaimed.</p> +<p>"If it were as easy to amuse a pay audience as you fellows, I +might," Hugo replied. "But I've another question," he pursued. "Do +you think that the fellows on the other side of the frontier want +to be killed?"</p> +<p>"No danger! They'll give in. They always do," said Eugene.</p> +<p>"I confess that it hardly seems reasonable to make war over the +Bodlapoo affair!" This from the judge's son.</p> +<p>"Over some hot weather, some swamp, and some black policemen in +Africa," said Hugo.</p> +<p>"But they hauled down our flag!" exclaimed the army officer's +son.</p> +<p>"On their territory, they say. We were the aggressors," Hugo +interposed.</p> +<p>"It was <i>our</i> flag!" said Eugene.</p> +<p>"But we wouldn't want them to put up their flag on our +territory, would we?" Hugo asked.</p> +<p>"Let them try it!" thundered Eugene, with a full breath from the +big bellows in his broad chest. "Hugo, I don't like to hear you +talk that way," he added, shaking his head sadly. Such views from a +friend really hurt him; indeed, he was almost lugubrious. This +brought another laugh.</p> +<p>"Don't you see he's getting you, Gene?"</p> +<p>"He's acting!"</p> +<p>"He always gets you, you old simpleton!" The judge's son gave +Eugene an affectionate dig in the ribs.</p> +<p>Eugene was well liked and in the way that a big Saint Bernard +dog is liked. At the latest man[oe]uvres, on the night that their +division had made a rapid flank movement, without any apparent +sense that his own load was the heavier for it, he had carried the +rifle and pack of Peter Kinderling, a valet's pasty-faced little +son "Peterkin," as he was called, was the stupid of Company B. +Being generally inoffensive, the butt of the drill sergeant, who +thought that he would never learn even the manual of arms, and +rounding out the variety of characters which makes for fellowship, +he was regarded with a sympathetic kindliness by his comrades.</p> +<p>"But I don't think you ought to joke about the flag That's +sacred!" declared Eugene.</p> +<p>"Now you're talking!" said Jacob Pilzer, the butcher's son, who +sat on the other side of the bench from Eugene. He was heavily +built, with an undershot jaw and a patch of liverish birthmark on +his cheek.</p> +<p>"Yes," piped Peterkin, who had an opinion when the two strong +men of the company agreed on any subject. But he spoke tentatively, +nevertheless. He was taking no risks.</p> +<p>"Oh, if we went to war the Bodlapoo affair would be only an +excuse," said the manufacturer's son. "We shall go to war as a +matter of broad national policy."</p> +<p>"Right you are!" agreed the banker's son. "No emotion about it. +Emotion as an international quantity is dead. Everything is +business now in this business age."</p> +<p>"Killing people as a broad international policy!" mused Hugo +<i>sotto voce</i>, as if this were a matter of his own +thoughts.</p> +<p>The others scarcely heard him as the manufacturer's son struck +his fist in the palm of his hand resoundingly to demand +attention.</p> +<p>"We need room in which to expand. We have eighty million people +to their fifty, while our territory is only a little larger than +theirs. Our population grows; the Browns' does not!" he +announced.</p> +<p>"But there is a remedy for that," Hugo interjected loftly, so +softly that everybody looked at him. "Why, all the conscripts of +the army for two years could take a vow not to marry," he said. "We +could reduce the output, as your father's factory does when the +market is dull. We should not have so many babies. This would be +cheaper than rearing them to be slaughtered in their young +manhood."</p> +<p>"Hear ye! Hear ye!" shouted the doctor's son, in the midst of +the hilarity that ensued. "Hugo Mallin solves the whole problem of +eugenics by destroying the field for eugenics!"</p> +<p>"The levity of a lot of mere unthinking privates who mistake +themselves for sociological experts shall not deter me from +finishing my speech," pursued the manufacturer's son.</p> +<p>"Speak on!"</p> +<p>"Listen to the fount of wisdom play!"</p> +<p>"A beer if you produce an idea!"</p> +<p>"War must come some day. It must come if for no other reason +than to stop the strikes, arouse patriotism, and give an impetus to +industry. An army of five millions on our side against the Browns' +three millions! Of course, they won't start it! We shall have to +take the aggressive; naturally, they'll not."</p> +<p>"And they'll run, they'll run, just as they always have" Eugene +cried enthusiastically.</p> +<p>"You bet they will, or they'll be mush for our bayonets!" said +Pilzer, the butcher's son.</p> +<p>"Will they? Do you really think they will?" asked Hugo, drawing +down the corners of his mouth in profound contemplation that was +actually mournful. "I wonder, now, I wonder if they can run any +faster than I can?"</p> +<p>Everybody was laughing except him. If he had laughed too, he +would not have been funny. His faint, look of surprise over their +outburst only served to prolong it.</p> +<p>"Hugo, you're immense!"</p> +<p>"You're a scream!"</p> +<p>"But I am considering," Hugo resumed, when there was silence. +"If both sides ran as fast as they could when the war began, it +would be interesting to see which army reached home first. Some of +us might get out of breath, but nobody would be killed." He had to +wait on another laugh before he could continue. It takes little to +amuse men in garrison if one knows how. "I don't want to be killed, +and why should I want to kill strangers on the other side of the +frontier?" He paused on the rising inflection of his question, a +calm, earnest challenge in his eyes. "I don't know them. I haven't +the slightest grudge against them."</p> +<p>No grudge against the Browns—against the ancient enemy! +The faces around were frowning, as if in doubt how to take him.</p> +<p>"What did you come into the army for, then?" called Pilzer, the +butcher's son. "You didn't have to, being an only son. Talk that +stuff to your officers! They will let you out. They don't want any +cowards like you!"</p> +<p>"Cowards! Hold on, there!" said Eugene, who was very fond of +Hugo. He spoke in the even voice of his vast good nature, but he +looked meaningly at the butcher's son.</p> +<p>"Coward? Is that the word, Jake?" Hugo inquired amiably. "Now, +maybe I am. I don't know. But it wouldn't prove that I wasn't if I +fought you any more than if I fought the strangers on the other +side of the frontier."</p> +<p>"Well, if you don't want to fight, what are you in the army for? +That's a fair question, isn't it?" growled Pilzer, in an appeal to +public opinion.</p> +<p>"Yes, you can carry a joke too far," said the army officer's +son. "Yes, why?"</p> +<p>The others nodded. An atmosphere of hostility was gathering +around Hugo. In face of it a smile began playing about the corners +of his lips. The smile spread. For the first time he was laughing, +while all the others were serious. Suddenly he threw his arms +around the necks of the men next to him.</p> +<p>"Why, to be with all you good fellows, of course!" he said, "and +to complete my education. If I hadn't taken my period in the army, +you might have shaved me, Eduardo; you might have fixed a horseshoe +for me, Henry; you might have sold me turnips, Eugene, but I +shouldn't have known you. Now we all know one another by eating the +same food, wearing the same clothes, marching side by side, and +submitting to another kind of discipline than that of our +officers—the discipline of close association in a community +of service. There's hope for humanity in that—for humanity +trying to free itself of its fetters. We have mixed with the people +of the capital. They have found us and we have found them to be of +the same human family."</p> +<p>"That's so! This business of moving regiments about from one +garrison to another is a good cure for provincialism," said the +doctor's son.</p> +<p>"Judge's son or banker's son or blacksmith's son, whenever we +meet in after-life there will be a thought of fellowship exchanged +in our glances," Hugo continued. "Haven't we got something that we +couldn't get otherwise? Doesn't it thrill you now when we're all +tired from the march except leviathan Gene—thrill you with a +warm glow from the flow of good, rich, healthy red blood?"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, yes!"</p> +<p>There was a chorus of assent. Banker's son clapped valet's son +on the shoulder; laborer's son and doctor's son locked arms and +teetered on the edge of the cot together.</p> +<p>"And I've another idea," proceeded Hugo very seriously as the +vows of eternal friendship subsided. "It is one to spread education +and the spirit of comradeship still further. Instead of two sets of +autumn man[oe]uvres, one on either side of the frontier, I'd have +our army and the Browns hold a man[oe]uvre together—this year +on their side and next year on ours."</p> +<p>The biggest roar yet rose from throats that had been venting a +tender tone. Only the slow Eugene Aronson was blank and puzzled. +But directly he, too, broke into laughter, louder and more +prolonged than the others.</p> +<p>"You can be so solemn that it takes a minute to see your joke," +he said.</p> +<p>"And humorous when we expect him to be solemn—and, presto, +there he goes!" added the judge's son.</p> +<p>Hugo's lips were twitching peculiarly.</p> +<p>"Look at him!" exclaimed the manufacturer's son. "Oh, you've had +us all going this afternoon, you old farceur, you, Hugo!"</p> +<p>In the silence that waited on another extravagance from the +entertainer the sergeant entered the room.</p> +<p>"We shall entrain to-morrow morning!" he announced. "We are +going to South La Tir on the frontier."</p> +<p>Oh, joy! Oh, lucky 128th! It was to see still more of the world! +The sergeant stood by listening to the uproar and cautioning the +men not to overturn the tables and benches. Even the banker's and +the manufacturer's sons, who had toured the country from frontier +to frontier in paternal automobiles, were as happy as the laborer's +son.</p> +<p>"What fun it would be if we could visit back and forth with the +fellows on the other side of the frontier!" said Hugo.</p> +<p>"What the—eh!" exclaimed the sergeant. "Will you never +stop your joking, you, Hugo Mallin?"</p> +<p>"Never, sir," replied Hugo dryly. "It comes natural to me!"</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='VI' id="VI"></a> +<h2>VI</h2> +<h3>THE SECOND PROPHECY</h3> +<br> +<p>In the reception-room, where he awaited the despatch of his +card, Hedworth Westerling caught a glimpse of his person in a panel +glass so convenient as to suggest that an adroit hotel manager +might have placed it there for the delectation of well-preserved +men of forty-two. He saw a face of health that was little lined; +brown hair that did not reveal its sprinkle of gray at that +distance; shoulders, bearing the gracefully draped gold cords of +the staff, squarely set on a rigid spine in his natural attitude. +Yes, he had taken good care of himself, enjoying his pleasures with +discreet, epicurean relish as he would this meeting with a woman +whom he had not seen for ten years.</p> +<p>On her part, Marta, when she had received the note, had been in +doubt as to her answer. Her curiosity to see him again was not of +itself compelling. The actual making of the prophecy was rather dim +to her mind until he recalled it. She had heard of his rise and she +had heard, too, things about him which a girl of twenty-seven can +better understand than a girl of seventeen. His reason for wanting +to see her he had said was to "renew an old acquaintance." He could +have little interest in her, and her interest in him was that he +was head of the Gray army. His work had intimate relation to that +which the Marta of twenty-seven, a Marta with a mission, had set +for herself.</p> +<p>A page came to tell Westerling that Miss Galland should be down +directly. But before she came a waiter entered with a tea-tray.</p> +<p>"By the lady's direction, sir," he explained as he set the tray +on a table opposite Westerling.</p> +<p>Across a tea-table the prophecy had been made and across a +tea-table they had held most of their talks. Having a picture in +memory for comparison, he was seeing the doorway as the frame for a +second picture. When she appeared the picture seemed the same as of +old. There was an undeniable delight in this first impression of +externals. There had been no promise that she would be beautiful, +and she was not. There had been promise of distinction, and she +seemed to have fulfilled it. For a second she paused on the +threshold rather diffidently. Then she smiled as she had when she +greeted him from the veranda as he came up the terrace steps. She +crossed the room with a flowing, spontaneous vitality that appealed +to him as something familiar.</p> +<p>"Ten years, isn't it?" she exclaimed, putting a genuine quality +of personal interest into the words as she gave his hand a quick, +firm shake. Then, with the informality of old acquaintances who had +parted only yesterday, she indicated a place on the sofa for him, +while she seated herself on the other side of the tea-table. "The +terrace there in the foreground," she said with conforming gestures +of location, "the church steeple over the town, the upward sweep of +the mountains, and there the plain melting into the horizon. And, +let me see, you took two lumps, if I remember?"</p> +<p>He would have known the hand that poised over the sugar bowl +though he had not seen the face; a brownish hand, not +long-fingered, not narrow for its length—a compact, deft, +firm little hand.</p> +<p>"None now," he said.</p> +<p>"Do you find it fattening?" she asked.</p> +<p>He recognized the mischievous sparkle of the eyes, the quizzical +turn of the lips, which was her asset in keeping any question from +being personal. Nevertheless, he flushed slightly.</p> +<p>"A change of taste," he averred.</p> +<p>"Since you've become such a great man?" she hazarded. "Is that +too strong?" This referred to the tea.</p> +<p>"No, just right!" he nodded.</p> +<p>He was studying her with the polite, veiled scrutiny of a man of +the world. A materialist, he would look a woman over as he would a +soldier when he had been a major-general making an inspection. She +was slim, supple; he liked slim, supple women. Her eyes, though +none the less luminous, and her lips, though none the less +flexible, did not seem quite as out of proportion with the rest of +her face as formerly, now that it had taken on the contour of +maturity, which was noticeable also in the lines of her figure. +Yes, she was twenty-seven, with the vivacity of seventeen retained, +though she were on the edge of being an old maid according to the +conventional notions. Necks and shoulders that happened to be at +his side at dinner, he had found, when they were really beautiful, +were not averse to his glance of appreciative and discriminating +admiration of physical charm. But he saw her shrug slightly and +caught a spark from her eyes that made him vaguely conscious of an +offence to her sensibilities, and he was wholly conscious that the +suggestion, bringing his faculties up sharply, had the pleasure of +a novel sensation.</p> +<p>"How fast you have gone ahead!" she said. "That little prophecy +of mine did come true. You are chief of Staff!"</p> +<p>After a smile of satisfaction he corrected her.</p> +<p>"Not quite; vice-chief—the right-hand man of His +Excellency. I am a buffer between him and the heads of divisions. +This has led to the erroneous assumption which I cannot too +forcibly deny—"</p> +<p>He was proceeding with the phraseology habitual whenever men or +women, to flatter him, had intimated that they realized that he was +the actual head of the army. His Excellency, with the prestige of a +career, must be kept soporifically enjoying the forms of authority. +To arouse his jealousy might curtail Westerling's actual power.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes!" breathed Marta softly, arching her eyebrows a trifle +as she would when looking all around and through a thing or when +she found any one beating about the bush. The little frown +disappeared and she smiled understandingly. "You know I'm not a +perfect goose!" she added. "Had you been made chief of staff in +name, too, all the old generals would have been in the sulks and +the young generals jealous," she continued. "The one way that you +might have the power to exercise was by proxy."</p> +<p>This downright frankness was another reflection of the old days +before he was at the apex of the pyramid. Now it was so unusual in +his experience as to be almost a shock. On the point of arguing, he +caught a mischievous, delightful "Isn't that so?" in her eyes, and +replied:</p> +<p>"Yes, I shouldn't wonder if it were!"</p> +<p>Why shouldn't he admit the truth to the one who had rung the +bell of his secret ambition long ago by recognizing in him the +ability to reach his goal? He marvelled at her grasp of the +situation.</p> +<p>"It wasn't so very hard to say, was it?" she asked happily, in +response to his smile. Then, her gift of putting herself in +another's place, while she strove to look at things with his +purpose and vision, in full play, she went on in a different tone, +as much to herself as to him: "You have labored to make yourself +master of a mighty organization. You did not care for the +non-essentials. You wanted the reality of shaping results."</p> +<p>"Yes, the results, the power!" he exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Fifteen hundred regiments!" she continued thoughtfully, looking +at a given point rather than at him. "Every regiment a blade which +you would bring to an even sharpness! Every regiment a unit of a +harmonious whole, knowing how to screen itself from fire and give +fire as long as bidden, in answer to your will if war comes! That +is what you live and plan for, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"Yes, exactly! Yes, you have it!" he said. His shoulders +stiffened as he thrilled at seeing a picture of himself, as he +wanted to see himself, done in bold strokes. It assured him that +not only had his own mind grown beyond what were to him the narrow +associations of his old La Tir days, but that hers had grown, too. +"And you—what have you been doing all these years?" he +asked.</p> +<p>"Living the life of a woman on a country estate," she replied. +"Since you made a rule that no Gray officers Should cross the +frontier we have been a little lonelier, having only the Brown +officers to tea. Did you really find it so bad for discipline in +your own case?" she concluded with playful solemnity.</p> +<p>"One cannot consider individual cases in a general order," he +explained. "And, remember, the Browns made the ruling first. You +see, every year means a tightening—yes, a tightening, as arms +and armies grow more complicated and the maintaining of staff +secrets more important. And you have been all the time at La Tir, +truly?" he asked, changing the subject. He was convinced that she +had acquired something that could not be gained on the outskirts of +a provincial town.</p> +<p>"No. I have travelled. I have been quite around the world."</p> +<p>"You have!" This explained much. "How I envy you! That is a +privilege I shall not know until I am superannuated." While he +should remain chief of staff he must be literally a prisoner in his +own country.</p> +<p>"Yes, I should say it was splendid! Splendid—yes, indeed!" +Snappy little nods of the head being unequal to expressing the joy +of the memories that her exclamation evoked, she clasped her hands +over her knees and swung back and forth in the ecstasy of +seventeen.</p> +<p>"Splendid! I should say so!" She nestled the curling tip of her +tongue against her teeth, as if the recollection must also be +tasted. "Splendid, enchanting, enlightening, stupendous, and +wickedly expensive! Another girl and I did it all on our own."</p> +<p>"O-oh!" he exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Oh, oh, oh!" she repeated after him. "Oh, what, please?"</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing!" he said. It was quite comprehensible to him how +well equipped she was to take care of herself on such an +adventure.</p> +<p>"Precisely, when you come to think it over!" she concluded.</p> +<p>"What interested you most? What was the big lesson of all your +journeying?" he asked, ready to play the listener.</p> +<p>"Being born and bred on a frontier, of an ancestry that was born +and bred on a frontier, why, frontiers interested me most," she +said. "I collected impressions of frontiers as some people collect +pictures. I found them all alike—stupid, just stupid! Oh, so +stupid!" Her frown grew with the repetition of the word; her +fingers closed in on her palm in vexation. He recollected that he +had seen her like this two or three times at La Tir, when he had +found the outbursts most entertaining. He imagined that the small +fist pressed against the table edge could deliver a stinging blow. +"As stupid as it is for neighbors to quarrel! It put me at war with +all frontiers."</p> +<p>"Apparently," he said.</p> +<p>She withdrew her fist from the table, dropped the opened hand +over the other on her knee, her body relaxing, her wrath passing +into a kind of shamefacedness and then into a soft, prolonged +laugh.</p> +<p>"I laugh at myself, at my own inconsistency," she said. "I was +warlike against war. At all events, if there is anything to make a +teacher of peace lose her temper it is the folly of frontiers."</p> +<p>"Yes?" he exclaimed. "Yes? Go on!" And he thought: "I'm really +having a very good time."</p> +<p>"You see, I came home from my tour with an idea—an idea +for a life occupation just as engrossing as yours," she went on, +"and opposed to yours. I saw there was no use of working with the +grown-up folks. They must be left to The Hague conferences and the +peace societies. But children are quite alike the world over. You +can plant thoughts in the young that will take root and grow as +they grow."</p> +<p>"Patriotism, for instance," he observed narrowly.</p> +<p>"No, the follies of martial patriotism! The wickedness of war, +which is the product of martial patriotism!"</p> +<p>The follies of patriotism! This was the red flag of anarchy to +him. He started to speak, flushing angrily, but held his tongue and +only emitted a "whew!" in good-humored wonder.</p> +<p>"I see you are not very frightened by my opposition," she +rejoined in a flash of amusement not wholly untempered by +exasperation.</p> +<p>"We got the appropriation for an additional army corps this +year," he explained contentedly, his repose completely +regained.</p> +<p>"Thus increasing the odds against us. But perhaps not; for we +are dealing with the children not with recruits, as I said. We call +ourselves the teachers of peace. I organized the first class in La +Tir. I have the children come together every Sunday morning and I +tell them about the children that live in other countries. I tell +them that a child a thousand miles away is just as much a neighbor +as the one across the street. At first I feared that they would +find it uninteresting. But if you know how to talk to them they +don't."</p> +<p>"Naturally they don't, when you talk to them," he +interrupted.</p> +<p>She was so intent that she passed over the compliment with a +gesture like that of brushing away a cobweb. Her eyes were like +deep, clear wells of faith and repose.</p> +<p>"I try to make the children of other countries so interesting +that our children will like them too well ever to want to kill them +when they grow up. We have a little peace prayer—they have +even come to like to recite it—a prayer and an oath. But I'll +not bother you with it. Other women have taken up the idea. I have +found a girl who is going to start a class on your side in South La +Tir, and I came here to meet some women who want to inaugurate the +movement in your capital."</p> +<p>"I'll have to see about that!" he rejoined, half-banteringly, +half-threateningly.</p> +<p>"There is something else to come, even more irritating," she +said, less intently and smiling. "So please be prepared to hold +your temper."</p> +<p>"I shall not beat my fist on the table defending war as you did +defending peace!" he retaliated with significant enjoyment.</p> +<p>But she used his retort for an opening.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'd rather you would do that than jest! It's human. It's +going to war because one is angry. You would go to war as a matter +of cold reason."</p> +<p>"If otherwise, I should lose," he replied.</p> +<p>"Exactly. You make it easy for me to approach my point. I want +to prevent you from losing!" she announced cheerfully yet very +seriously.</p> +<p>"Yes? Proceed. I brace myself against an explosion of +indignation!"</p> +<p>"It is the duty of a teacher of peace to use all her influence +with the people she knows," she went on. "So I am going to ask you +not to let your country ever go to war against mine while you are +chief of staff."</p> +<p>"Mine against yours?" he equivocated. "Why, you live almost +within gunshot of the line! Your people have as much Gray as Brown +blood in their veins, <i>Your</i> country! <i>My</i> country! Isn't +that patriotism?"</p> +<p>"Patriotism, but not martial patriotism," she corrected him. "My +thought is to stop war for both countries as war, regardless of +sides. Promise me that you will not permit it!"</p> +<p>"I not permit it!" He smiled with the kindly patronage of a +great man who sees a charming woman floundering in an attempt at +logic. "It is for the premier to say. I merely make the machine +ready. The government says the word that makes it move. I able to +stop war! Come, come!"</p> +<p>"But you can—yes, you can with a word!" she declared +positively.</p> +<p>"How?" he asked, amazed. "How?" he repeated blandly.</p> +<p>Was she teasing him? he wondered. What new resources of +confusion had ten years and a tour around the world developed in +her? Was it possible that the Whole idea of the teachers of peace +was an invention to make conversation at his expense? If so, she +carried it off with a sincerity that suggested other depths yet +unsounded.</p> +<p>"Very easily," she answered. "You can tell the premier that you +cannot win. Tell him that you will break your army to pieces +against the Browns' fortifications!"</p> +<p>He gasped. Then an inner voice prompted him that the cue was +comedy.</p> +<p>"Excellent fooling—excellent!" he said with a laugh. "Tell +the premier that I should lose when I have five million men to +their three million! What a harlequin chief of staff I should be! +Excellent fooling! You almost had me!"</p> +<p>Again he laughed, though in the fashion of one who had hardly +unbent his spine, while he was wishing for the old days when he +might take tea with her one or two afternoons a week. It would be a +fine tonic after his isolation at the apex of the pyramid surveying +the deference of the lower levels. Then he saw that her eyes, +shimmering with wonder, grew dull and her lips parted in a rigid, +pale line as if she were hurt.</p> +<p>"You think I am joking?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Why, yes!"</p> +<p>"But I am not! No, no, not about such a ghastly subject as a war +to-day!" She was leaning toward him, hands on knee and eyes burning +like coals without a spark. "I"—she paused as she had before +she broke out with the first prophecy—"I will quote part of +our children's oath: 'I will not be a coward. It is a coward who +strikes first. A brave man even after he receives a blow tries to +reason with his assailant, and does not strike back until he +receives a second blow. I shall not let a burglar drive me from my +house. If an enemy tries to take my land I shall appeal to his +sense of justice and reason with him, but if he then persists I +shall fight for my home. If I am victorious I shall not try to take +his land but to make the most of my own. I shall never cross a +frontier to kill my fellowmen.'"</p> +<p>Very impressive she made the oath. Her deliberate recital of it +had the quality which justifies every word with an urgent +faith.</p> +<p>"You see, with that teaching there can be no war," she +proceeded, "and those who strike will be weak; those who defend +will be strong."</p> +<p>"Perhaps," he said.</p> +<p>"You would not like to see thousands, hundreds of thousands, of +men killed and maimed, would you?" she demanded, and her eyes held +the horror of the sight in reality. "You can prevent it—you +<i>can</i>!" Her heart was in the appeal.</p> +<p>"The old argument! No, I should not like to see that," he +replied. "I only do my duty as a soldier to my country."</p> +<p>"The old answer! The more reason why you should tell the premier +you can't! But there is still another reason for telling him," she +urged gently.</p> +<p>Now he saw her not at twenty-seven but at seventeen, girlish, +the subject of no processes of reason but in the spell of an +intuition, and he knew that something out of the blue in a flash +was coming.</p> +<p>"For you will not win!" she declared.</p> +<p>This struck fire. Square jaw and sturdy body, in masculine +energy, resolute and trained, were set indomitably against feminine +vitality.</p> +<p>"Yes, we shall win! We shall win!" he said without even the +physical demonstration of a gesture and in a hard, even voice which +was like that of the machinery of modern war itself, a voice which +the aristocratic sniff, the Louis XVI. curls, or any of the old +gallery-display heroes would have thought utterly lacking in +histrionics suitable to the occasion. He remained rigid after he +had spoken, handsome, self-possessed.</p> +<p>There was no use of beating feminine fists against such a stone +wall. The force of the male was supreme. She smiled with a strange, +quivering loosening of the lips. She spread out her hands with +fingers apart, as if to let something run free from them into the +air, and the flame of appeal that had been in her eyes broke into +many lights that seemed to scatter into space, yet ready to return +at her command. She glanced at the clock and rose, almost +abruptly.</p> +<p>"I was very strenuous riding my hobby against yours, wasn't I?" +she exclaimed in a flutter of distraction that made it easy for him +to descend from his own steed. "I stated a feeling. I made a guess, +a threat about your winning—and all in the air. That's a +woman's privilege; one men grant, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"We enjoy doing so," he replied, all urbanity.</p> +<p>"Thank you!" she said simply. "I must be at home in time for the +children's lesson on Sunday. My sleeper is engaged, and if I am not +to miss the train I must go immediately."</p> +<p>With an undeniable shock of regret he realized that the +interview was over. Really, he had had a very good time; not only +that, but—.</p> +<p>"Will it be ten years before we meet again?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Perhaps, unless you change the rules about officers dossing the +frontier to take tea," she replied.</p> +<p>"Even if I did, the vice-chief of staff might hardly go."</p> +<p>"Then perhaps you must wait," she warned him, "until the +teachers of peace have done away with all frontiers."</p> +<p>"Or, if there were war, I should come!" he answered in kind. He +half wished that this might start another argument and she would +miss her train. But she made no reply. "And you may come to the +Gray capital again. You are not through travelling!" he added.</p> +<p>This aroused her afresh; the flame was back in her eyes.</p> +<p>"Yes. I have all the memories of my journeys to enjoy, all their +lessons to study," she said. "There is the big world, and you want +to have had the breath of all its climates in your lungs, the +visions of all its peoples yours. Then the other thing is three +acres and a cow. If you could only have the solidarity of the +Japanese, their public spirit, with the old Chinese love of family +and peace, and a cathedral near-by on a hill! Patriotism? Why, it +is in the soil of your three acres. I love to feel the warm, rich +earth of our own garden in my hands! Hereafter I shall be a +stay-at-home; and if my children win," she held out her hand in +parting with the same frank, earnest grip of her greeting, "why, +you will find that tea is, as usual, at four-thirty."</p> +<p>He had found the women of his high official world—a +narrower world than he realized—much alike. Striking certain +keys, certain chords responded. He could probe the depths of their +minds, he thought, in a single evening. Then he passed on, unless +it was in the interest of pleasure or of his career to linger. This +meeting had left his curiosity baffled. He understood how Marta's +vitality demanded action, which exerted itself in a feminine way +for a feminine cause. The cure for such a fad was most clear to his +masculine-perception. What if all the power she had shown in her +appeal for peace could be made to serve another ambition? He knew +that he was a great man. More than once he had wondered what would +happen if he were to meet a great woman. And he should not see +Marta Galland again unless war came.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='VII' id="VII"></a> +<h2>VII</h2> +<h3>TIMES HAVE CHANGED</h3> +<br> +<p>A prodigious brown worm, its body turning and rising and falling +with the grade and throbbing with the march of its centipede feet, +wound its way along a rising mountain road. In the strong, youthful +figures set in the universal type of military mould it might have +been a regiment of any one of many nations' but the tint of its +uniform was the brown of the nine hundred regiments that prepared +for war against the gray of the fifteen hundred under Hedworth +Westerling.</p> +<p>The 53d of the Browns had started for La Tir on the same day +that the 128th of the Grays had started for South La Tir. While the +128th was going to new scenes, the 53d was returning to familiar +ground. It had detrained in the capital of the province from which +its ranks had been recruited. After a steep incline, there was a +welcome bugle note and with shouts of delight the centipede's legs +broke apart! Bankers', laborers', doctors', valets', butchers', +manufacturers', and judges' sons threw themselves down on the +greensward of the embankment to rest. With their talk of home, of +relatives whom they had met at the station, and of the changes in +the town was mingled talk of the crisis.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, an aged man was approaching. At times he would break +into a kind of trot that ended, after a few steps, in shortness of +breath. He was quite withered, his bright eyes twinkling out of an +area of moth patches, and he wore a frayed uniform coat with a +medal on the breast.</p> +<p>"Is this the 53d?" he quavered to the nearest soldier</p> +<p>"It certainly is!" some one answered. "Come and join us, +veteran!"</p> +<p>"Is Tom—Tom Fragini here?"</p> +<p>The answer came from a big soldier, who sprang to his feet and +leaped toward the old man.</p> +<p>"It's grandfather, as I live!" he called out, kissing the +veteran on both cheeks. "I saw sister in town, and she said you'd +be at the gate as we marched by."</p> +<p>"Didn't wait at no gate! Marched right up to you!" said +grandfather. "Marched up with my uniform and medal on! Stand off +there, Tom, so I can see you. My word! You're bigger'n your father, +but not bigger'n I was! No, sir, not bigger'n I was in my day +before that wound sort o' bent me over. They say it's the lead in +the blood. I've still got the bullet!"</p> +<p>The old man's trousers were threadbare but well darned, and the +holes in the uppers of his shoes were carefully patched. He had a +merry air of optimism, which his grandson had inherited.</p> +<p>"Well, Tom, how much longer you got to serve?" asked +grandfather.</p> +<p>"Six months," answered Tom.</p> +<p>"One, two, three, four—" grandfather counted the numbers +off on his fingers. "That's good. You'll be in time for the spring +ploughing. My, how you have filled out! But, somehow, I can't get +used to this kind of uniform. Why, I don't see how a girl'd be +attracted to you fellows, at all!"</p> +<p>"They have to, for we're the only kind of soldiers there are +nowadays. Not as gay as in your day, that's sure, when you were in +the Hussars, eh?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I was in the Hussars—in the Hussars! I tell you, +with our sabres a-gleaming, our horses' bits a-jingling, our +pennons a-flying, and all the color of our uniform—I tell +you, the girls used to open their eyes at us. And we went into the +charge like that—yes, sir, just that gay and grand, Colonel +Galland leading!"</p> +<p>Military history said that it had been a rather foolish charge, +a fine example of the vainglory of unreasoning bravery that +accomplishes nothing, but no one would suggest such scepticism of +an immortal event in popular imagination in hearing of the old man +as he lived over that intoxicated rush of horses and men into a +battery of the Grays.</p> +<p>"Well, didn't you find what I said was true about the +lowlanders?" asked grandfather after he had finished the charge, +referring to the people of the southern frontier of the Browns, +where the 53d had just been garrisoned.</p> +<p>"No, I kind of liked them. I made a lot of friends," admitted +Tom. "They're very progressive."</p> +<p>"Eh? eh? You're joking!" To like the people of the southern +frontier was only less conceivable than liking the people of the +Grays. "That's because you didn't see deep under them. They're all +on the outside—a flighty lot! Why, if they'd done their part +in that last war we'd have licked the Grays until they cried for +mercy! If their army corps had stood its ground at +Volmer—"</p> +<p>"So you've always said," interrupted Tom.</p> +<p>"And the way they cook tripe! I couldn't stomach it, could you? +And if there's anything I am partial to it's a good dish of tripe! +And their light beer—like drinking froth! And their +bread—why, it ain't bread! It's chips! 'Taint fit for +civilized folks!"</p> +<p>"But I sort of got used to their ways," said Tom.</p> +<p>"Eh? eh?" Grandfather looked at grandson quizzically, seeking +the cause of such heterodoxy in a northern man. "Say, you ain't +been falling in love?" he hazarded. "You—you ain't going to +bring one of them southern girls home?"</p> +<p>"No!" said Tom laughing.</p> +<p>"Well, I'm glad you ain't, for they're naturally light-minded. I +remember 'em well." He wandered on with his questions and comments. +"Is it a fact, Tom, or was you just joking when you wrote home that +the soldiers took so many baths?"</p> +<p>"Yes, they do."</p> +<p>"Well, that beats me! It's a wonder you didn't all die of +pneumonia!" He paused to absorb the phenomenon. Then his +half-childish mind, prompted by a random recollection, flitted to +another subject which set him to giggling. "And the little +crawlers—did they bother you much, the little crawlers?"</p> +<p>"The little crawlers?" repeated Tom, mystified.</p> +<p>"Yes. Everybody used to get 'em just from living close together. +Had to comb 'em out and pick 'em out of your clothes. The chase we +used to call it."</p> +<p>"No, grandfather, crawlers have gone out of fashion. And no more +epidemics of typhoid and dysentery either," said Tom.</p> +<p>"Times have certainly changed!" grumbled Grandfather +Fragini.</p> +<p>Interested in their own reunion, they had paid no attention to a +group of Tom's comrades near-by, sprawled around a newspaper +containing the latest despatches from both capitals. It was a group +as typical as that of the Grays around Hugo Mallin's cot; only the +common voice was that of defence.</p> +<p>"Five million soldiers to our three million!"</p> +<p>"Eighty million people to our fifty million!"</p> +<p>"Because of the odds, they think we are bound to yield, no +matter if we are in the right!"</p> +<p>"Let them come!" said the butcher's son. "If we have to go, it +will be on a wave of blood."</p> +<p>"And they will come some time," said the judge's son. "They want +our land."</p> +<p>"We gain nothing if we beat them back. War will be the ruin of +business,"-said the banker's son.</p> +<p>"Yes, we are prosperous now. Let well enough alone!" said the +manufacturer's son.</p> +<p>"Some say it makes wages higher," said the laborer's son, "but I +am thinking it's a poor way of raising your pay."</p> +<p>"There won't be any war," said the banker's son "There can't be +without credit. The banking interests will lot permit it."</p> +<p>"There can always be war," said the judge's son, "always when +one people determines to strike at another people—even if it +brings bankruptcy."</p> +<p>"It would be a war that would make all others in history a mere +exchange of skirmishes. Every able-bodied man in +line—automatics a hundred shots a minute—guns a dozen +shots a minute—and aeroplanes and dirigibles!" said the +manufacturer's son.</p> +<p>"To the death, too!"</p> +<p>"And not for glory! We of the 53d who live on the frontier will +be fighting for our homes."</p> +<p>"If we lose them we'll never get them back. Better die than be +beaten!"</p> +<p>There was no humorist Hugo Mallin in this group; no nimble fancy +to send heresy skating over thin ice; but there was Herbert +Stransky, with deep-set eyes, slightly squinting inward, and a +heavy jaw, an enormous man who was the best shot in the company +when he cared to be. He had listened in silence to the others, his +rather thick but expressive lips curving with cynicism. His only +speech all the morning had been in the midst of the reception in +the public square of the town when he said:</p> +<p>"This home-coming doesn't mean much to me. Home? Hell! The +hedgerows of the world are my home!"</p> +<p>He appeared older than his years, and hard and bitter, except +when his eyes would light with a feverish sort of fire which shone +now as he broke into a lull in the talk.</p> +<p>"Comrades," he began.</p> +<p>"Let us hear from the socialist!" a Tory exclaimed.</p> +<p>"No, the anarchist!" shouted a socialist.</p> +<p>"There won't be any war!" said Stransky, his voice gradually +rising to the pitch of an agitator relishing the sensation of his +own words. "Patriotism is the played-out trick of the ruling +classes to keep down the proletariat. There won't be any war! Why? +Because there are too many enlightened men on both sides who do the +world's work. We of the 53d are a provincial lot, but throughout +our army there are thousands upon thousands like me. They march, +they drill, but when battle comes they will refuse to +fight—my comrades in heart, to whom the flag of this country +means no more than that of any other country!"</p> +<p>"Hold on! The flag is sacred!" cried the banker's son.</p> +<p>"Yes, that will do!"</p> +<p>"Shut up!"</p> +<p>Other voices formed a chorus of angry protest.</p> +<p>"I knew you thought it; now I've caught you!" This from the +sergeant, who had seen hard fighting against a savage foe in Africa +and therefore was particularly bitter about the Bodlapoo affair. +The welt of a scar on his gaunt, fever-yellowed cheek turned a +deeper red as he seized Stransky by the collar of the blouse.</p> +<p>Stransky raised his free hand as if to strike, but paused as he +faced the company's boyish captain, slender of figure, aristocratic +of feature. His indignation was as evident as the sergeant's, but +he was biting his lips to keep it under control.</p> +<p>"You heard what he said, sir?"</p> +<p>"The latter part—enough!"</p> +<p>"It's incitation to mutiny! An example!"</p> +<p>"Yes, put him under arrest."</p> +<p>The sergeant still held fast to the collar of Stransky's blouse. +Stransky could have shaken himself free, as a mastiff frees himself +from a puppy, but this was resistance to arrest and he had not yet +made up his mind to go that far. His muscles were weaving under the +sergeant's grip, his eyes glowing as with volcanic fire waiting on +the madness of impulse for eruption.</p> +<p>"I wonder if it is really worth while to put him under arrest?" +said some one at the edge of the group in amiable inquiry.</p> +<p>The voice came from an officer of about thirty-five, who +apparently had strolled over from a near-by aeroplane station to +look at the regiment. From his shoulder hung the gold cords of the +staff. His left hand thrust in the pocket of his blouse heightened +the ease of his carriage, which was free of conventional military +stiffness, while his eyes had the peculiar eagerness of a man who +seems to find everything that comes under his observation +interesting and significant.</p> +<p>It was Colonel Arthur Lanstron, whose plane had skimmed the +Gallands' garden wall for the "easy bump" ten years ago. There was +something more than mere titular respect in the way the young +captain saluted—-admiration and the diffident, boyish glance +of recognition which does not presume to take the lead in recalling +a slight acquaintance with a man of distinction.</p> +<p>"Dellarme! It's all of two years since we met at Miss Galland's, +isn't it?" Lanstron said, shaking hands with the captain.</p> +<p>"Yes, just before we were ordered south," said Dellarme, +obviously pleased to be remembered.</p> +<p>"I overheard your speech," Lanstron continued, nodding toward +Stransky. "It was very informing."</p> +<p>A crowd of soldiers was now pressing around Stransky, and in the +front rank was Grandfather Fragini.</p> +<p>"Said our flag was no better'n any other flag, did he?" piped +the old man. "Beat him to a pulp! That's what the Hussars would +have done."</p> +<p>"If you don't mind telling it in public, Stransky, I should like +to know your origin," said Lanstron, prepared to be as considerate +of an anarchist's private feelings as of anybody's.</p> +<p>Stransky squinted his eyes down the bony bridge of his nose and +grinned sardonically.</p> +<p>"That won't take long," he answered. "My father, so far as I +could identify him, died in jail and my mother of drink."</p> +<p>"That was hardly to the purple!" observed Lanstron +thoughtfully.</p> +<p>"No, to the red!" answered Stransky savagely.</p> +<p>"I mean that it was hardly inclined to make you take ft roseate +view of life as a beautiful thing in a well-ordered world where +favors of fortune are evenly distributed," continued Lanstron.</p> +<p>"Rather to make me rejoice in the hope of a new order of +things—the re-creation of society!" Stransky uttered the +sentiment with the triumphant pride of a pupil who knows his +text-book thoroughly.</p> +<p>By this time the colonel commanding the regiment, who had +noticed the excitement from a distance, appeared, forcing a gap for +his passage through the crowd with sharp words. He, too, recognized +Lanstron. After they had shaken hands, the colonel scowled as he +heard the situation explained, with the old sergeant, still holding +fast to Stransky's collar, a capable and insistent witness for the +prosecution; while Stransky, the fire in his eyes dying to coals, +stared straight ahead.</p> +<p>"It is only a suggestion, of course," said Lanstron, speaking +quite as a spectator to avoid the least indication of interference +with the colonel's authority, "but it seems possible that Stransky +has clothed his wrongs in a garb that could never set well on his +nature if he tried to wear it in practice. He is really an +individualist. Enraged, he would fight well. I should like nothing +better than a force of Stranskys if I had to defend a redoubt in a +last stand."</p> +<p>"Yes, he might fight." The colonel looked hard at Stransky's +rigid profile, with its tight lips and chin as firm as if cut out +of stone. "You never know who will fight in the pinch, they say. +But that's speculation. It's the example that I have to deal +with."</p> +<p>"He is not of the insidious, plotting type. He spoke his mind +openly," suggested Lanstron. "If you give him the limit of the law, +why, he becomes a martyr to persecution. I should say that his +remarks might pass for barrack-room gassing."</p> +<p>"Very well," said the colonel, taking the shortest way out of +the difficulty. "We will excuse the first offence."</p> +<p>"Yes, sir!" said the sergeant mechanically as he released his +grip of the offender. "We had two anarchists in my company in +Africa," he observed in loyal agreement with orders. "They fought +like devils. The only trouble was to keep them from shooting +innocent natives for sport."</p> +<p>Stransky's collar was still crumpled on the nape of his neck. He +remained stock-still, staring down the bridge of his nose. For a +full minute he did not vouchsafe so much as a glance upward over +the change in his fortunes. Then he looked around at Lanstron +gloweringly.</p> +<p>"I know who you are!" he said. "You were born to the purple. You +have had education, opportunity, position—everything that you +and your kind want to keep for your kind. You are smarter than the +others. You would hang a man with spider-webs instead of hemp. But +I won't fight for you! No, I won't!"</p> +<p>He threw back his head with a determination in his defiance so +intense that it had a certain kind of dignity that freed it of +theatrical affectation.</p> +<p>"Yes, I was fortunate; but perhaps nature was not altogether +unkind to you," said Lanstron. "In Napoleonic times, Stransky, I +think you might even have carried a marshal's baton in your +knapsack."</p> +<p>"You—what rot!" A sort of triumph played around Stransky's +full lips and his jaw shot out challengingly. "No, never against my +comrades on the other side of the border!" he concluded, his dogged +stare returning.</p> +<p>Now the colonel gave the order to fall in; the bugle sounded and +the centipede's legs began to assemble on the road. But Stransky +remained a statue, his rifle untouched on the sward. He seemed of a +mind to let the regiment go on without him.</p> +<p>"Stransky, fall in!" called the sergeant.</p> +<p>Still Stransky did not move. A comrade picked up the rifle and +fairly thrust it into his hands.</p> +<p>"Come on, Bert, and knead dough with the rest of us!" he +whispered. "Come on! Cheer up!" Evidently his comrades liked +Stransky.</p> +<p>"No!" roared Stransky, bringing the rifle down on the ground +with a heavy blow.</p> +<p>Then impulse broke through the restraint that seemed to +characterize the Lanstron of thirty-five. The Lanstron of +twenty-five, who had met catastrophe because he was +"wool-gathering," asserted himself. He put his hand on Stransky's +shoulder. It was a strong though slim hand that looked as if it had +been trained to do the work of two hands in the process of its +owner's own transformation. Thus the old sergeant had seen a +general remonstrate with a brave veteran who had been guilty of bad +conduct in Africa. The old colonel gasped at such a subversion of +the dignity of rank. He saw the army going to the devil. But young +Dellarme, watching with eager curiosity, was sensible of no +familiarity in the act. It all depended on how such a thing was +done, he was thinking.</p> +<p>"We all have minutes when we are more or less anarchists," said +Lanstron in the human appeal of one man to another. "But we don't +want to be judged by one of those minutes. I got a hand mashed up +for a mistake that took only a second. Think this over to-night +before you act. Then, if you are of the same opinion, go to the +colonel and tell him so. Come, why not?"</p> +<p>"All right, sir, you're so decent about it!" grumbled Stransky, +taking his place in the ranks.</p> +<p>Hep-hep-hep! the regiment started on its way, with Grandfather +Fragini keeping at his grandson's side.</p> +<p>"Makes me feel young again, but it's darned solemn beside the +Hussars, with their horses' bits a-jingling. Times have certainly +changed—officers' hands in their pockets, saying 'if you +don't mind' to a man that's insulted the flag! Kicking ain't good +enough for that traitor! Ought to hang him—yes, sir, hang and +draw him!"</p> +<p>Lanstron watched the marching column for a time.</p> +<p>"Hep-hep-hep! It's the brown of the infantry that counts in the +end," he mused. "I liked that wall-eyed giant. He's all man!"</p> +<p>Then his livening glance swept the heavens inquiringly. A speck +in the blue, far away in the realms of atmospheric infinity, kept +growing in size until it took the form of the wings with which man +flies. The plane volplaned down with steady swiftness, till its +racing shadow lay large over the landscape for a few seconds before +it rose again with beautiful ease and precision.</p> +<p>"Bully for you, Etzel!" Lanstron thought, as he started back to +the aeroplane station. "You belong in the corps. We shall not let +you return to your regiment for a while. You've a cool head and +you'd charge a church tower if that were the orders."</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='VIII' id="VIII"></a> +<h2>VIII</h2> +<h3>THANKS TO A BUMBLEBEE</h3> +<br> +<p>"Has he changed much?" Mrs. Galland asked, when she learned that +Marta had seen Westerling.</p> +<p>"Jove has reached his own—the very top of Olympus, and he +likes the prospect," Marta replied.</p> +<p>The only home news of importance that her mother had to impart +related to a tiny strip of paper with the greeting, "Hello, Marta!" +that had been dropped from the pilot aeroplane as the Brown aerial +squadron flew over the garden after its race with the Gray. She +noted Marta's customary quickening interest at mention of +Lanstron's name. It had become the talisman of a hope whose +fulfilment was always being deferred.</p> +<p>"How different Lanny and Westerling are!" Marta exclaimed, the +picture of the two men rising before her vision. "Lanny trying so +hard under the pressure of his responsibility not to be human and +unable to forget himself, and Westerling trying, really trying, to +be human at times, but unable to forget that he is Jove! Did you +wave your acknowledgments to Lanny,'?"</p> +<p>"Why, no! How could I?" asked Mrs. Galland. "He went over so +fast I didn't know it was he—a little figure so far +overhead."</p> +<p>"It's odd, but I think I'd know Lanny a mile away by a sort of +instinct," said Marta. "You know I'd like a gun that would fire a +bomb and drop a message of 'Hello, yourself!' right on his knee. +Wouldn't that give him a surprise?"</p> +<p>"You and he are so full of nonsense that you—" But Mrs. +Galland desisted. What was the use?</p> +<p>Sometimes she wished that Colonel Lanstron would stay away +altogether and leave a free field for a newcomer. Yet if two or +three weeks passed without a call from him she was apprehensive. +Besides being one of the Thorbourg Lanstrons, he was a most +charming, capable man, who had risen very rapidly in his +profession. It had been only six months after he had bolted up from +the wreck of his plane by way of self-introduction to Marta before +he alighted in the field across the road from the garden to report +a promise kept.</p> +<p>Once she knew that he was a Lanstron of Thorbourg, a fact of +hardly passing interest to Marta, Mrs. Galland made him intimately +welcome. By the time he had paid his third call he was Lanny to +Marta and she was Marta to him, quite as if they had known each +other from childhood. She had a gift for unaffected comradeship. He +was the kind of man with whom she could be a comrade. There was +always something to say the moment they met and they were never +through talking when he had to go. They disagreed so often that +Mrs. Galland thought they made a business of it. She wondered how +real friendship could exist between two such controversialists. +They could be seriously disputatious to the point of quarrelling; +they could be light-heartedly disputatious to the bantering point, +where either was uncertain which side of the argument he had +originally espoused.</p> +<p>"The gardener did not cut the chrysanthemums," Mrs. Galland +said. "That is why we had asters in the bowl at luncheon. His +deafness is really a cross, I never realized before what a +companion one naturally makes of a gardener."</p> +<p>"No, there's no purpose in having a deaf gardener," said Marta. +"Nature distributes her defects unintelligently. Now, if we had +dumb demagogues, deaf gossips, and steel that when it was being +formed into a sword-blade or a gun would turn to putty, we should +be much better off. But we couldn't let Feller go, could we? He's +already made himself a fixture. So few people would put up with his +deafness! He's so desirous of pleasing and he loves flowers."</p> +<p>"And Colonel Lanstron recommended him. Except for his deafness +he is a perfect gardener. Of course he had to have some drawback, +for complete perfection is impossible," Mrs. Galland agreed.</p> +<p>The old straw hat that shaded the fringe of white hair had been +hovering within easy approaching distance of the chrysanthemum bed +ever since the whistle of the train that brought Marta home had +been heard from the station. Feller was watching Marta when she +paused for a moment on the second terrace steps, enjoying the sweep +of landscape anew with the freshness of a first glimpse and the +intimacy of every familiar detail cut in the memory. It was her +landscape, famed in history, where history might yet be made.</p> +<p>His greeting was picturesque and effective. With white head +bared, he looked up from the chrysanthemums to her and back at them +and up at her again, with a sort of covert comradeship in his eyes +which were young, very young for such white hair, and held out his +little pad and pencil. She smiled approval and slowly worked out a +"perfect" in the deaf-and-dumb alphabet before she took the +proffered pencil and wrote:</p> +<p>"I practised the deaf-and-dumb alphabet on the train. I'm +learning fast. We've never had such chrysanthemums before. Next +year we shall have some irises—just a few—as fine as +they have in Japan. How's your rheumatism?"</p> +<p>He had replaced the broad-brimmed hat over his brow and his lips +were visible in a lingering smile as he read the message.</p> +<p>"Thank you, Miss Galland," he said in his even monotone. "You +are very kind and I am very fortunate to find a place like this. I +already knew something about irises and I've been reading up on the +subject. We'll try to hold our own with those little Japanese. As +for the rheumatism, since you are good enough to inquire, Miss +Galland, it's about the same. My legs are getting old. There are +bound to be some kinks in them."</p> +<p>"You select those to cut—a great armful!" she slowly +spelled out on her fingers, clapping her hands with a triumphant +cry of "How's that?" at the finish.</p> +<p>"Your time has come! To the sacrifice!" he exclaimed to the +flowers.</p> +<p>Very tenderly, as if he were an executioner considerate of the +victims of an inexorable law, he was snipping the stems, his head +bent close to the blooms, when a bumblebee appeared among the +salvias a few feet away. Perhaps army staffs who neglect no detail +have made a mistake in overlooking the whirring of bumblebees' +wings in affecting the fate of nations. These plunderers are not +dangerous from their size, but they have not yet been organized to +the hep-hep-hep of partisanship. They would as soon live in a Gray +as a Brown garden, as soon probe for an atom of honey on one side +of the white posts as the other. This one as it drew nearer was +well to one side over Feller's shoulders. With eyes and mind intent +on his work, Feller turned his head absently, as one will at an +interruption.</p> +<p>"There you are again, my dear!" he said. "You must think you're +a battery of automatics."</p> +<p>He went on cutting chrysanthemums, apparently unconscious that +he had spoken.</p> +<p>"Bring them up on the veranda, please," Marta wrote on the pad, +her fingers moving with unusual nervous rapidity, the only sign of +her inward excitement.</p> +<p>Coming to the head of the steps of the terrace above, she looked +back. Feller's face was quite hidden under his hat and suddenly she +seemed to stub her toe and fall, while she uttered a low cry of +pain. The hat rose like a jack-in-the-box with the cover released. +Feller bounded toward her, taking two of steps at a time. She +scrambled to her feet hastily, laughed, and gestured to show that +she was not hurt. He drew his shoulders together and bent over +spasmodically, gripping his knee.</p> +<p>"I can run off if something starts me just as spry as if I were +twenty," he said. "But after I've done it and the kinks come, I +realize I've got old legs."</p> +<p>"Now I know he's not deaf!" Marta murmured, as he returned to +his work. She frowned. She was angry. "Lanny, you have something to +explain," she thought.</p> +<p>But when Feller brought his armful of chrysanthemums to her on +the veranda, there was no trace in her expression of the discovery +she had made, and she wrote a direction on his pad in the usual +fashion.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='IX' id="IX"></a> +<h2>IX</h2> +<h3>A SUNDAY MORNING CALL</h3> +<br> +<p>As a boy, Arthur Lanstron had persisted in being an exception to +the influences of both heredity and environment. Though his father +and both grandfathers were officers who believed theirs to be the +true gentleman's profession, he had preferred any kind of +mechanical toy to arranging the most gayly painted tin soldiers in +formation on the nursery floor; and he would rather read about the +wonders of natural history and electricity than the campaigns of +Napoleon and Frederick the Great and my lord Nelson. Left to his +own choice, he would miss the parade of the garrison for inspection +by an excellency in order to ask questions of a man wiping the oil +off his hands with cotton-waste, who was far more entertaining to +him than the most spick-and-span ramrod of a sergeant.</p> +<p>The first time he saw a dynamo in motion he was spellbound. This +was even more fascinating than the drill that the family dentist +worked with his foot. His tutor found him inclined to estimate a +Cæsar, self-characterized in his commentaries, as less +humanly appealing than his first love, the engine-driver, with whom +he kept up a correspondence after his father had been transferred +to another post. He was given to magic lanterns, private telegraph +and telephone lines, trying to walk a tight rope, and parachute +acts and experiments in chemistry. When the family were not worried +lest he should break his neck or blow his head off investigating, +they were irritated by a certain plebeian strain in him which kept +all kinds of company. His mother disapproved of his picking an +acquaintance with a group of acrobats in order to improve his skill +on the trapeze. His excuse for his supple friends was that they +were all "experts" in something, just as his tutor was in Greek +verbs.</p> +<p>Very light-hearted he was, busy, vital, reckless, with an +earnest smile that could win the post telegrapher to teach him the +code alphabet or persuade his father not to destroy his laboratory +after he had singed off his eyebrows. This may explain why he had +to cram hard in the dead languages at times, with a towel tied +around his head. He complained that they were out of date; and he +wanted to hear the Gauls' story, too, before he fully made up his +mind about Cæsar. But for the living languages he had a +natural gift which his father's service abroad as military +attaché for a while enabled him to cultivate.</p> +<p>Upon being told one day that he was to go to the military school +the following autumn, he broke out in open rebellion. He had just +decided, after having passed through the stages of engine-driver, +telegraph operator, railroad-signal watchman, automobile +manufacturer, and superintendent of the city's waterworks, to build +bridges over tropical torrents that always rose in floods to try +all his skill in saving his construction work.</p> +<p>"I don't want to go into the army!" he said.</p> +<p>"Why?" asked his father, thinking that when the boy had to give +his reasons he would soon be argued out of the heresy.</p> +<p>"It's drilling a few hours a day, then nothing to do," Arthur +replied. "All your work waits on war and you don't know that there +will ever be any war. It waits on something nobody wants to happen. +Now, if you manufacture something, why, you see wool come out +cloth, steel come out an automobile. If you build a bridge you see +it rising little by little. You're getting your results every day; +you see your mistakes and your successes. You're making something, +creating something; there's something going on all the while that +isn't guesswork. I think that's what I want to say. You won't order +me to be a soldier will you?"</p> +<p>The father, loath to do this, called in the assistance of an +able pleader then, Eugene Partow, lately become chief of staff of +the Browns, who was an old friend of the Lanstron family. It was +not in Partow's mind to lose such a recruit in a time when the +heads of the army were trying, in answer to the demands of a new +age, to counteract the old idea that made an officer's the +conventional avocation of a gentleman of leisurely habits.</p> +<p>"No army that ever worked as hard in peace as the average +manufacturer or bridge-builder was ever beaten in battle if it +fought anything like equal numbers," he said. "The officer who +works hard in the army deserves more credit than he would in any +other profession because the incentive for results seems remote. +But what a terrible test of results may be made in a single hour's +action. There is nothing you have learned or ever will learn that +may not be of service to you. There is no invention, no form of +industrial organization that must not be included in the greatest +organization of all, whose plant and methods must be up to date in +every particular. To be backward in a single particular may mean +disaster—may mean that the loss of thousands of lives is due +to you. You must have self-control, courage, dash, judgment If you +have not kept up, if you are not equal to the test, your +inefficiency will mean your shame and your country's suffering; +while efficiency means a clear conscience and your country's +security."</p> +<p>Thus Partow turned the balance on the side of filial affection. +He kept watch of the boy, but without favoring him with influence. +Young Lanstron, who wanted to see results, had to earn them. He +realized in practice the truth of Partow's saying that there was +nothing he had ever learned but what could be of service to him as +an officer. What the acrobats had taught him probably saved his +life on the occasion of his first flight across the range. The +friendships with all sorts of people in his youth were the +forerunner of his sympathy with the giant, wall-eyed Stransky who +had mutinied on the march.</p> +<p>"Finding enough work to do?" Par tow would ask with a chuckle +when they met in these days, for he had made Lanstron both chief of +intelligence and chief aerostatic officer. Young Colonel Lanstron's +was the duty of gaining the secrets of the Gray staff and keeping +those of the Brown and organizing up-to-the-moment efficiency in +the new forces of the air.</p> +<p>He had remarked truly enough that the injury to his left hand +served as a better reminder against the folly of wool-gathering +than a string, even a large red string, tied around his finger. +Thanks to skilful surgery working ingeniously with splintered bone +and pulpy flesh, there was nothing unpleasant to the eye in a +stiffened wrist and scarred knuckles slightly misshapen. The +fingers, incapable of spreading much, were yet serviceable and had +a firm grip of the wheel as he rose from the aeroplane station on +the Sunday morning after Marta's return home for a flight to La +Tir.</p> +<p>He knew the pattern weaving under his feet as one knows that of +his own garden from an overlooking window. Every detail of the +staff map, ravines, roads, buildings, battery positions, was +stitched together in the flowing reality of actual vision. No white +posts were necessary to tell him where the boundary between the two +nations lay. The line was drawn in his brain.</p> +<p>Nature was in a gracious humor, the very tree tops motionless. +The rich landscape in Sunday quiet appealed to his affections. He +loved his country and he loved Marta. It had been on such a day as +this when there would be no danger, that he had taken her for her +first flight. The glimpses, as they flew, of her profile, so alive +and tense, were fresh to his eye. How serious she had been! How +vivid her impressions! How tempestuous her ideas! He recalled their +talk upon their return; all his questions and her answers.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>"Sublime and ridiculous!" she had begun in a summing up. "It is +like seeing the life of a family through a glass roof—the +big, universal family! Valleys seemed no larger than sauce-dishes +on a table."</p> +<p>"What was the sublime thing?"</p> +<p>"Man's toil! The cumulative result of it, on every hand, in the +common aim for food, comfort, happiness, and progress! Little +details of difference disappeared. Towns, villages, houses were +simply towns, villages, houses of any country."</p> +<p>"And the supremely ridiculous thing?"</p> +<p>"A regiment of cavalry of the Grays and one of the Browns on the +same road! They appeared so self-important, as if the sky would +fall or the earth heave up to meet the sky if they got out of +formation. I imagined each man a metal figure that fitted astride a +metal horse of the kind that comes to children at Christmas time. +They might better be engaged in brass-ring-snatching contests at +the merry-go-rounds of public fairs. I wanted to brush them all +over with a wave of the hand as you might the battalions of the +nursery floor. Just drilling and drilling in order to slash at one +another some day. Flight! flight! It makes one's mind as big and +broad as the world. Oh, what a wonderful talk I'll have for my kids +next Sunday!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Now that Lanstron was the organizer of the aviation corps his +own flights were rare. Mostly they were made to La Tir. His visits +to Marta were his holidays? All the time that she was absent on her +journey around the world they had corresponded. Her letters, so +revealing of herself and her peculiar angles of observation, formed +a bundle sacredly preserved. Her mother's joking reference about +her girlish resolution not to marry a soldier often recurred to +him. There, he sometimes thought, was the real obstacle to his +great desire.</p> +<p>He wished, this morning, that he were not Colonel Lanstron, but +the bridge-builder returning from his triumph after he had at last +spanned the chasm and controlled the floods. Ah, there was +something like romance and real accomplishment in that! What an +easy time a bridge-builder had, comparatively, too! What an easy +master capital must be compared to Eugene Partow! But no! If Marta +loved it would not matter whether he were bridge builder or army +builder. Yes, she was like that. And what right had he to think of +marriage? He could not have any home. He was now in the capital; +again, along the frontier—a vagabond of duty and Partow's +orders.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>When he alighted from the plane he thrust his left hand into his +blouse pocket. He always carried it there, as if it were literally +sewn in place. In moments of emotion the scarred nerves would +twitch as the telltale of his sensitiveness; and this was something +he would conceal from others no matter how conscious he was of it +himself. He found the Galland veranda deserted. In response to his +ring a maid came to the open door. Her face was sad, with a beauty +that had prematurely faded. But it lighted pleasurably in +recognition. Her hair was thick and tawny, lying low over the brow; +her eyes were a softly luminous brown and her full lips sensitive +and yielding. Lanstron, an intimate of the Galland household, knew +her story well and the part that Marta had played in it.</p> +<p>Some four years previously, when a baby was in prospect for +Minna, who wore no wedding-ring, Mrs. Galland had been inclined to +send the maid to an institution, "where they will take good care of +her, my dear. That's what such institutions are for. It is quite +scandalous for her and for us—never happened in our family +before!"</p> +<p>Marta arched her eyebrows.</p> +<p>"We don't know!" she exclaimed softly.</p> +<p>"How can you think such a thing, let alone saying it —you, +a Galland!" her mother gasped in indignation.</p> +<p>"That is, if we go far back," said Marta. "At all events, we +have no precedent, so let's establish one by keeping her."</p> +<p>"But for her own sake! She will have to live with her shame!" +Mrs. Galland objected. "Let her begin afresh in the city. We shall +give her a good recommendation, for she is really an excellent +servant. Yes, she will readily find a place among strangers."</p> +<p>"Still, she doesn't want to go, and it would be cruel to send +her away."</p> +<p>"Cruel! Why, Marta, do you think I would be cruel? Oh, very +well, then we will let her stay!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>"Both are away at church. Mrs. Galland ought to be here any +minute, but Miss Galland will be later because of her children's +class," said Minna. "Will you wait on the veranda?"</p> +<p>He was saying that he would stroll in the garden when childish +footsteps were heard in the hall, and after a curly head had +nestled against the mother's skirts its owner, reminded of the +importance of manners in the world where the stork had left her, +made a curtsey. Lanstron shook a small hand which must have lately +been on intimate terms with sugar or jam.</p> +<p>"How do you do, flying soldier man?" chirruped Clarissa Eileen. +It was evident that she held Lanstron in high favor.</p> +<p>"Let me hear you say your name," said Lanstron.</p> +<p>Clarissa Eileen was triumphant. She had been waiting for days +with the revelation when he should make that old request. Now she +enunciated it with every vowel and consonant correctly and primly +uttered; indeed, she repeated it four or five times in proof of +complete mastery.</p> +<p>"A pretty name. I've often wondered how you came to give it to +her," said Lanstron to Minna.</p> +<p>"You do like it!" exclaimed Minna with girlish eagerness. "I +gave her the most beautiful name I could think of +because"—she laid her hand caressingly on the child's head +and a madonna-like radiance stole into her face—"because she +might at least have a beautiful name when"—the dull blaze of +a recollection now burning in her eyes—"when there wasn't +much prospect of many beautiful things coming into her life; though +I know, of course, that the world thinks she ought to be called +Maggie."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Proceeding leisurely along the main path of the first terrace, +Lanstron followed it past the rear of the house to the old tower. +Long ago the moat that surrounded the castle had been filled in. +The green of rows of grape-vines lay against the background of a +mat of ivy on the ancient stone walls, which had been cut away from +the loopholes set with window-glass. The door was open, showing a +room that had been closed in by a ceiling of boards from the walls +to the circular stairway that ran aloft from the dungeons. On the +floor of flags were cheap rugs. A number of seed and nursery +catalogues were piled on a round table covered with a brown +cloth.</p> +<p>"Hello!" Lanstron called softly. "Hello!" he called louder and +yet louder.</p> +<p>Receiving no answer, he retraced his steps and seated himself on +the second terrace in a secluded spot in the shadow of the first +terrace wall, where he could see any one coming up the main flight +of steps from the road. When Marta walked she usually came from +town by that way. At length the sound of a slow step from another +direction broke on his car. Some one was approaching along the path +that ran at his feet. Around the corner of the wall, in his +workman's Sunday clothes of black, but still wearing his old straw +hat, appeared Feller, the gardener. He paused to examine a +rose-bush and Lanstron regarded him thoughtfully and sadly: his +white hair, his stoop, his graceful hands, their narrow finger-tips +turning over the leaves.</p> +<p>As he turned away he looked up, and a glance of definite and +unfaltering recognition was exchanged between the two men. Feller's +hat was promptly lowered enough to form a barrier between their +eyes. His face was singularly expressionless. It seemed withered, +clayish, like the walls of a furnace in which the fire has died +out. After a few steps he paused before another rose-bush. +Meanwhile, both had swept the surroundings in a sharp, covert +survey. They had the garden to themselves.</p> +<p>"Gustave!" Lanstron exclaimed under his breath.</p> +<p>"Lanny!" exclaimed the gardener, turning over a branch of the +rose-bush. He seemed unwilling to risk talking openly with +Lanstron.</p> +<p>"You look the good workman in his Sunday best to a T!" said +Lanstron.</p> +<p>"Being stone-deaf," returned Feller, with a trace of drollery in +his voice, "I hear very well—at times. Tell me"—his +whisper was quivering with eagerness—"shall we fight? Shall +we fight?"</p> +<p>"We are nearer to it than we have ever been in our time," +Lanstron replied.</p> +<p>The hat still shaded Feller's face, his stoop was unchanged, but +the branch in his hand shook.</p> +<p>"Honest?" he exclaimed. "Oh, the chance of it! the chance of +it!"</p> +<p>"Gustave!" Lanstron's voice, still low, came in a gust of +sympathy, and the pocket which concealed his hand gave a nervous +twitch as if it held something alive and distinct from his own +being. "The trial wears on you! You feel you must break out?"</p> +<p>"No, I'm game—game, I tell you!" Still Feller spoke to the +branch, which was steady now in a firm hand. "No, I don't grow +weary of the garden and the isolation as long as there is hope. But +being deaf, always deaf, and yet hearing everything! Always +stooped, even when the bugles are sounding to the artillery +garrison—that is somewhat tiresome!"</p> +<p>"The idea of being deaf was yours, you know, Gustave," said +Lanstron.</p> +<p>"Yes, and the right plan. It was fun at first going through the +streets and hearing people say, 'He's deaf as a stone!' and having +everybody work their lips at me while I pretended to study them in +a dumb effort to understand. Actors have two hours of it an +evening, and an occasional change of parts, but I act one part all +the time. I get as taciturn as a clam. If war doesn't come pretty +soon I shall be ready for a monastery of perpetual silence."</p> +<p>"Confound it, Gustave!" exclaimed Lanstron. "It's inhuman, old +boy! You shan't stay another day!" Discretion to the winds, he +sprang to his feet.</p> +<p>An impulse of the same sort overwhelmed Feller. His hand let go +of the branch. The brim of the hat shot up, revealing a face that +was not old, but in mercurial quickness of expressive, +uncontrollable emotion was young, handsomely and attractively young +in its frame of prematurely white hair. The stoop was wholly gone. +He was tall now, his eyes sparkling with wild, happy lights and the +soles of the heavy workman's shoes unconsciously drawn together in +a military stance. Lanstron's twitching hand flew from his pocket +and with the other found Feller's hand in a strong, warm, double +grip. For a second's silence they remained thus. Feller was the +first to recover himself and utter a warning.</p> +<p>"Miss Galland—Minna—some one might be looking."</p> +<p>He drew away abruptly, his face becoming suddenly old, his stoop +returning, and began to study the branch as before. Lanstron +dropped back to his seat and gazed at the brown roofs of the town. +Thus they might continue their conversation as guest and +gardener.</p> +<p>"I didn't think you'd stick it out, but you wanted to +try—you chose," said Lanstron. "Come—this +afternoon—now!"</p> +<p>"This is best for me—this to the end of the chapter!" +Feller replied doggedly. "Because you say you didn't think I'd +stick it out—ah, how well you know me. Lanny!—is the +one reason that I should."</p> +<p>"True!" Lanstron agreed. "A victory over yourself!"</p> +<p>"How often I have heard in imagination the outbreak of +rifle-fire down there by the white posts! How often I have longed +for that day—for war! I live for war!"</p> +<p>"It may never come," Lanstron said in frank protest. "And, for +God's sake, don't pray for it in that way!"</p> +<p>"Then I shall be patient—patient under all irritations. +The worst is," and Feller raised his head heavily, in a way that +seemed to emphasize both his stoop and his age, "the worst is Miss +Galland."</p> +<p>"Miss Galland! How?"</p> +<p>"She is learning the deaf-and-dumb alphabet in order the better +to communicate with me. She likes to talk of the +flowers—gardening is a passion with her, too—and all +the while, in face of the honesty of those big eyes of hers and of +her gentle old mother's confidence, I am living a lie! Oh, the +satire of it! And I have not been used to lying. That is my only +virtue; at any rate, I was never a liar!"</p> +<p>"Then, why stay, Gustave? I will find something else for +you."</p> +<p>"No!" Feller shot back irritably. "No!" he repeated resolutely. +"I don't want to go! I mean to be game—I—" He shifted +his gaze dismally from the bush which he still pretended to examine +and suddenly broke off with: "Miss Galland is coming!"</p> +<p>He started to move away with a gardener's shuffling steps, +looking from right to left for weeds. Then pausing, he glanced +back, his face in another transformation—that of a +comedian.</p> +<p>"La, la, la!" he clucked, tossing his head gayly. "Depend on me, +Lanny! They'll never know I'm not deaf. I get my blue fits only on +Sundays! And deafness has its compensations. Think if I had to +listen to all the stories of my table companion, Peter, the +coachman! La, la, la!" he clucked again, before disappearing around +a bend in the path. "La, la, la! I'm the man for this part!"</p> +<p>Lanstron started toward the steps that Marta was ascending. She +moved leisurely, yet with a certain springy energy that suggested +that she might have come on the run without being out of breath or +seeming to have made an effort. Without seeing him, she paused +before one of the urns of hydrangeas in full bloom that flanked the +third terrace wall, and, as if she would encompass and plunge her +spirit into their abundant beauty, she spread out her arms and drew +the blossoms together in a mass in which she half buried her face. +The act was delightful in its grace and spontaneity. It was like +having a page out of her secret self. It brought the glow of his +great desire into Lanstron's eyes.</p> +<p>"Hello, stranger!" she called as she saw him, and quickened her +pace.</p> +<p>"Hello, pedagogue!" he responded.</p> +<p>As they shook hands they swung their arms back and forth like a +pair of romping children for a moment.</p> +<p>"We had a grand session of the school this morning, the largest +class ever!" she said. "And the points we scored off you soldiers! +You'll find disarmament already in progress when you return to +headquarters. We're irresistible, or at least," she added, with a +flash of intensity, "we're going to be some day."</p> +<p>"So you put on your war-paint!"</p> +<p>"It must be the pollen from the hydrangeas!" She flicked her +handkerchief from her belt and passed it to him. "Show that you +know how to be useful!"</p> +<p>He performed the task with deliberate care.</p> +<p>"Heavens! You even have some on your ear and some on your hair; +but I'll leave it on your hair; it's rather becoming. There you +are!" he concluded.</p> +<p>"Off my hair, too!"</p> +<p>"Very well. I always obey orders."</p> +<p>"I oughtn't to have asked you to do it at all!" she exclaimed +with a sudden change of manner as they started up to the house. +"But a habit of friendship, a habit of liking to believe in one's +friends, was uppermost. I forgot. I oughtn't even to have shaken +hands with you!"</p> +<p>"Marta! What now, Marta?" he asked.</p> +<p>He had known her in reproach, in anger, in laughing mockery, in +militant seriousness, but never before like this. The pain and +indignation in her eyes came not from the sheer hurt of a wound but +from the hurt of its source. It was as if he had learned by the +signal of its loss that he had a deeper hold on her than he had +realized.</p> +<p>"Yes, I have a bone to pick with you," she said, recovering a +grim sort of fellowship. "A big bone! If you're half a friend +you'll give me the very marrow of it."</p> +<p>"I am ready!" he answered more pathetically than +philosophically.</p> +<p>"There's not time now; after luncheon, when mother is taking her +nap," she concluded as they came to the last step and saw Mrs. +Galland on the veranda.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='X' id="X"></a> +<h2>X</h2> +<h3>A LUNCHEON AT THE GALLANDS'</h3> +<br> +<p>Seated at the head of the table at luncheon, Mrs. Galland, with +her round cheeks, her rather becoming double chin, and her nicely +dressed hair, almost snow-white now, suggested a girlhood in the +Bulwer Lytton and Octave Feuillet age, when darkened rooms were +favored for the complexion and it was the fashion for gentlewomen +to faint on occasion. She lived in the past; the present interested +her only when it aroused some memory. To-day all her memories were +of the war of forty years ago.</p> +<p>"I remember how Mrs. Karly collapsed when they brought word of +the death of her son, and never recovered her mind. And I remember +Eunice Steiner when they brought Charles home looking so +white—and it was the very day set for their wedding! And I +remember all the wounded gathered at the foot of the terrace and +being carried in here, while the guns were roaring out on the +plain—and now it's all coming again!"</p> +<p>"Why, mother, you're very blue to-day!" said Marta.</p> +<p>"We have had these crises before. We—" Lanstron began, +rallying her.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, you have reason and argument," she parried gently. "I +have only my feelings. But it's in the air—yes, war is in the +air, as it was that other time. And I remember that young private, +only a boy, who lay crumpled up on the steps where he fell. I +bandaged him myself and helped to make his position easier. Yes, I +almost lifted him in my arms" She was looking at the flowers on the +table but not seeing them. She was seeing the face of the young +private forty years ago.</p> +<p>"He asked me to bring him a rose. He said the smell of roses was +so sweet and he felt so faint. I brought him the rose—and he +was dead!"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes!" Marta breathed. She, too, in her quick imagination, +was seeing the young private and spatters of blood on the terrace. +Lanstron feasted his eyes on her face, which mirrored her +emotion.</p> +<p>"Oh, the groans of the dying in the night and the cheering when +the news of victory came in!" Mrs. Galland continued. "I could not +cheer. But that was, long, long ago—long ago, and yet only +yesterday! And now we are to have it all over again. The young men +must have their turn. They will not be satisfied by the experience +of their fathers. Yes, all over again; still more +horrible—and it was horrible enough then! I used to get giddy +easily. I do yet. But I didn't faint—no, not once through the +days of nursing, the weeks of suspense. I wondered afterward how I +could have endured so much."</p> +<p>"Are we of the septicized-serum age equal to it?" Marta +exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Yes, we of the matter-of-fact, automatic gun-recoil age!" put +in Lanstron.</p> +<p>"Oh, mother," Marta went on, "I wish you would go with me to the +class some morning, you who have seen and felt war, and tell it all +as you saw it to the children!"</p> +<p>"But," remonstrated Mrs. Galland, "I'm an old-fashioned woman; +and, Marta, your father was an officer, as your grandfather was, +too. I am sure he would not approve of your school, and I could do +nothing against his wishes."</p> +<p>She looked up with moistening eyes to a portrait on the opposite +wall over the seat which her husband had occupied at table. +Lanstron saw there a florid, jaunty gentleman in riding-habit, +gloves on knee, crop in hand. The spirit of the first Galland or of +the stern grandfather on the side wall—with Blücher +tufts in front of his ears sturdy defiance of that parvenu +Bonaparte and of his own younger brother who had fallen fighting +for Bonaparte—would have frowned on the descendant who had +filled the house with many guests and paid the bills with mortgages +in the ebbing tide of the family fortunes. But Mrs. Galland saw +only a hero. She shared his prejudices against the manufacturers of +the town; she saw the sale of land to be cut up into dwelling +sites, which had saved the Gallands from bankruptcy, as the working +of the adverse fate of modern tendencies. Even as she had left all +details of business to her husband, so she had of late left them to +Marta's managing.</p> +<p>"Edward and I were just engaged before the outbreak of the war," +she proceeded. "How handsome he was in his Hussars' uniform! How +frightened I was and hew proud of his fine bravado when I heard him +and a number of fellow officers drinking here in this room to quick +death and speedy promotion! Do they still have that toast, +Colonel?"</p> +<p>"Yes, in some regiments," Lanstron answered. He would not say +that what was good form in the days of the <i>beau sabreur</i> was +considered a little theatrical in the days of the automatic +gun-recoil.</p> +<p>"And when he came—oh, when you came home," breathed Mrs. +Galland to the portrait, "with the scar on your cheek, how tanned +and strong your hands were and how white mine as you held them so +fast! And then"—she smiled in peaceful content—"then I +did faint. I am not ashamed of it—I did!"</p> +<p>"Without any danger of falling far!" said Lanstron happily.</p> +<p>"Or with much of a jar!" added Marta.</p> +<p>"You prattling children!" gasped Mrs. Galland, her cheeks +flushing. "Do you think that I fainted purposely? I would have been +ashamed to my dying day if I had feigned it!"</p> +<p>"And you did not faint in the presence of the dead and dying!" +said Marta thoughtfully, wonderingly, leaning nearer to her mother, +her eyes athirst and drinking.</p> +<p>"But I believe it is only a wispy-waspy sort of girl that faints +at all these days. They're all so businesslike," said Mrs. +Galland—"so businesslike that they are ceasing to marry."</p> +<p>How many girls she had known to wait a little too long! If +anything could awaken Marta to action it ought to be war, which was +a great match-maker forty years ago. The thought of a lover in +danger had precipitated wavering hearts into engagements. Marta's +mood was such that she received the hint openly and playfully +to-day.</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't despair!" she exclaimed, straightening her +shoulders and drawing in her chin with a mock display of bravery. +"I believe it was in an English novel that I read that any woman +without a hump can get any man she sets out for. It is a matter of +determination and concentration and a wise choice of vulnerable +objects."</p> +<p>"Marta, Marta!" gasped Mrs. Galland. In her tone was a volume of +lamentation.</p> +<p>"Now that I'm twenty-seven mother is ready to take any risk on +my behalf, if it is masculine. By the time I'm thirty she will be +ready to give me to a peddler with a harelip!" she said +mischievously.</p> +<p>"A peddler with a harelip! Marta, will you never be +serious?"</p> +<p>"Some day, mother," Marta went on, "when we find the right man, +you hold him while I propose, and together we'll surely—"</p> +<p>Mrs. Galland could not resist laughing, which was one way to +stop further absurdities—absurdities concealing a nervous +strain they happened to be this time—while Colonel Lanstron +was a little flushed and ill at ease. She had a truly silvery +laugh—the kind no longer in fashion among the gentry since +golden laughs came in,—that went well with the dimples +dipping into her pink cheeks.</p> +<p>Contrary to custom, she did not excuse herself immediately after +luncheon for her afternoon nap, but kept battling with her nods +until nature was victorious and the fell fast asleep. Marta, grown +restless with impatience, suggested to Lanstron that they stroll in +the garden, and they took the path past the house toward the castle +tower, stopping in an arbor with high hedges on either side around +a statue of Mercury.</p> +<p>"Now!" exclaimed Marta narrowly. "It was you, Lanny, who +recommended Feller to us as a gardener, competent though deaf!" +With literal brevity she told how she had proved him to be a man of +most sensitive hearing. "I didn't let him know that he was +discovered. I felt too much pity for him to do that. You brought +him here—you, Lanny, you are the one to explain."</p> +<p>"True, he is not deaf!" Lanstron replied.</p> +<p>"You knew he was not deaf, while we wrote our messages to him +and I have been learning the deaf-and-dumb alphabet! It was pretty +fun, wasn't it?"</p> +<p>"Not fun—no, Marta!" he parried.</p> +<p>"He is a spy?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Yes, a spy. You can put things in a bright light, Marta!" He +found words coming with difficulty in face of the pain and +disillusion of her set look.</p> +<p>"Using some broken man as a pawn; setting him as a spy in the +garden where you have been the welcome friend!" she exclaimed. "A +spy on what—on my mother, on Minna, on me, on the flowers, as +a part of this monstrous game of trickery and lies that you are +playing?"</p> +<p>There was no trace of anger in her tone. It was that of one +mortally hurt. Anger would have been easier to bear than the +measuring, penetrating wonder that found him guilty of such a +horrible part. Those eyes would have confused Partow himself with +the steady, welling intensity of their gaze. She did not see how +his left hand was twitching and how he stilled its movement by +pressing it against the bench.</p> +<p>"You will take Feller with you when you go!" she said, +rising.</p> +<p>Lanstron dropped his head in a kind of shaking throb of his +whole body and raised a face white with appeal.</p> +<p>"Marta!" He was speaking to a profile, very sensitive and yet +like ivory. "I've no excuse for such an abuse of hospitality except +the obesssion of a loathsome work that some man must do and I was +set to do. My God, Marta! I cease to be natural and human. I am a +machine. I keep thinking, what if war comes and some error of mine +let the enemy know where to strike the blow of victory; or if there +were information I might have gained and failed to gain that would +have given us the victory—if, because I had not done my part, +thousands of lives of our soldiers were sacrificed needlessly!"</p> +<p>At that she turned on him quickly, her face softening.</p> +<p>"You do think of that—the lives?"</p> +<p>"Yes, why shouldn't I?"</p> +<p>"Of those on your side!" she exclaimed, turning away.</p> +<p>"Yes, of those first," he replied. "And, Marta, I did not tell +you why Feller was here because he did not want me to, and I was +curious to see if he had sustained power enough to keep you from +discovering his simulation. I did not think he would remain. I +thought that in a week he would tire of the part. But now you must +have the whole story. You will listen?"</p> +<p>"I should not be fair if I did not, should I?" she replied, with +a weary shadow of a smile.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XI' id="XI"></a> +<h2>XI</h2> +<h3>MARTA HEARS FELLER'S STORY</h3> +<br> +<p>To tell the story as Lanstron told it is to have it from the +partisan lips of a man speaking for a man out of the depths of a +friendship grown into the fibre of youth. It is better written by +the detached narrator.</p> +<p>Gustave Feller's father had died when Gustave was twelve and his +mother found it easy to spoil an only son who was handsome and +popular. He suffered the misfortune of a mental brilliancy that +learns too readily and of a personal charm that wins its way too +easily. He danced well; he was facile at the piano; and he had so +pronounced a gift as an amateur actor that a celebrated +professional had advised him to go on the stage.</p> +<p>The two entering the cadet officers' school at the same time, +chance made them roommates and choice soon made them chums. They +had in common cleverness and the abundant energy that must +continually express itself in action, and a mutual attraction in +the very complexity of dissimilar traits that wove well in +companionship.</p> +<p>While they were together Lanstron was a brake on his friend's +impulses of frivolity which carried him to extremes; but they +separated after receiving their commissions, Feller being assigned +to the horse-artillery and Lanstron to the infantry and later to +the staff. In charge of a field-battery at man[oe]uvres Feller was +at his best. But in the comparative idleness of his profession he +had much spare time for amusement, which led to gambling. Soon many +debts hung over his head, awaiting liquidation at high rates of +interest when he should come into the family property.</p> +<p>To the last his mother, having ever in mind a picture of him as +a fine figure riding at the head of his guns, was kept in ignorance +of this side of his life. With her death, when he had just turned +thirty, a fortune was at his disposal. He made an oath of his +resolution to pay his debts, marry and settle down and maintain his +inheritance unimpaired. This endured for a year before it began to +waver; and the wavering was soon followed by headlong obsession +which fed on itself. As his passion for gambling grew it seemed to +consume the better elements of his nature. Lanstron reasoned with +him, then implored, then stormed; and Feller, regularly promising +to reform, regularly fell each time into greater excesses. Twice +Lanstron saved him from court-martial, but the third time no +intercession or influence would induce his superiors to overlook +the offence. Feller was permitted to resign to avoid a scandal, and +at thirty-three, penniless, disgraced, he faced the world and +sought the new land which has been the refuge for numbers of his +kind. Only one friend bade him farewell as he boarded a steamer for +New York, and this was Lanstron.</p> +<p>"Keep away from cities! Seek the open country! And write me, +Gustave—don't fail!" said Lanstron.</p> +<p>Letters full of hope came from a Wyoming ranch; letters that +told how Feller had learned to rope a steer and had won favor with +his fellows and the ranch boss; of a one-time gourmet's healthy +appetite for the fare of the chuck wagon. Lanstron, reading more +between the lines than in them, understood that as muscles hardened +with the new life the old passion was dying and in its place was +coming something equally dangerous as a possible force in driving +his ardent nature to some excess for the sake of oblivion. Finally, +Feller broke out with the truth.</p> +<p>"My hair is white now, Lanny," he wrote. "I have aged ten years +in these two. With every month of this new life the horror of my +career has become clear to me. I lie awake thinking of it. I feel +unworthy to associate with my simple, outspoken, free-riding +companions. Remorse is literally burning up my brain. It is better +to have my mind diseased, my moral faculties blurred, my body +unsound; for to be normal, healthy, industrious is to remember the +whole ghastly business of my dishonor.</p> +<p>"'Pay back! Pay back in some way!' a voice keeps saying. 'Pay +back! Have an object in mind. Get to work on something that will +help you to pay back or you will soon take a plunge to lower depths +than you have yet sounded.'</p> +<p>"It is not the gambling, not the drinking—no! The thing +that I cannot forget, that grows more horrible the more keenly +awake clean living makes me to the past, is that I am inwardly +foul—as foul as a priest who has broken his vows. I have +disgraced the uniform—my country's uniform. I may never wear +that uniform again; never look the meanest private in a battery in +the face without feeling my cheeks hot with shame. While I cannot +right myself before the service, I should like to do something to +right myself with my conscience. I should like to see a battery +march past and look at the flag and into the faces of the soldiers +of my country feeling that I had atoned—feeling so for my own +peace of mind—atoned by some real deed of service.</p> +<p>"I have been reading how Japanese volunteers made a bridge of +their bodies for their comrades into a Russian trench, and when +everybody else felt a horrible, uncanny admiration for such madness +I have envied them the glorious exhilaration of the moment before +the charge. That was a sufficient reward in life for death. So I +come again to you for help. Now that you are chief of intelligence +you must have many secret agents within the inner circle of the +army's activities. In the midst of peace and the commonplaces of +drill and man[oe]uvres there must be dangerous and trying work +where the only distinction is service for the cause—our cause +of three million against five. Find a task for me, no matter how +mean, thankless, or dangerous, Lanny. The more exacting it is the +more welcome, for the better will be my chance to get right with +myself."</p> +<p>"Come!" was Lanstron's cable in answer.</p> +<p>At the time he had not chosen any employment for Feller. He was +thinking only that something must be found. When he heard of the +death of the Gallands' gardener he recollected that before the +passion for gambling overtook Feller he had still another passion +besides his guns. The garden of the Feller estate had been famous +in its neighborhood. Young Lanstron had not been more fond of the +society of an engine-driver than young Feller of a gardener's. On a +holiday in the capital with his fellow cadets he would separate +from them to spend hours in the botanical gardens. Once, after his +downfall began, at a riotous dinner party he had broken into a +temper with a man who had torn a rose to pieces in order to toss +the petals over the table.</p> +<p>"Flowers have souls!" he had cried in one of his tumultuous, +abandoned reversions to his better self which his companions found +eccentric and diverting. "That rose is the only thing in the room +that is not foul —and I am the foulest of all!"</p> +<p>The next minute, perhaps after another glass of champagne, he +would be winning a burst of laughter by his mimicry of a gouty old +colonel reprimanding him for his erring career.</p> +<p>Naturally, in the instinct of friendship, Lanstron's own account +left out the unpleasant and dwelt on the pleasant facts of Feller's +career.</p> +<p>"His colonel did not understand him," he said. "But I knew the +depths of his fine spirit and generous heart. I knew his talent. I +knew that he was a victim of unsympathetic surroundings, of wealth, +of love of excitement, and his own talent. Where he was, something +must happen. He bubbled with energy. The routine of drill, the same +old chaff of the mess, the garrison gossip, the long hours of +idleness while the busy world throbs outside, which form a +privileged life to most officers, were stifling to him. 'Let's set +things going!' he would say in the old days, and we'd set them. +Most of our demerits were for some kind of deviltry. And how he +loved the guns! I can see the sparkle of his men's eyes at sight of +him. Nobody could get out of them what he could. If he had not been +put in the army as a matter of family custom, if he had been an +actor, or if he and I had gone to build bridges, then he might have +a line of capital letters and periods after his name, and he would +not be a spy or I an employer of spies, doing the work of a +detective agency in an officer's uniform because nobody but an +officer may do it."</p> +<p>At first Marta listened rigidly, but as the narrative proceeded +her interest grew. When Lanstron quoted Feller's appeal for any +task, however mean and thankless, she nodded sympathetically and +understandingly; when he related the incident of the rose, its +appeal was irresistible. She gave a start of delight and broke +silence.</p> +<p>"Yes. I recall just how he looked as he stood on the porch, his +head bent, his shoulders stooped, twirling his hat in his hands, +while mother and I examined him as to his qualifications," she +said. "I remember his words. He said that he knew flowers and that, +like him, flowers could not hear; but perhaps he would be all the +better gardener because he could not hear. He was so ingratiating; +yet his deafness seemed such a drawback that I hesitated."</p> +<p>Following the path to the tower leisurely, they had reached the +tower. Feller's door was open. Marta looked into the room, finding +in the neat arrangement of its furniture a new significance. He was +absent, for it was the dinner hour.</p> +<p>"And on my recommendation you took him," Lanstron continued.</p> +<p>"Yes, on yours, Lanny, on a friend's! You"—she put a cold +emphasis on the word—"you wanted him here for your plans! And +why? You haven't answered that yet. What purpose of the war game +does he serve in our garden?"</p> +<p>His look pleaded for patience, while he tried to smile, which +was rather difficult in face of her attitude.</p> +<p>"Not altogether in the garden; partly in the tower," he replied. +"You are to be in the whole secret and in such a way as to make my +temptation clear, I hope. First, I think you ought to see the +setting. Let us go in"</p> +<p>Impelled by the fascination of Feller's romantic story and by a +curiosity that Lanstron's manner accentuated, she entered the room. +Apparently Lanstron was familiar with the premises. Passing through +the sitting-room into the room adjoining, where Feller stored his +tools, he opened a door that gave onto the circular stone steps +leading down into the dungeon tunnel.</p> +<p>"I think we had better have a light," he said, and when he had +fetched one from the bedchamber he descended the steps, asking her +to follow.</p> +<p>They were in a passage six feet in height and about three feet +broad, which seemed to lead on indefinitely into clammy darkness. +The dewy stone walls sparkled in fantastic and ghostly iridescence +under the rays from the lantern. The dank air lay moist against +their faces.</p> +<p>"It's a long time since I've been here," said Marta, glad to +break the uncanny sound of their footsteps in the weird silence +with her voice. "Not since I was a youngster. Then I came on a dare +to see if there were goblins. There weren't any; at least, none +that cared to manifest himself to me."</p> +<p>"We have a goblin here now that we are nursing for the +Grays—an up-to-date one that is quite visible," said +Lanstron. "This is far enough." He paused and raised the lantern. +With its light full in her face, she blinked. "There, at the height +of your chin!"</p> +<p>She noted a metal button painted gray, set at the side of one of +the stones of the wall, which looked unreal. She struck the stone +with her knuckles and it gave out the sound of hollow wood, which +was followed, as an echo, by a little laugh from Lanstron. Pressing +the button, a panel door flew open, revealing a telephone +mouthpiece and receiver set in the recess. Without giving him time +to refuse permission, her thought all submissive to the prompting +spirit of adventure, she took down the receiver and called: +"Hello!"</p> +<p>"The wire isn't connected," explained Lanstron.</p> +<p>Marta hung up the receiver and closed the door abruptly in a +spasm of reaction.</p> +<p>"Like a detective play!" were the first words that sprang to her +lips. "Well?" As she faced around her eyes glittered in the +lantern's rays. "Well, have you any other little tricks to show me? +Are you a sleight-of-hand artist, too, Lanny? Are you going to take +a machine gun out of your hat?"</p> +<p>"That is the whole bag," he answered. "I thought you'd rather +see it than have it described to you."</p> +<p>"Having seen it, let us go!" she said, in a manner that implied +further reckoning to come.</p> +<p>"If out of a thousand possible sources one source succeeds, then +the cost and pains of the other nine hundred and ninety-nine are +more than repaid," he was saying urgently, the soldier uppermost in +him. "Some of the best service we have had has been absurd in its +simplicity and its audacity. In time of war more than one battle +has been decided by a thing that was a trifle in itself. No matter +what your preparation, you can never remove the element of chance. +An hour gained in information about your enemy's plans may turn the +tide in your favor. A Chinese peasant spy, because he happened to +be intoxicated, was able to give the Japanese warning in time for +Kuroki to make full dispositions for receiving the Russian attack +in force at the Sha-ho. There are many other incidents of like +nature in history. So it is my duty to neglect no possible method, +however absurd."</p> +<p>By this time he was at the head of the steps. Standing to one +side, he offered his hand to assist Marta. But she seemed not to +see it. Her aspect was that of downright antagonism.</p> +<p>"However absurd! yes, it is absurd to think that you can make me +a party to any of your plans, for—" She broke off abruptly +with starting eyes, as if she had seen an apparition.</p> +<p>Lanstron turned and through the door of the tool-room saw Feller +entering the sitting-room. He was not the bent, deferential old +gardener, nor was he the Feller changed to youth as he thought of +himself at the head of a battery. His features were hard-set, a +fighting rage burning in his eyes, his sinews taut as if about to +spring upon an adversary. When he recognized the intruders he +turned limp, his head dropped, hiding his face with his hat brim, +and he steadied himself by resting a hand on the table edge.</p> +<p>"Oh, it's you, Lanny—Colonel Lanstron!" he exclaimed +thickly. "I saw that some one had come in here and naturally I was +alarmed, as nobody but myself ever enters. And Miss Galland!" He +removed his hat deferentially and bowed; his stoop returned and the +lines of his face drooped. "I was so stupid; it did not occur to me +that you might be showing the tower to Colonel Lanstron."</p> +<p>"We are sorry to have given you a fright!" said Marta very +gently.</p> +<p>"Eh? eh?" queried Feller, again deaf. "Fright? Oh, no, no +fright. It might have been some boys from the town marauding."</p> +<p>He was about to withdraw, in keeping with his circumspect +adherence to his part, which he played with a sincerity that +half-convinced even himself at times that he was really deaf, when +the fire flickered back suddenly to his eyes and he glanced from +Lanstron to the stairway in desperate inquiry.</p> +<p>"Wait, Feller! Three of us share the secret now. These are Miss +Galland's premises. I thought best that she should know +everything," said Lanstron.</p> +<p>"Everything!" exclaimed Feller. "Everything—" the word +caught in his throat. "You mean my story, too?" He was neither +young nor old now. He seemed nondescript and miserable. "She knows +who I am?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Yes!" Lanstron answered.</p> +<p>"Lanny!" This almost reproachfully, as if the ethics of +friendship had been abused.</p> +<p>"Yes. I'm sorry, Gustave. I—" Lanstron began +miserably.</p> +<p>"But why not?" said Feller, with a wan attempt at a smile. "You +see—I mean—it does not matter!" he concluded in a +hopeless effort at philosophy.</p> +<p>"My thoughtlessness, my callousness, my obsession with my work! +I should not have told your story," said Lanstron.</p> +<p>"His story!" exclaimed Marta, with a puzzled look to Lanstron +before she turned to Feller with a look of warm sympathy. "Why, +there is no story! You came with excellent recommendations. You are +our very efficient gardener. That is all we need to know. Isn't +that the way you wish it, Mr. Feller?"</p> +<p>"Yes, just that!" he said softly, raising his eyes to her in +gratitude. "Thank you, Miss Galland!"</p> +<p>He was going after another "Thank you!" and a bow; going with +the slow step and stoop of his part, when Lanstron, with a +masculine roughness of impulse which may be a sublime gentleness, +swung him around and seized his hands in a firm caress.</p> +<p>"Forgive me, Gustave!" he begged. "Forgive the most brutal of +all injuries—that which wounds a friend's sensibilities."</p> +<p>"Why, there is nothing I could ever have to forgive you, Lanny," +he said, returning Lanstron's pressure while for an instant his +quickening muscles gave him a soldierly erectness. Then his +attitude changed to one of doubt and inquiry. "And you found out +that I was not deaf when you had that fall on the terrace?" he +asked, turning to Marta. "That is how you happened to get the whole +story? Tell me, honestly!"</p> +<p>"Yes"</p> +<p>"Had you suspected me before that?"</p> +<p>"Yes, if you must know. I observed you speak to a bumblebee you +could not see," she said frankly, though she knew that her answer +hurt him. There was no parleying with the insistence of his pale, +drawn face and his fingers playing in nervous tension on the table +edge. Suddenly he smiled as he had at the bumblebee.</p> +<p>"There you are again, confound you!" he exclaimed, shaking his +finger at the imaginary intruder on the silence of the garden. "Did +anyone else suspect?" he asked in fierce intensity.</p> +<p>"No, I don't think so."</p> +<p>He drew back with a long breath of relief, while his fingers now +beat a merry tattoo.</p> +<p>"You saw so much more of me than the others, Miss Galland," he +said with a charming bow, "and you are so quick to observe that you +are hardly a fair test. That little thunderer will not get me +again. I'll fool the ones I want to fool. And I'm learning, Lanny, +learning all the time—getting a little deafer all the time. +Miss Galland," he added, struck in visible contrition by a new +thought, "I am sorry"—he paused with head down for an +instant—"very sorry to have deceived you."</p> +<p>"But you are still a deaf gardener to me," said Marta, finding +consolation in pleasing him.</p> +<p>"Eh? eh?" He put his hand to his ear as he resumed his stoop. +"Yes, yes," he added, as a deaf man will when understanding of a +remark which he failed at first to catch comes to him in an echo. +"Yes, the gardener has no past," he declared in the gentle old +gardener's voice, "when all the flowers die every year and he +thinks only of next year's blossoms—of the future!"</p> +<p>Now the air of the room seemed to be stifling him, that of the +roofless world of the garden calling him. His face spoke pitifully +a desire for escape as he withdrew. The bent figure disappeared +around a turn in the path and they listened without moving until +the sound of his slow, dragging footfalls had died away.</p> +<p>"When he is serving those of his own social station I can see +how it would be easier for him not to have me know," said Marta. +"Sensitive, proud, and intense—" and a look of horror +appeared in her eyes. "As he came across the room his face was +transformed. I imagine it was like that of a man giving no quarter +in a bayonet charge!"</p> +<p>"His secret was at stake!" Lanstron said in ready +championship.</p> +<p>She put up her hand as if to shut out a picture.</p> +<p>"Don't let us think of it!" she exclaimed with a shudder. "He +did not know what he was doing. His is one of the natures that have +moments when an impulse throws them off their balance and ruins the +work of years. No, we must think only of his sacrifice, his +enforced humiliation, in order to try to make amends for the past +according to his light. No one could refuse him sympathy and +respect."</p> +<p>Feller had won the day for himself where a friend's pleas might +have failed. This was as it should be, Lanstron thought; and he +smiled happily over the rare thing in Marta that felt the appeal +which Feller had for him.</p> +<p>"The right view—the view that you were bound to take!" he +said.</p> +<p>"And yet, I don't know your plans for him, Lanny. Pity is one +thing; there is another thing to consider," she replied, with an +abrupt change of tone. "But first let us leave Feller's quarters. +We are intruders here."</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XII' id="XII"></a> +<h2>XII</h2> +<h3>A CRISIS WITHIN A CRISIS</h3> +<br> +<p>"A broken-hearted man playing deaf; a secret telephone installed +on our premises without our consent—this is all I know so +far," said Marta, who was opposite Lanstron at one end of the +circular seat in the arbor of Mercury, leaning back, with her +weight partly resting on her hand spread out on the edge of the +bench, head down, lashes lowered so that they formed a curtain for +her glance. "I listen!" she added.</p> +<p>"Of course, with our three millions against their five, the +Grays will take the offensive," he said. "For us, the defensive. La +Tir is in an angle. It does not belong in the permanent tactical +line of our defences. Nevertheless, there will be hard fighting +here. The Browns will fall back step by step, and we mean, with +relatively small cost to ourselves, to make the Grays pay a heavy +price for each step—just as heavy as we can!"</p> +<p>They had often argued before with all the weapons known to +controversy; but now the realization that his soldierly precision +was bringing the forces of war into their personal relations struck +her cold, with a logic as cold as his own seemed to her.</p> +<p>"You need not use euphonious terms," she said without lifting +her lashes or any movement except a quick, nervous gesture of her +free hand that fell back into place on her lap. "What you mean is +that you will kill as many as possible of the Grays, isn't it? And +if you could kill five for every man you lost, that would be +splendid, wouldn't it?"</p> +<p>"I don't think of it as splendid. There is nothing splendid +about war," he objected; "not to me, Marta."</p> +<p>"Still you would like to kill five to one, even ten to one, +wouldn't you?" she persisted.</p> +<p>"Marta, you are merciless!"</p> +<p>"So is war. It should be treated mercilessly."</p> +<p>"Yes, twenty to one if they try to take our land!" he declared. +"If we could keep up that ratio the war would not last more than a +week. It would mean a great saving of lives in the end. We should +win."</p> +<p>"Exactly. Thank you. Westerling could not have said it better as +a reason for another army-corps. For the love of humanity—the +humanity of our side—please give us more weapons for murder! +And after you have made them pay five to one or ten to one in human +lives for the tangent, what then? Go on! I want to look at war face +to face, free of the will-o'-the-wisp glamour that draws on +soldiers!"</p> +<p>"We fall back to our first line of defence, fighting all the +time. The Grays occupy La Tir, which will be out of the reach of +our guns. Your house will no longer be in danger, and we happen to +know that Westerling means to make it his headquarters."</p> +<p>"Our house Westerling's headquarters!" she repeated. With a +start that brought her up erect, alert, challenging, her lashes +flickering, she recalled that Westerling had said at parting that +he should see her if war came. This corroborated Lanstron's +information. One side wanted a spy in the garden; the other a +general in the house. Was she expected to make a choice? He had +ceased to be Lanny. He personified war. Westerling personified war. +"I suppose you have spies under his very nose—in his very +staff offices?" she asked.</p> +<p>"And probably he has in ours," said Lanstron, "though we do our +best to prevent it."</p> +<p>"What a pretty example of trust among civilized nations!" she +exclaimed. "And you say that Westerling, who commands the killing +on his side, will be in no danger?"</p> +<p>"Naturally not. As you know, a chief of staff must be at the +wire head where all information centres, free of interruption or +confusion or any possibility of broken lines of communication with +his corps and divisions."</p> +<p>"Then Partow will not be in any danger?"</p> +<p>"For the same reasons, no."</p> +<p>"How comfortable! In perfect safety themselves, they will order +other men to death!"</p> +<p>"Marta, you are unjust!" exclaimed Lanstron, for he revered +Partow as disciple reveres master. "Partow has the iron +cross!"—the prized iron cross given to both officers and men +of the Browns for exceptional courage in action and for that alone. +"He won it leading a second charge with a bullet in his arm, after +he had lost thirty per cent, of his regiment. The second charge +succeeded."</p> +<p>"Yes, I understand," she went on a little wildly. "And perhaps +the colonel on the other side, who fought just as bravely and had +even heavier losses, did not get the bronze cross of the Grays +because he failed. Yes, I understand that bravery is a requisite of +the military cult. You must take some risk or you will not cause +enough slaughter to win either iron or bronze crosses. And, Lanny, +are you a person of such distinction in the business of killing +that you also will be out of danger?"</p> +<p>She had forgotten about the telephone; she had forgotten the +picture of dare-devil nerve he made when he rose from the wreck of +his plane. If his work were to make war, her work was against +war—the mission of her life as she saw it in the intense, +passionate moments when some new absurdity of its processes +appeared to her. She was ready to seize any argument his talk +offered to combat the things for which he stood. She did not see, +as her eyes poured her hot indignation into his, that his maimed +hand was twitching or how he bit his lips and flushed before he +replied:</p> +<p>"Each one goes where he is sent, link by link, down from the +chief of staff. Only in this way can you have that solidarity, that +harmonious efficiency which means victory."</p> +<p>"An autocracy, a tyranny over the lives of all the adult males +in countries that boast of the ballot and self-governing +institutions!" she put in.</p> +<p>"But I hope," he went on, with the quickening pulse and eager +smile that used to greet a call from Feller to "set things going" +in their cadet days, "that I may take out a squadron of dirigibles. +After all this spy business, that would be to my taste."</p> +<p>"And if you caught a regiment in close formation with a shower +of bombs, that would be positively heavenly, wouldn't it?" She bent +nearer to him, her eyes flaming demand and satire.</p> +<p>"No! War—necessary, horrible, hellish!" he replied. +Something in her seemed to draw out the brutal truth she had asked +for in place of euphonious terms.</p> +<p>"You apparently know where your profession ought to feel +perfectly at home—but what is the use? What?" She put her +hands over her face and shuddered. "I grow savage; but it is +because I have known you so well and because everything you say +brings up its answer irresistibly to my mind. I keep thinking of +what mother said at luncheon—of her certainty that war is +coming. I see the garden spattered with blood, the wounded and the +dying—an eddy in the conflict! And I am in a controversial +eddy whirling round and round away from the main current of what +you were to tell me." She let her hands drop, but her eyes still +held their lights of hostility. "Go on. I listen!"</p> +<p>"When I became chief of intelligence I found that an underground +wire had been laid to the castle from the Eighth Division +headquarters, which will be our general staff headquarters in time +of war," he said. "The purpose was the same as now, but abandoned +as chimerical. All that was necessary was to install the +instrument, which Feller did. I, too, saw the plan as chimerical, +yet it was a chance—the one out of a thousand. If it should +happen to succeed we should play with our cards concealed and +theirs on the table."</p> +<p>"The noble art of war, so sportsmanlike!" she exclaimed. "So +like the rules and ideals of the Olympic games! But the games will +not serve to keep nations virile. They must shed blood!"</p> +<p>"Sportsmanlike? Not in the least!" he said. "The sport and +glamour of war are past. The army becomes a business, a trade that +ought to be uniformed in blue jumpers rather than gold lace. We are +in an era of enormous forces, untried tactics, and rapidly changing +conditions. This is why the big nations hesitate to make war; why +they prepare well; why the stake is so great that the smallest +detail must not be overlooked."</p> +<p>She could not hold back her arguments, reason was so +unquestionably on her side.</p> +<p>"Yes, the cunning of the fox, the brutality of Cain, using +modern science and invention! Feint and draw your enemy into a +cul-de-sac; screen your flank attacks; mask your batteries and hold +their fire till the infantry charge is ripe for decimation! Oh, I +have been brought up among soldiers! I know!"</p> +<p>"The rest of Feller's part you have guessed already," he +concluded. "You can see how a deaf, inoffensive old gardener would +hardly seem to know a Gray soldier from a Brown; how it might no +more occur to Westerling to send him away than the family dog or +cat; how he might retain his quarters in the tower; how he could +judge the atmosphere of the staff, whether elated or depressed, +pick up scraps of conversation, and, as a trained officer, know the +value of what he heard and report it over the 'phone to Partow's +headquarters."</p> +<p>"But what about the aeroplanes?" she asked. "I thought you were +to depend on them for scouting."</p> +<p>"We shall use them, but they are the least tried of all the new +resources," he said. "A Gray aeroplane may cut a Brown aeroplane +down before it returns with the news we want. At most, when the +aviator may descend low enough for accurate observation he can see +only what is actually being done. Feller would know Westerling's +plans before they were even in the first steps of execution. +This"—playing the thought happily—"this would be the +ideal arrangement, while our planes and dirigibles were kept over +our lines to strike down theirs. And, Marta, that is all," he +concluded. "I've tried to make everything clear."</p> +<p>"You have, quite!" Marta replied decisively. "Now it is my turn +to talk."</p> +<p>"You have been talking a little already!" he intimated +good-naturedly.</p> +<p>"Only interruptions. That's not really talking," she answered, +and broke into a sharp little laugh. A laugh was helpful to both +after such a taut colloquy, but it seemed only to renew her +energies for conflict. "If there is war, the moment that Feller's +ruse is discovered he will be shot as a spy?" she asked.</p> +<p>"I warned him of that," said Lanstron. "I made the situation +plain. He refused the assignments I first suggested to him. He +objected that they did not offer any real expiation; they were not +difficult or hazardous enough. I saw that I could not trick his +conscience—what a conscience old Gustave has!—by any +nominal task. When I mentioned this one he was instantly keen. The +deafness was his idea of a ruse for his purpose. He wanted his +secret kept. Thinking that his weakness for change would not let +him bear the monotony of a gardener's life as he saw himself +bearing it in imagination, I recommended him to you. And there was +the chance—the thousandth chance, Marta! He is a soldier, +with a soldier's fatalism. He sees no more danger in this than in +commanding a battery in a crisis."</p> +<p>"Naturally, as he is all impulse and fire. But you are the +tempered steel of self-control. You should save him from his +impulses, not make use of them."</p> +<p>"You put it bluntly, Marta. You—"</p> +<p>"My turn to talk!" she reminded him. "Did you of all her views +of Feller from his entrance to his quarters till he had gone. Her +lips, which had kept so firm in argument, were parted and trembling +in sympathy.</p> +<p>"I can see how he would take it!" she exclaimed. "I see his +white hair, his eyes, his fingers trembling on the edge of the +table, his utter dejection—and then impulse, headlong, +irresponsible, craving the devil's company!"</p> +<p>"Yes, nothing could hold him," Lanstron agreed. "What makes it +worse is that with regular living, the pleasure of the garden, and +a settled purpose I have noticed his improvement already!"</p> +<p>"There is something so fine about him, something that deserves +to win out against his weaknesses," she said reflectively.</p> +<p>"If there is no war, I hope—after a year or so, I hope and +believe that I may have him rewarded in some way that would make +him feel that he had atoned."</p> +<p>"And we have been talking as if war were due to-morrow!" she +exclaimed. The breaking light of a discovery, followed by a wave of +happy relief, swept over her responsive features, from relaxing +brows to chin, which gave a toss on its own account. "Why, of +course, Lanny! Till war does come he is only a gardener with an +illusion that is giving mental strength. Why didn't you put it that +way before?" she asked in surprise at so easy a solution having +escaped them. "Let him stay, at least until war comes."</p> +<p>"And then?"</p> +<p>"Lanny, you yourself, with all your information, you don't +think—"</p> +<p>"No; though we are nearer it than ever before, it seems to me," +he said, choosing his words carefully. "But it is likely that +diplomacy will find its way out of this crisis as it has out of +many others."</p> +<p>"Then we'll leave that question till the evil day," she replied. +"We have had a terrific argument, Lanny, haven't we? And you have +won!"</p> +<p>Her fingers flew out to his arm and rested lightly there after +an instant's firm pressure, as was her wont after an argument and +they sheathed their blades. Their comradeship seemed to be restored +in all its old glory of freedom from petty restraint. He was sure +of one thing: that she would let her fingers remain on no other +man's sleeve in this fashion; and he hoped that she would let them +remain there a long time. Very foolish he was about her, very +foolish for a piece of human machinery driven by the dynamo of a +human will.</p> +<p>"I have an impression that your goodness of heart has won," he +suggested gently.</p> +<p>"Or rather let us say that Feller has won."</p> +<p>"Better still, yes, Feller has won!" he agreed. "Oh, it is good, +good, good to be here with you, Marta, away from the grind for a +little while," he was saying, in the fulness of his anticipation of +the hours they should have together before he had to go, when they +heard the sound of steps. He looked around to see an orderly from +the nearest military wireless station.</p> +<p>"I was told it was urgent, sir," said the orderly, in excuse for +his intrusion, as he passed a telegram to Lanstron.</p> +<p>Immediately Lanstron felt the touch of the paper his features +seemed to take on a mask that concealed his thought as he read:</p> +<p>"Take night express. Come direct from station to me. +Partow."</p> +<p>This meant that he would be expected at Partow's office at eight +the next morning. He wrote his answer; the orderly saluted and +departed at a rapid pace; and then, as a matter of habit of the +same kind that makes some men wipe their pens when laying them +down, he struck a match and set fire to one corner of the paper, +which burned to his fingers' ends before he tossed the charred +remains away. Marta imagined what he would be like with the havoc +of war raging around him—all self-possession and mastery; but +actually he was trying to reassure himself that he ought not to +feel petulant over a holiday cut short.</p> +<p>"I shall have to go at once," he said. "Marta, if there were to +be war very soon—within a week or two weeks—what would +be your attitude about Feller's remaining?"</p> +<p>"To carry out his plan, you mean?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>There was a perceptible pause on her part.</p> +<p>"Let him stay," she answered. "I shall have time to decide even +after war begins."</p> +<p>"But instantly war begins you must go!" he declared +urgently.</p> +<p>"You forget a precedent," she reminded him. "The Galland women +have never deserted the Galland house!"</p> +<p>"I know the precedent. But this time the house will be in the +thick of the fighting."</p> +<p>"It has been in the thick of the fighting before," she said, +with a gesture of impatience.</p> +<p>"Not this kind of fighting, Marta," he proceeded very soberly. +"Other wars are no criterion for this. I know about the defences of +the tangent because I helped to plan them. In order to keep the +enemy in ignorance we have made no permanent fortifications. But +the engineers and the material will be ready, instantly the +frontier is closed to intelligence, to construct defences suited to +a delaying and punishing action. Every human being will be subject +to martial law; every resource at military command. Every hill, +house, ditch, and tree will be used as cover or protection and will +be subject to attack."</p> +<p>Not argument this, but the marshalling of facts of the kind in +which he dealt as unanswerable evidence, while she listened with a +still face and dilating eyes that did not look at him until he had +finished. Then a smile came, a faint, drawn smile of irony, and her +eyes staring into his were chilling and greenish-black in their +anger.</p> +<p>"And the house of a friend meant nothing! It was only fuel for +the hell you devise!" she said, making each word count like shot +singing over glare ice.</p> +<p>"It is only fair to myself to say that when I laid the sheets of +my map before Partow I had excluded your house and grounds," he +pleaded in defence. "His thumb pounced on that telltale blank +space. 'A key-point! So this is your tendon of Achilles, eh?' he +said in his blunt fashion."</p> +<p>"The blunt fashion is admired by soldiers," she replied without +softening. "Yes, he could play chess with heaps of bodies! He is +worse than Westerling!"</p> +<p>"No, he would use his own premises, his brother's, his father's +if it would help. Well, then he took a pen and filled in the blank +space with the detail which is to make your house and garden the +centre of an inferno."</p> +<p>"How Christian!" breathed Marta. "I suppose he loves his +grandchildren and that they are taught the Lord's prayer!"</p> +<p>"I believe his only pastime is playing with them," admitted +Lanstron, stumbling on, trying to be loyal to Partow, to duty, to +country, no longer calm or dispassionate, but demoralized under the +lash. "He tells them that when they are grown he hopes there will +be an end of war."</p> +<p>"Worse yet—a hypocrite!"</p> +<p>"But, Marta, I never knew a man more sincere. He is working to +the same end as you—peace. If the Grays would play with fire +he would give them such a burning that they will never try again. +He would make war too horrible for practice; fix the frontier +forever where by, right it belongs; make conquest by one civilized +nation of another impossible hereafter. Yes, when it is stalemate, +when it is proved that the science of modern defence has made the +weak so strong that superior numbers cannot play the bully, then +shall we have peace in practice!"</p> +<p>"My children's prayer and Partow in the same gallery!" she +laughed stonily. "The peace of armament, not of man's superiority +to the tiger and the tarantula! And you say it all so calmly. You +picture the hell of your manufacture as coolly as if it were some +fairies' dance!"</p> +<p>"Should I be enthusiastic? Should I view the prospect with an +old-fashioned Hussar's hurrah?" he asked. "The right way is without +illusions. Let us lose our heads, cry out for glory—and then +chaos!"</p> +<p>"The heedless barbarism of ignorance intoxicated with primitive +passion versus calculating, refined, intellectual, comprehending +barbarism! I see no choice," she concluded, rising slowly in the +utter weariness of spirit that calls for the end of an +interview.</p> +<p>"Marta, you will promise not to remain at the house?" he +urged.</p> +<p>"Isn't that my affair?" she asked. "Aren't you willing to leave +even that to me after all you have been telling how you are to make +a redoubt of our lawn, inviting the shells of the enemy into our +drawing-room?"</p> +<p>What could he say in face of a hostility so resolute and armed +with the conviction of its logic? Only call up from the depths the +two passions of his life in an outburst, with all the force of his +nature in play.</p> +<p>"I love this soil, my country's soil, ours by right—-and I +love you! I would be true to both!"</p> +<p>"Love! What mockery to mention that now!" she cried chokingly. +"It's monstrous!"</p> +<p>"I—I—" He was making an effort to keep his nerves +under control.</p> +<p>This time the stiffening elbow failed. With a lurching +abruptness he swung his right hand around and seized the wrist of +that trembling, injured hand that would not be still. She could not +fail to notice the movement, and the sight was a magic that struck +anger out of her.</p> +<p>"Lanny, I am hurting you!" she cried miserably.</p> +<p>"A little," he said, will finally dominant over its servant, and +he was smiling as when, half stunned and in agony—and ashamed +of the fact—he had risen from the débris of cloth and +twisted braces. "It's all right," he concluded.</p> +<p>She threw back her arms, her head raised, with a certain abandon +as if she would bare her heart.</p> +<p>"Lanny, there have been moments when I would have liked to fly +to your arms. There have been moments when I have had the call that +comes to every woman in answer to a desire. Yet I was not ready. +When I really go it must be in a flame, in answer to your +flame!"</p> +<p>"You mean—I—."</p> +<p>But if the flame were about to burst forth she smothered it in +the spark.</p> +<p>"And all this has upset me," she went on incoherently. "We've +both been cruel without meaning to be, and we're in the shadow of a +nightmare; and next time you come perhaps all the war talk will be +over and—oh, this is enough for to-day!"</p> +<p>She turned quickly in veritable flight and hurried toward the +house. At the bend of the path she wheeled and stood facing him, a +hand tossed up and opening and closing as if she had caught a shaft +of sunshine and let it go again. Thus she would wave to him from +the veranda as he came up the terrace steps. Indelible to him this +picture, radiant of a versatile, impressionable vitality, of +capacities yet unsounded, of a downright sincerity of impulses, +faiths, and ideals which might buffet her this way and that over a +strange course. A woman unafraid of destiny; a woman too objective +yet to know herself!</p> +<p>"If it ever comes," she called, "I'll let you know! I'll fly to +you in a chariot of fire bearing my flame—I am that bold, +that brazen, that reckless! For I am not an old maid yet. They've +moved the age limit up to thirty. But you can't drill love into me +as you drill discipline into armies—no, no more than I can +argue peace into armies!"</p> +<p>For a while, motionless, Lanstron watched the point where she +had disappeared.</p> +<p>"If I had only been a bridge-builder or an engine-driver," he +thought; "anything except this beastly—"</p> +<p>But he was wool-gathering again. He pulled himself together and +started at a rapid pace for the tower, where he found Feller +sitting by the table, one leg over the other easily, engaged in the +prosaic business of sewing a button on his blouse. Lanstron rapped; +no answer. He beat a tattoo on the casing; no answer.</p> +<p>"Gustave!" he called; no answer.</p> +<p>Now he entered and touched Feller's shoulder.</p> +<p>"Hello, Lanny!" exclaimed Feller, rising and setting a chair and +breaking into a stream of talk. "That's the way they all have to do +when they want to attract my attention. I heard your voice and Miss +Galland's—having an argument in the garden, I should say. +Then I heard your step. Since I became deaf my sense of hearing has +really grown keener, just as the blind develop a keener sense of +feeling. Eh? eh?" He cupped his hand over his ear in the unctuous +enjoyment of his gift of acting. "Yes, Colonel Lanstron, would you +like to know what a perfect triumph we're going to pull off in +irises next season—but, Lanny, you seem in a hurry!"</p> +<p>"Gustave, I am ordered to headquarters by the night express and +I came to tell you that I think it means war."</p> +<p>"War! war!" Feller shouted. "Ye gods and little fishes!" In +riotous glee he seized a chair and flung it across the room. "Ye +salty, whiskery gods and ye shiny-eyed little fishes! War, do you +hear that, you plebeian trousers of the deaf gardener? War!" +Flinging the trousers after the chair, he executed a few steps. +When he had thus tempered his elation, he grasped Lanstron's arm +and, looking into his eyes with feverish resolution and hope, said: +"Oh, don't fear! I'll pull it off. And then I shall have paid +back—yes, paid back! I shall be a man who can look men in the +face again. I need not slink to the other side of the street when I +see an old friend coming for fear that he will recognize me. Yes, I +could even dare to love a woman of my own world! And—and +perhaps the uniform and the guns once more!"</p> +<p>"You may be sure of that. Partow cannot refuse," said Lanstron, +deeply affected. After a pause he added: "But I must tell you, +Gustave, that Miss Galland, though she is willing that you remain +as a gardener, has not yet consented to our plan. She will make no +decision until war comes. Perhaps she will refuse. It is only fair +that you should know this."</p> +<p>For an instant Feller was downcast; then confidence returned at +high pitch.</p> +<p>"Trust me!" he said. "I shall persuade her!"</p> +<p>"I hope you can. It is a chance that might turn the scales of +victory—a chance that hangs in my mind stubbornly, as if +there were some fate in it. Luck, old boy!"</p> +<p>"Luck to you, Lanny! Luck and promotion!"</p> +<p>They threw their arms about each other in a vigorous +embrace.</p> +<p>"And you will keep watch that Mrs. Galland and Marta are in no +danger?"</p> +<p>"Trust me for that, too!"</p> +<p>"Then, good-by till I hear from you over the 'phone or I return +to see you after the crisis is over!" concluded Lanstron as he +hurried away.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XIII' id="XIII"></a> +<h2>XIII</h2> +<h3>BREAKING A PAPER-KNIFE</h3> +<br> +<p>Hedworth Westerling would have said twenty to one if he had been +asked the odds against war when he was parting from Marta Galland +in the hotel reception-room. Before he reached home he would have +changed them to ten to one. A scare bulletin about the Bodlapoo +affair compelling attention as his car halted to let the traffic of +a cross street pass, he bought a newspaper thrust in at the car +window that contained the answer of the government of the Browns to +a despatch of the Grays about the dispute that had arisen in the +distant African jungle. This he had already read two days +previously, by courtesy of the premier. It was moderate in tone, as +became a power that had three million soldiers against its +opponent's five; nevertheless, it firmly pointed out that the +territory of the Browns had been overtly invaded, on the pretext of +securing a deserter who had escaped across the line, by Gray +colonial troops who had raised the Gray flag in place of the Brown +flag and remained defiantly in occupation of the outpost they had +taken.</p> +<p>As yet, the Browns had not attempted to repel the aggressor by +arms for fear of complications, but were relying on the Gray +government to order a withdrawal of the Gray force and the +repudiation of a commander who had been guilty of so grave an +international affront. The surprising and illuminating thing to +Westerling was the inspired statement to the press from the Gray +Foreign Office, adroitly appealing to Gray chauvinism and +justifying the "intrepidity" of the Gray commander in response to +so-called "pin-pricking" exasperations.</p> +<p>At the door of his apartment, François, his valet and +factotum, gave Westerling a letter.</p> +<p>"Important, sir," said François.</p> +<p>Westerling knew by a glance that it was, for it was addressed +and marked "Personal" in the premier's own handwriting. A +conference for ten that evening was requested in a manner that left +no doubt of its urgency.</p> +<p>"Let me see, do I dine at the Countess Zalinski's to-night?" +asked Westerling. Both François and his personal aide kept a +list of his appointments.</p> +<p>"Not to-night, sir. To-night you—" said +François.</p> +<p>"Good!" thought Westerling. "No excuses will be necessary to +Marie in order to be at the premier's by ten."</p> +<p>Curiosity made him a little ahead of time, but he found the +premier awaiting him in his study, free from interruption or +eavesdropping.</p> +<p>In the shadow of the table lamp the old premier looked his +years. His definite features were easy material for the +caricaturist, who does not deal in halftones. A near view of them +was not attractive. They had the largeness which impresses the +gallery from the floor of a parliamentary chamber, where delicate +lines of sensibility and character lack the quality which the actor +supplies with his make-up. As is often the case with elderly +statesmen, his face seemed like that of the crowd done boldly as a +single face, while his shrewd eyes in a bed of crow's-feet, when +they lighted to their purpose in confidence, expressed his +understanding of the crowd and its thoughts and how it may be +led.</p> +<p>From youth he had been in politics, ever a bold figure and a +daring player, but now beginning to feel the pressure of younger +men's elbows. Fonder even of power, which had become a habit, than +in his twenties, he saw it slipping from his grasp at an age when +the 'downfall of his government meant that he should never hold the +reins again. He had been called an ambitious demagogue and a +makeshift opportunist by his enemies, but the crowd liked him for +his ready strategy, his genius for appealing phrases, and for the +gambler's virtue which hitherto had made him a good loser.</p> +<p>"You saw our <i>communiqué</i> to-night that went with +the publication of the Browns' despatch?" he remarked.</p> +<p>"Yes, and I was glad that I had been careful to send a spirited +commander to that region," Westerling replied.</p> +<p>"So you guess my intention, I see." The premier smiled. He +picked up a long, thin ivory paper-knife and softly patted the palm +of his hand with it. "We have had many discussions, you and I, +Westerling," he said. "But to-night I'm going to ask categorical +questions. They may take us over old ground, but they are the +questions of the nation to the army."</p> +<p>"Certainly!" Westerling replied in his ready, confident +manner.</p> +<p>"We hear a great deal about the precision and power of modern +arms as favoring the defensive," said the premier. "I have read +somewhere that it will enable the Browns to hold us back, despite +our advantage of numbers. Also, that they can completely man every +part of their frontier and that their ability to move their +reserves rapidly, thanks to modern facilities, makes a powerful +flanking attack in surprise out of the question."</p> +<p>"Some half-truths in that," answered Westerling. "One axiom, +that must hold good through all time, is that the aggressive which +keeps at it always wins. We take the aggressive. In the space where +Napoleon deployed a division, we deploy a battalion to-day. The +precision and power of modern arms require this. With such immense +forces and present-day tactics, the line of battle will practically +cover the length of the frontier. Along their range the Browns have +a series of fortresses commanding natural openings for our attack. +These are almost impregnable. But there are pregnable points +between them. Here, our method will be the same that the Japanese +followed and that they learned from European armies. We shall +concentrate in masses and throw in wave after wave of attack until +we have gained the positions we desire. Once we have a tenable +foothold on the crest of the range the Brown army must fall back +and the rest will be a matter of skilful pursuit."</p> +<p>The premier, as he listened, rolled the paper-knife over and +over, regarding its polished sides, which were like Westerling's +manner of facile statement of a programme certain of +fulfilment.</p> +<p>"We can win, then? We can go to their capital, or far enough to +force a great indemnity, the annexation of one of their provinces, +perhaps, and the taking over of their African colonies, which we +can develop so much better than they?"</p> +<p>Westerling took care to show none of the eagerness which had set +his pulses humming.</p> +<p>"To their capital!" he declared decisively. "Nothing less. For +that I have planned."</p> +<p>"And the cost in lives?"</p> +<p>"Five or six hundred thousand casualties, which means about a +hundred thousand killed."</p> +<p>"Ghastly! The population of a good-sized city!" exclaimed the +premier.</p> +<p>"A small percentage out of five million soldiers; a smaller out +of eighty million population," Westerling returned.</p> +<p>"And how long do you think the war would last? How long the +strain on our finances, the suspense to the markets?"</p> +<p>"About a month. We shall go swiftly. The completeness of modern +preparation must make a war of to-day brief between two great +powers. We must win with a rush, giving the defenders no breathing +spell, pouring masses after masses upon the critical +positions."</p> +<p>"How long will it take to mobilize?"</p> +<p>"Less than a week after the railroads are put entirely at our +service, with three preceding days of scattered movements," +answered Westerling. "Deliberate mobilizations are all right for a +diplomatic threat that creates a furore in the newspapers and a +depression in the stock-market, but which is not to be carried out. +When you mean war, all speed and the war fever at white heat."</p> +<p>"Therefore, there would be little time for the public to hoard +money or to provoke a panic. The government, knowing precisely what +was before it, could take severe preventive measures."</p> +<p>"But I may say that we should strike before mobilization is +complete. A day will be required to take the La Tir tangent and +other outlying positions. The 128th and other regiments who will do +this work are already at the front. They were chosen because they +came from distant provinces and we can count on their patriotic +fervor for brilliant and speedy action, with resulting general +enthusiasm for the whole army, which will be up in time for the +assault on the Browns' permanent defences."</p> +<p>"You would have made a good politician, Westerling," the premier +remarked, with a twitching uplift of the brows and a knowing gleam +in his shrewd old eyes.</p> +<p>"Thank you," replied Westerling, appearing flattered, though +secretly annoyed that any one should think that a chief of staff +could care to change places with any man in the world. Governments +might come and go, but the army was the rock in the midst of the +play of minor forces, the ultimate head of order and power. "A man +who is able to lead in anything must be something of a politician," +he said suavely.</p> +<p>"Very true, indeed. Perhaps I had that partly in mind in making +you vice-chief of staff," responded the premier enjoyably. "You +spoke of the war fever at white heat," he went on, returning to his +muttons, "and of the army's enthusiasm for its work. There we come +to the kernel in the nut, eh?" he asked, as he prodded the +paper-knife into the palm of his hand.</p> +<p>"Drill, organization, discipline, and centralized authority and +a high-spirited aristocracy of officers are most important," said +Westerling. "But after that come morale and the psychology of the +soldier." There he shrugged slightly, in indication of a resentment +at the handicap of human nature in his work. "The business of a +soldier is to risk death in the way he is told. The keener he is +for his cause the better. An ideal soldier is he who does not think +for himself, but observes every detail of training and will not +stop until halted by orders or a bullet. Therefore we want the army +hot with desire. The officers of a company cannot force their men +forward. Without insubordination or mutiny the men may stop from +lack of interest after only a very small percentage of loss."</p> +<p>"Lack of interest!" mused the premier. But Westerling, +preoccupied with the literal exposition of his subject, did not +catch the flash of passing satire before the premier, his features +growing hard and challenging, spoke in another strain: "Then it all +goes back to the public—to that enormous body of humanity out +there!" He swung the paper-knife around with outstretched arm +toward the walls of the room. "To public opinion—as does +everything else in this age—to the people! I have seen them +pressing close, about to remove me from power, and I have started a +diversion which made them forget the object of their displeasure. I +have thought them won one day, and the next I realized that they +were going against me. Thank Heaven for the brevity of their +memory, or we leaders would be hung high by our own +inconsistencies! He who leads sees which way they will go, rushes +to the head of the procession, discovers them to themselves and +turns a corner and they follow, thinking that they are going +straight to the point. But always they are there, never older, +never younger, never tiring—there, smiling or scowling or +forgetting all about you, only to have a sudden fierce reminder +overnight to surprise you—and our masters, yours and mine! +For no man can stand against them when they say no or yes."</p> +<p>"You know the keys to play on, though," remarked Westerling with +a complimentary smile. "No one knows quite so well."</p> +<p>"I ought to," replied the premier. "That was the purpose of the +semi-official <i>communiqué</i> about Bodlapoo, which, of +course, we can repudiate later, if need be. I saw that the +brilliant forced march of our commander had excited popular +enthusiasm. It does not matter if he were in the wrong. Will race +feeling rise to the pitch of war from this touchstone with the +proper urging? Of course, the impulse must come from the people +themselves. We must seem to resist it, the better to arouse it." He +bent the paper-knife into a bow with fingers that were rigid. +"Times are hard, factions are bitter, our cabinet is in danger, +with economic and political chaos from overpopulation in sight," he +continued. "We hunger for land, for fresh opportunities for +development. An outburst of patriotism, concentrating every thought +of the nation on war!—is that the way out?"</p> +<p>Westerling had only answered questions so far. Here was his cue +for argument.</p> +<p>"We were never so ready," he said. "War must come some time. We +should choose the moment, not leave it to chance. The nation needs +war as a stimulant, as a corrective, as a physician. We grow stale; +we think of our domestic troubles. The old racial passions are +weakening and with them our virility. Victory will make room for +millions in the place of the thousands who fall. The indemnity will +bring prosperity. Because we have had no war, because the long +peace has been abnormal, is the reason you have all this agitation +and all these strikes. They will be at an end. Those who are fit to +rule will be in power."</p> +<p>"And you are sure—sure we can win?" the premier asked with +a long, tense look at Westerling, who was steady under the +scrutiny.</p> +<p>"Absolutely!" he answered. "Five millions against three! It's +mathematics, or our courage and skill are not equal to theirs +Absolutely! We have the power, why not use it? We do not live in a +dream age!"</p> +<p>The premier sank deeper in his chair. He was silent, thinking. +He who had carried off so many great coups with rare ease was on +the threshold of one that made them all seem petty. He had heard +random talk that some of the officers of the staff considered +Westerling to be lath painted to look like steel. There was a +reported remark by Turcas, his assistant, implying that the ability +to achieve a position did not mean the ability to fill it. +Jealousy, no doubt; the jealousy of rivals! The premier himself was +used to having members of his own cabinet ever on the watch for the +vulnerable spot in his back, which he had never allowed them to +find. Yet, there was the case of Louis Napoleon. He had the ability +to achieve a position; he had been the lath painted to look like +steel. He had all the externals which the layman associates with +victory until he went to the supreme test, which ripped him into +slivers of rotten wood. The little Napoleon had been one of the +premier's favorite bugaboo examples of stage realism tried out in +real life. But it was ridiculous to compare him with the stalwart +figure sitting across the table, who had spoken the language of +materialism without illusion.</p> +<p>Westerling's ambition on edge communicated itself to the +premier, whose soft hands, long since divorced from any labor +except official hand-shaking and the exercise of authority, were +bending the paper-knife with unconscious vigor.</p> +<p>"All the achievements of power form only a dull background for +victory in war to a people's imagination!" he exclaimed. "Your name +and mine to symbolize an age! What power for us! What power for the +nation!"</p> +<p>From a sudden, unwitting exertion of his strength the knife +which had been the recipient of his emotions snapped in two. Rather +carefully he laid the pieces on the table before he rose and turned +to Westerling, his decision made.</p> +<p>"If the people respond with the war fever, then it is war!" he +said. "I take you at your word that you will win!"</p> +<p>Westerling's chair creaked with the tense drawing of his muscles +in the impulse of delight. He had gained the great purpose; but +there was another and vital one on his programme.</p> +<p>"A condition!" he announced. "From the moment war begins the +army is master of all intelligence, all communication, all +resources. Everything we require goes into the crucible!"</p> +<p>"And the press—the mischievous, greedy, but very useful +press?" asked the premier.</p> +<p>"It also shall serve; also obey. No lists of killed and wounded +shall be given out until I am ready. The public must know nothing +except what I choose to tell. I act for the people and the +nation."</p> +<p>"That is agreed," said the premier. "For these terrible weeks +every nerve and muscle of the nation is at your service to win for +the nation. In three or four days I shall know if the public rises +to the call. If not—" He shook his head.</p> +<p>"While all the information given out is provocative to our +people, you will declare your hope that war may be averted," +Westerling continued. "This will screen our purpose. Finally, on +top of public enthusiasm will come the word that the Browns have +fired the first shot—as they must when we cross the +frontier—that they have been killing our soldiers. This will +make the racial spirit of every man respond. Having decided for +war, every plan is worthy that helps to victory."</p> +<p>"It seems fiendish!" exclaimed the premier in answer to a +thought eddying in the powerful current of his brain. "Fiendish +with calculation, but merciful, as you say."</p> +<p>"A fast, terrific campaign! A ready machine taking the road!" +Westerling declared. "Less suffering than if we went to war +carelessly for a long campaign—than if we allowed sentiment +to interfere with intellect."</p> +<p>"I like your energy, your will!" said the premier admiringly. +"And about the declaration of war? We shall time that to your +purpose."</p> +<p>"Declarations of war before striking, by nations taking the +aggressive, are a disadvantage," Westerling explained. "They are +going out of practice. Witness the examples of Japan against Russia +and the Balkan allies against Turkey. In these days declarations +are not necessary as a warning of what is going to happen. They +belong to the etiquette of fencers."</p> +<p>"Yes, exactly. The declaration of war and the ambassador's +passports will be prepared and the wire that fighting has begun +will release them," agreed the premier. "Another thing," he added, +"there is the question of the opinion of the world as represented +by The Hague and the peace societies. This government has always +expressed sympathy with their ideas."</p> +<p>"Naturally," Westerling put in. "We shall use hand-grenades, +explosives from dirigibles, every known power of destruction. So +will the Browns, you may be sure. In such a cataclysm we shall have +no time for niceties. The peace societies will have hardly +formulated their protests to The Hague before the war is over. Our +answer will be our victory—the power that goes with the +prestige of unconquerable force. Victory, nothing but victory +counts!"</p> +<p>Westerling was speaking by the book, expressing the ideas that +he had again and again rehearsed as a part of the preparation, the +eternal preparation for the sudden emergency of war, which is the +duty of the staff. So letter-perfect was he in his lines that a +layman might have scouted his realization of the enormousness of +his responsibility.</p> +<p>"Yet if we did lose! If when I had given you all you ask your +plans went wrong! If our army were broken to pieces on the frontier +and then the nation, kept in ignorance of events, learned the +truth"—the premier enunciated slowly and pointedly while he +locked glances with Westerling—"that is the end for us both. +You would hardly want to return to the capital to face public +wrath!"</p> +<p>"We must win though we lose a million men!" he answered. "I +stake my life!" he cried hoarsely, striking his fist on the +table.</p> +<p>"You stake your life!" repeated the premier with slow +emphasis.</p> +<p>"Bravado hardly becomes a chief of staff. His place is not under +fire," Westerling explained. "However, I mean to make my +headquarters at La Tir, immediately we have taken it, for the +effect of having the leader of the army promptly established on +conquered territory."</p> +<p>"I understand that," replied the premier. "But still you stake +your life? That is the greatest thing a man has to stake. You stake +your life on victory?" he demanded fiercely.</p> +<p>"I do!" said Westerling. "Yes, my life. We cannot fail!"</p> +<p>"Then it will be war, if the people want it!" said the premier. +"I shall not resist their desire!" he added in his official manner, +at peace with his conscience.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XIV' id="XIV"></a> +<h2>XIV</h2> +<h3>IN PARTOW'S OFFICE</h3> +<br> +<p>Partow was a great brain set on an enormous body. Partow's eyes +had the fire of youth at sixty-five, but the pendulous flesh of his +cheeks was pasty. Partow was picturesque; he was a personality with +a dome forehead sweeping back nobly to scattered and contentious, +short gray hairs. Jealousy and faction had endeavored for years to +remove him from his position at the head of the army on account of +age. New governments decided as they came in that he must go, and +they went out with him still in the saddle. He worked fourteen +hours a day, took no holidays and little exercise, violated the +rules of health, and never appeared at gold-braid functions. The +business of official display, as he said pungently, he delegated to +that specialist, his handsome vice-chief of staff.</p> +<p>He had set up no silhouette of a charging soldier peppered with +bullet marks on the wall of his office, for this was a picture that +he carried in his mind. Pertinent to his own taste, under the +glance of the portraits of the old heroes, was a little statuette +of a harvester called Toil on his desk.</p> +<p>"That's the fellow we're defending," he would say, becoming +almost rhapsodical. "I like to think back to him. He's the infantry +before you put him in uniform."</p> +<p>Let officers apply themselves with conspicuous energy and they +heard from a genial Partow; let officers only keep step and free of +courts martial, and they heard from a merciless taskmaster. Resign, +please, if you like a leisurely life, he told the idlers; and he +had a way of making them so uncomfortable that they would take the +advice. Among the sons of rest who had retired to mourn over the +world going to the devil he was referred to as not being a +gentleman, which amused him; some said that he was crazy, which +amused him even more.</p> +<p>Peculiarly human, peculiarly dictatorial, dynamic, and +inscrutable was Partow, who never asked any one under him to work +harder than himself.</p> +<p>Lanstron appeared in the presence of Jove shortly after eight +o'clock the next morning after he left La Tir. Jove rolled his big +head on his short neck in a nod and said:</p> +<p>"Late!"</p> +<p>"The train was late, sir!"</p> +<p>"And you have disobeyed orders!" grumbled Partow.</p> +<p>"Disobeyed orders? How, sir?"</p> +<p>"And you look me in the eye as you always do! You think that +excuses you, perhaps?"</p> +<p>"No, sir. But I am bound to ask what orders?"</p> +<p>"Well, not orders, but my instructions; at least, my desire. +Flying yourself—directing a man[oe]uvre—racing the +Grays!"</p> +<p>"You heard about it?"</p> +<p>"I hear about everything! I have told you not to risk your life. +Lives are assets of various kinds in an army. It is my business to +determine the relative value of those of my subordinates. You are +not to sacrifice yours."</p> +<p>"I haven't yet, sir. I have it with me this morning," Lanstron +replied, "and I have some news about our thousandth chance."</p> +<p>"Hm-m! What is it?" asked Partow. When Lanstron had told the +story, Partow worked his lips in a way he had if he were struck by +a passing reflection which might or might not have a connection +with the subject in hand. "Strange about her when you consider who +her parents were!" he said. "But you never know. His son," nodding +to Toil, "might be a great painter or a snob. Miss Galland has an +idea—that's something—and character and a brain making +arrows so fast that she shoots them into the blue just for mental +relief. She's quite a woman. If I were thirty, and single, I +believe I'd fall in love with her. But don't you dare tell Mrs. +Partow. I want the fun of telling her myself. Hm-m! Why don't you +sit down, young man?"</p> +<p>Partow turned his thick, white palm toward a chair, and his +smile, now clearly showing that he was not deeply offended with +Lanstron's insubordination, had a singular charm. The smile +vanished as Lanstron seated himself and in its place came such a +look as friend Toil had seen on very rare occasions.</p> +<p>"The way that the Grays gave out our despatch convinces me of +their intentions," Partow said. "Their people are rising to it and +ours are rising in answer. The Grays have been transferring +regiments from distant provinces to their frontier because they +will fight better in an invasion. We are transferring home +regiments to our frontier because they will fight for their own +property. By Thursday you will find that open mobilization on both +sides has begun."</p> +<p>"My department is ready," said Lanstron, "all except your +decision about press censorship."</p> +<p>"A troublesome point," responded Partow. "I have procrastinated +because two definite plans were fully worked out. It is a matter of +choice between them: either publicity or complete secrecy. You know +I am no believer in riding two horses at once. My mind is about +made up; but let me hear your side again. Sometimes I get +conviction by probing another mans."</p> +<p>Lanstron was at his best, for his own conviction was +intense.</p> +<p>"Of course they will go in for secrecy; but our case is +different," he began.</p> +<p>Partow settled himself to listen with the gift of the organizer +who draws from his informant the brevity of essentials.</p> +<p>"I should take the people into our confidence," Lanstron +proceeded. "I should make them feel that we were one family +fighting for all we hold dear against the invader. If our losses +are heavy, if we have a setback, then the inspiration of the +heroism of those who have fallen and the danger of their own homes +feeling the foot of the invader next will impel the living to +greater sacrifices. For the Grays are in the wrong. The moral and +the legal right is with us."</p> +<p>"And the duty of men like you and me, chosen for the purpose," +said Partow, "is worthily to direct the courage that goes with +moral right. The overt act of war must come from them by violating +our frontier, not in the African jungle but here. Even when the +burglar fingers the window-sash we shall not fire—no, not +until he enters our house. When he does, you would have a message +go out to our people that will set them quivering with +indignation?"</p> +<p>"Yes, and I would let the names of our soldiers who fall first +be known and how they fell, their backs to their frontier homes and +their faces to the foe."</p> +<p>"Our very liberality in giving news will help us to cover the +military secrets which we desire to preserve," Partow said, with +slow emphasis. "We shall hold back what we please, confident of the +people's trust. Good policy that, yes! But enough! Your orders are +ready, in detail, I believe. You have nothing to add?"</p> +<p>"No, sir, nothing; at least, not until war begins."</p> +<p>"Very well. We shall have the orders issued at the proper +moment," concluded Partow. "And Westerling is going to find," he +proceeded after a thoughtful pause, "that a man is readier to die +fighting to hold his own threshold than fighting to take another +man's. War is not yet solely an affair of machinery and numbers. +The human element is still uppermost. I know something, perhaps, +that Westerling does not know. I have had an experience that he has +not had and that few active officers of either army have +had—I have been under fire."</p> +<p>His eyes flashed with the memory of his charge, and visions of +the day when Grandfather Fragini was a <i>beau sabreur</i> and +Marta Galland's father toasted quick death and speedy promotion +seemed to cluster around him.</p> +<p>"Experience plus an old man's honest effort for a mind open to +all suggestion and improvements!" he exclaimed. "An open mind that +let you have your way in equipping more dirigibles and planes than +Westerling guesses we have, eh? And, perhaps, a few more guns! And +you, too, have been under fire," he added. "Give me your +hand—no, not that one, not the one you shake hands +with—the one wounded in action!"</p> +<p>Partow enclosed the stiffened fingers in his own with something +of the caress which an old bear that is in very good humor might +give to a promising cub.</p> +<p>"I have planned, planned, planned for this time," he said. "I +have played politics with statesmen to hold my place in the belief +that I was the man for the work which I have done. The world shall +soon know, as the elements of it go into the crucible test, whether +it is well done or not. I want to live to see the day when the last +charge made against our trenches is beaten back. Then they may +throw this old body onto the rubbish heap as soon as they +please—it is a fat, unwieldy behemoth of an old body!"</p> +<p>"No, no, it isn't!" Lanstron objected hotly. He was seeing only +what most people saw after talking with Partow for a few minutes, +his fine, intelligent eyes and beautiful forehead.</p> +<p>"All that I wanted of the body was to feed my brain," Partow +continued, heedless of the interruption. "I have watched my mind as +a navigator watches a barometer. I have been ready at the first +sign that it was losing its grip to give up. Yet I have felt that +my body would go on feeding my brain and that to the last moment of +consciousness, when suddenly the body collapses, I should have +self-possession and energy of mind. Under the coming strain the +shock may come, as a cord snaps. At that instant my successor will +take up my work where I leave it off."</p> +<p>"Goerwitz, you mean." Lanstron referred in unmistakable +apprehension to the vice-chief of staff, whom all the army knew had +no real ability or decision underneath his pleasing, confident +exterior.</p> +<p>"No, not Goerwitz," said Partow, with a shrug. "Some one who +will go on with the weaving, not by knotting threads but with the +same threads in a smooth fabric." Lanstron felt an increased +pressure of the hand, a communicated tingling to his nerves. "I +have chosen him. The old fogy who has aimed to join experience to +youth chooses youth. You took your medicine without grumbling in +the disagreeable but vitally important position of chief of +intelligence. Now you—there, don't tremble with stage +fright!" For Lanstron's hand was quivering in Partow's grasp, while +his face was that of a man stunned.</p> +<p>"But Goerwitz—what will he say?" he gasped.</p> +<p>"Goerwitz goes to a division in reserve."</p> +<p>"And the army! The government! What will they say at +such—such a jump for a colonel?"</p> +<p>"The government leaves all to me from the day war begins. I +shall transfer others than Goerwitz—others who have had +influence with the premier which it was not wise to deny in time of +peace."</p> +<p>"Very well, sir," answered Lanstron, with a subordinate's +automatic consent to a superior's orders. His words sounded +ridiculous in view of his feelings, yet they were more expressive +than any florid speech.</p> +<p>"You are to be at the right hand of this old body," continued +Partow. "You are to go with me to the front; to sleep in the room +next to mine; to be always at my side, and, finally, you are to +promise that if ever the old body fails in its duty to the mind, if +ever you see that I am not standing up to the strain, you are to +say so to me and I give you my word that I shall let you take +charge."</p> +<p>Lanstron was too stunned to speak for a moment. The arrangement +seemed a hideous joke: a refinement of cruelty inconceivable. It +was expecting him to tell Atlas that he was old and to take the +weight of the world off the giant's shoulders.</p> +<p>"Have you lost your patriotism?" demanded Partow. "Are you +afraid? Afraid to tell me the truth? Afraid of duty? Afraid in your +youth of the burden that I bear in age?"</p> +<p>His fingers closed in on Lanstron's with such force that the +grip was painful.</p> +<p>"Promise!" he commanded.</p> +<p>"I promise!" Lanstron said with a throb.</p> +<p>"That's it' That's the way! That's the kind of soldier I like," +Partow declared with change of tone, and he rose from his chair +with a spring that was a delight to Lanstron in its proof of the +physical vigor so stoutly denied. "We have a lot to say to each +other to-day," he added; "but first I am going to show you the +whole bag of tricks."</p> +<p>His arm crooked in Lanstron's, they went along the main corridor +of the staff office hung with portraits of generals who had beaten +or held their own with the Grays. Passing through a door for which +Partow held the key, they were in a dim, narrow passage with bare +walls, lighted by two small gas flames. At the end was another, a +heavy steel door, of the sort associated with the protection of +bonds and securities, but in this case for the security of a +nation's defence. Partow turned the knob of the combination back +and forth and with the smooth swing of a great weight on noiseless +hinges the door opened and they entered a vault having a single +chair and a small table in the centre and lined by sections of +numbered pigeonholes, each with a combination lock At the base of +one section was a small safe. It was not the first time that +Lanstron had been in this vault. He had the combination of two of +the sections of pigeonholes, aerostatics and intelligence. The rest +belonged to other divisions.</p> +<p>"The safe is my own, as you know. No one opens it; no one knows +what is in it but me," said Partow, taking from it an envelope and +a manuscript, which he laid on the table. "There you have all that, +is in my brain—the whole plan. The envelope contains the +combinations of all the pigeonholes, if you wish to look up any +details."</p> +<p>"Thank you!" Lanstron half whispered. It was all he could think +of to say.</p> +<p>"And you will find that there is more than you thought, perhaps: +the reason why I have fought hard to remain chief of staff; +why—" Partow continued in a voice that had the sepulchral +uncanniness of a threat long nursed now breaking free of the +bondage of years within the sound-proof walls. "But—" he +broke off suddenly as if he distrusted even the security of the +vault. "Yes, it is all there—my life's work, my dream, my +ambition, my plan!"</p> +<p>Lanstron heard the lock slide in the door as Partow went out and +he was alone with the army's secrets. As he read Partow's firm +handwriting, many parts fell together, many moves on a chess-board +grew clear. His breath came faster, he bent closer over the table, +he turned back pages to go over them again. Every sentence dropped +home in his mind like a bolt in a socket.</p> +<p>When he had finished the manuscript the trance of his thoughts +held him in the same attitude. "Five millions to our three!" a +voice kept repeating to him. "In face of that this dream!" another +voice was saying. Had it been right to intrust such responsibility +to one man of Partow's age and right to transfer that +responsibility to himself in an emergency? Yet how clear the plan +in the confidence of its wisdom! Unconscious of the passage of +time, he did not hear the door open or realize Partow's presence +until he felt Partow's hand on his shoulder.</p> +<p>"I see that you didn't look into any of the pigeonholes," the +chief of staff observed.</p> +<p>Lanstron pressed his finger-tips on the manuscript +significantly.</p> +<p>"No. It is all there!"</p> +<p>"The thing being to carry it out!" said Partow. "God with us!" +he added devoutly.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XV' id="XV"></a> +<h2>XV</h2> +<h3>CLOSE TO THE WHITE POSTS</h3> +<br> +<p>Have you forgotten Hugo Mallin, humorist of Company B of the +128th Regiment of the Grays, whom we left in their barracks under +orders for South La Tir on the afternoon that Westerling called on +Marta Galland? Have you forgotten Eugene Aronson, the farmer's son, +and Jacob Pilzer, the butcher's son, and pasty-faced little +Peterkin, the valet's son, and the judge's son, and the other +privates of the group that surrounded Hugo Mallin as he aired +heresies that set them laughing?</p> +<p>Through the press, an unconscious instrument of his purpose, the +astute premier has inoculated them with the virus of militant +patriotism. Day by day the crisis has become more acute; day by day +the war fever has risen in their veins. Big Eugene Aronson believes +everything he reads; his country can do no wrong. Jacob Pilzer is +most bellicose; he chafes at inaction, while they all suffer the +discomforts of an empty factory building in the rear of South La +Tir which has become a temporary barracks.</p> +<p>On Tuesday they hear of crowds around the Foreign Office +demanding war, on Wednesday of panics on the stock exchanges, on +Thursday of mobilization actually begun and a rigid press +censorship established, and on Friday other regiments and guns and +horses are detraining and departing right and left. Hurrying +officers know nothing except what they have been told to do.</p> +<p>"When do we start? What are we waiting for?" demanded Pilzer. "I +want to be in the thick of the fighting and not trailing along with +the reserves!" If any one in the 128th wins the bronze cross he +means that it shall be he and not Eugene Aronson.</p> +<p>"Never mind, you'll have a chance. There'll be war enough to go +around, I am sure!" said Hugo Mallin.</p> +<p>"More than you'll want!" Pilzer shot back, thrusting out his +jaw.</p> +<p>"I'm sure of that!" answered Hugo, the mask of his face drawn in +quizzical solemnity. "I don't want any at all."</p> +<p>This brought a tremendous laugh. All the laughs had been +tremendous since mobilization had begun in earnest, and the +atmosphere was like the suspense before a thunder-storm breaks.</p> +<p>On Saturday evening the 128th was mustered in field +accoutrements and a full supply of cartridges. In the darkness the +first battalion marched out at right angles to the main road that +ran through La Tir and South La Tir. At length Company B, deployed +in line of skirmishers, lay down to sleep on its arms.</p> +<p>"We wait here for the word," Fracasse, the captain, whispered to +his senior lieutenant. "If it comes, our objective is the house and +the old castle on the hill above the town."</p> +<p>The tower of the church showed dimly when a pale moon broke +through a cloud. By its light Hugo saw on his right Eugene's big +features and massive shoulders and on his left the pinched and +characterless features of Peterkin. A few yards ahead was a white +stone post.</p> +<p>"That's their side over there!" whispered the banker's son, who +was next to Peterkin.</p> +<p>"When we cross war begins," said the manufacturer's son.</p> +<p>"I wonder if they are expecting us!" said the judge's son a +trifle huskily, in an attempt at humor, though he was not given to +humor.</p> +<p>"Just waiting to throw bouquets!" whispered the laborer's son. +He, too, was not given to humor and he, too, spoke a trifle +huskily.</p> +<p>"And we'll fix bayonets when we start and they will run at the +sight of our steel!" said Eugene Aronson. He and Hugo alone, not +excepting Pilzer, the butcher's son, spoke in their natural voices. +The others were trying to make their voices sound natural, while +Pilzer's voice had developed a certain ferocity, and the liver +patch on his cheek twitched more frequently. "Why, Company B is in +front! We have the post of honor, and maybe our company will win +the most glory of any in the regiment!" Eugene added. "Oh, we'll +beat them! The bullet is not made that will get me!"</p> +<p>"Your service will be over in time for you to help with the +spring planting, Eugene," whispered Hugo, who was apparently +preoccupied with many detached thoughts.</p> +<p>"And you to be at home sucking lollipops!" Pilzer growled to +Hugo.</p> +<p>"That would be better than murdering my fellowman to get his +property," Hugo answered, so soberly that it did not seem to his +comrades that he was joking this time. Pilzer's snarling +exclamation of "White feather!" came in the midst of a chorus of +indignation.</p> +<p>Captain Fracasse, who had heard only the disturbance without +knowing the cause, interfered in a low, sharp tone:</p> +<p>"Silence! As I have told you before, silence! We don't want them +to know that we are here. Go to sleep! You may get no rest +to-morrow night!"</p> +<p>But little Peterkin, the question in his mind breaking free of +his lips, unwittingly asked:</p> +<p>"Shall—shall we fight in the morning?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. Nobody knows!" answered Fracasse. "We wait on +orders, ready to do our duty. There may be no war. Don't let me +hear another peep from you!"</p> +<p>Now all closed their eyes. In front of them was vast silence +which seemed to stretch from end to end of the frontier, while to +the rear was the rumble of switching railway trains and the rumble +of provision trains and artillery on the roads, and in the distance +on the plain the headlight of a locomotive cut a swath in the black +night. But the breathing of most of the men was not that of +slumber, though Eugene and Pilzer slept soundly. Hours passed. +Occasional restless movements told of efforts to force sleep by +changing position.</p> +<p>"It's the waiting that's sickening!" exploded the manufacturer's +son under his breath, desperately.</p> +<p>"So I say. I'd like to be at it and done with the suspense!" +said the doctor's son.</p> +<p>"They say if you are shot through the head you don't know what +killed you, it's so quick. Think of that!" exclaimed Peterkin, +huddling closer to Hugo and shivering.</p> +<p>"Yes, very merciful," Hugo whispered, patting Peterkin's +arm.</p> +<p>"Sh-h-h! Silence, I tell you!" commanded Fracasse crossly. He +was falling into a half doze at last.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XVI' id="XVI"></a> +<h2>XVI</h2> +<h3>DELLARME'S MEN GET A MASCOT</h3> +<br> +<p>And have you forgotten gigantic Private Stransky, born to the +red, with the hedgerows of the world his home? Have you forgotten +Tom Fragini and the sergeant and the others of Captain Dellarme's +men of the 53d of the Browns, whom we left marching along the road +to La Tir, with old Grandfather Fragini, veteran of the Hussars, in +his faded uniform coat with his medal on his breast, keeping step, +hep-hep-hep?</p> +<p>Grandfather Fragini has attached himself to the regiment while +it rests in barracks a few hours' march from the frontier. He is +accepted as the mascot of the company in which both his grandson +and Stransky are serving. But he never speaks to Stransky and +refers to him in the third person as "that traitor," which makes +Stransky grin sardonically. Each day's developments bring more +color to his cheeks; his rheumatic old legs are limbering with the +elixir of rising patriotism, though Tom and his comrades are +singularly without enthusiasm, according to grandfather's idea. +They lead the newspapers gluttonously and they welcome each item +that promises a peaceful solution of the crisis.</p> +<p>Inwardly, Grandfather Fragini is worried about the state of the +army. Is his race becoming decadent? Or, as he puts it, are the +younger generation without sand in their craws? When he came into +the barracks yard swinging his cap aloft and shouting the news that +mobilization had begun there was not even a cheer.</p> +<p>"I suppose it means war," said Tom Fragini with a soberness that +was in keeping with the grave faces of his fellows. Stransky +sitting at one side by himself smiled.</p> +<p>"Well, you'd think it was a funeral!" grandfather exclaimed in +disgust.</p> +<p>"There will be lots of funerals!" said Tom.</p> +<p>"I s'pose there will be; but if you get that in your mind how +can you fight?" grandfather demanded. "Why, if any Hussar had +spoken of funerals we'd called him white-livered, that's what we +would! We cheered till we was hoarse; we danced and hugged one +another; we rattled our sabres in our scabbards; we sang +rip-roaring death-or-glory songs. When you're going to war you want +to sing and shout. That's the way to keep your spirits up."</p> +<p>"Let's sing 'Ring-around-the-rosy' to please the old gentleman. +Come on!" suggested Stransky.</p> +<p>"I don't see that we are after either death or glory," said Tom. +"We are going to do our duty."</p> +<p>The impulse of enthusiasm seemed equally lacking in the others. +Stransky grinned and his deep-set eyes turned inward with a squint +of knowing satisfaction at the bony bridge of his nose.</p> +<p>"I'm not wanting any traitor to start any songs for me!" +declared grandfather.</p> +<p>"Never mind. The fellows on the other side aren't any more +enthusiastic than we are, grandfather," Stransky said soothingly, +in his mocking way. "The fact is, we don't want to kill our +brothers across the frontier and they don't want to kill us or be +killed. It's only the ruling classes that want the proletariat +to—"</p> +<p>"Fire away, Stransky! It's hours since you made a speech!" +chirruped a voice.</p> +<p>"Look out, Bert, the sergeant's coming!" another voice warned +the orator.</p> +<p>The state of mind of the 53d was that of all the regiments of +the Browns with their faces toward the white posts, quiet, +thoughtful, and grave; for they had not to arouse ardor for the +aggressive. As they were to receive rather than give blows they +might be more honest with themselves than the men of the Grays.</p> +<p>In marching order, with cartridge-boxes full, on Saturday night +the 53d marched out to the main pass road. When Grandfather Fragini +found that he had been ordered to remain behind he sought the +colonel.</p> +<p>"I've got reasons! Let me come!" he pleaded.</p> +<p>"No. It is no place for you."</p> +<p>"I can keep up! I can keep up! I feel like a boy!"</p> +<p>"But it is different these days, and this is the infantry. The +bullets carry far. You will not know how to take cover," the +colonel explained.</p> +<p>"Well, if I am killed I won't be losing much time on this +earth," grandfather observed with cool logic. "But that ain't it. +I'm worried about Tom. I'm afraid he ain't going to fight! +I—I want to stiffen him up!"</p> +<p>"He will fight, all right. Sorry, but it is out of the +question," said the colonel, turning away.</p> +<p>Grandfather buried his face in his hands and shook with the sobs +of second childhood until an idea occurred to him. Wasn't he a free +man? Hadn't he as much right as anybody to use the public highway? +Drying his eyes, he set out along the road in the wake of the +regiment.</p> +<p>One company after another left the road at a given point, bound +for the position mapped in its instructions Dellarme's, however, +went on until it was opposite the Galland house.</p> +<p>"We are depending on you," the colonel said to Dellarme, giving +his hand a grip. "You are not to draw off till you get the +flag."</p> +<p>"No, sir," Dellarme replied.</p> +<p>"Mind the signal to the batteries—keep the men +screened—warn them not to let their first baptism of shell +fire shake their nerves!" the colonel added in a final repetition +of instructions already indelibly impressed on the captain's +mind.</p> +<p>Moving cautiously through a cut, Dellarme's company came, about +midnight, to a halt among the stubble of a wheat-field behind a +knoll. After he had bidden the men to break ranks, he crept up the +incline.</p> +<p>"Yes, it's there!" he whispered when he returned. "On the crest +of the knoll a cord is stretched from stake to stake," he said, +explaining the reason for what was to be done, as was his custom. +"The engineers placed it there after dusk and the frontier was +closed, so that you would know just where to use your spades in the +dark. Quietly as possible! No talking!" he kept cautioning as the +men turned the soft earth, "and not higher than the cord, and lay +the stubble side of the sods on the reverse so as to cover the +fresh earth on the sky-line."</p> +<p>When the work was done all returned behind the knoll except the +sentries posted at intervals on the crest to watch. With the aid of +a small electric flash, screened by his hands, Dellarme again +examined a section of the staff map that outlined the contour of +the knoll in relation to the other positions. After this he wrote +in his diary the simple facts of the day's events, concluding with +a sentiment of gratitude for the honor shown to his company and a +prayer that he might keep a clear head and do his duty if war came +on the morrow.</p> +<p>"Now, every one get all the sleep he can!" he advised the +men.</p> +<p>Stransky slept, with his head on his arm, as soundly as Eugene +Aronson, his antithesis in character; the others slept no better +than the men of the 128th. The night passed without any alarm +except that of their own thoughts, and they welcomed dawn as a +relief from suspense. There was no hot coffee this morning, and +they washed down their rations with water from their canteens. The +old sergeant was lying beside Captain Dellarme on the crest, the +sunrise in their faces. As the mist cleared from the plain it +revealed the white dots of the frontier posts in the meadow and +behind them many gray figures in skirmish order, scarcely visible +except through the glasses.</p> +<p>"It looks like business!" declared the old sergeant.</p> +<p>"Yes, it begins the minute they cross the line!" said +Dellarme.</p> +<p>His glance sweeping to the rear to scan the landscape under the +light of day, he recognized, with a sense of pride and awe, the +tactical importance of his company's position in relation to that +of the other companies. Easily he made out the regimental line by +streaks of concealed trenches and groups of brown uniforms; and +here and there were the oblong, cloth stretches of waiting hospital +litters. On the reverse slope of another knoll was the farmhouse, +marked X on his map as the regimental headquarters, where he was to +watch for the signal to fall back from his first stand in delaying +the enemy's advance. Directly to the rear was the cut through which +the company had come from the main pass road, and beyond that the +Galland house, which was to be the second stand.</p> +<p>"Can you see them from up here?" chirped a voice in a jubilant, +cackling laugh that drew Dellarme's attention to his immediate +surroundings, and he saw Grandfather Fragini coming up to join him +on the crest. He slid back on his stomach below the sky-line and +held up an arresting hand.</p> +<p>"Kept along after you," piped the old man; "and it's just as I +thought—the glummest lot of funeral faces I ever seen!"</p> +<p>"You must not remain! Follow that cut there and it will take you +out to the road!" Dellarme told grandfather sharply.</p> +<p>"Just got to stay. Too tired to take another step," and +grandfather dropped in utter exhaustion. "Have to carry me if you +want me to go."</p> +<p>"That means two men out of the line," thought Dellarme.</p> +<p>"You're an archaic old fire-eater!" Stransky remarked in cynical +amusement to grandfather Fragini.</p> +<p>"And you're a traitor!" answered grandfather with all the energy +he could command.</p> +<p>Now Dellarme disposed his men in line back of the ridge of fresh +earth that they had dug in the night, ready to rush to their places +when he blew the whistle that hung from his neck, but he did not +allow them a glimpse over the crest.</p> +<p>"I know you are curious, but powerful glasses are watching for +you to show yourselves; and if a battery turned loose on us you'd +understand," he explained.</p> +<p>The men wanted to talk but did not know what to talk about, so +they examined their rifles critically as if they were unfamiliar +gifts which they had found in their stockings on Christmas morning. +Some began to empty their magazines of cartridges for the pleasure +or occupation of refilling them; but one of the lieutenants stopped +this. It might mean delay when the whistle blew. Thus the hours +wore on, and the church clock struck nine and ten.</p> +<p>"Never a movement down there!" called the sergeant from the +crest to Dellarme. "Maybe this is just their final bluff before +they come to terms about Bodlapoo"—that stretch of African +jungle that seemed very far away to them all.</p> +<p>"Let us hope so!" said Dellarme seriously.</p> +<p>"Hope there won't be any war! Just listen to that from an army +officer, with the enemy right in front of him!" gasped +grandfather.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XVII' id="XVII"></a> +<h2>XVII</h2> +<h3>A SUNDAY MORNING IN TOWN</h3> +<br> +<p>"You ought not to leave the house—not this morning," +protested Mrs. Galland when Marta was putting on her hat to start +for the regular Sunday service of her school.</p> +<p>"The children expect me," Marta explained.</p> +<p>"Hardly, hardly this morning. They will take it for granted that +you will not come."</p> +<p>But Marta thrust her hatpin home decisively.</p> +<p>"Jacky Werther will certainly be there. Though he were the only +one to come, I would not disappoint him!" she said. "Heaven knows, +mother, if there were ever a time for teaching peace it is to-day! +And I can't remain inactive. Just to sit still and wait in a time +like this—that is too terrible!"</p> +<p>"As you will!" Mrs. Galland responded with gentle +resignation.</p> +<p>Garden and veranda were as peaceful as on any other Sunday +morning, but it was a different kind of peace—a peace mocked +by sounds beyond its boundaries which were to her like the rattling +of the steel scales of a demon licking its jaws with its red tongue +in voracious anticipation of a gorge and stretching out great steel +claws in readiness to sink them into the flesh of its victims when +Partow and Westerling gave the word. As Lanstron had said, this +demon would feed on every resource and energy of the nation. It had +no voice and no thought except kill, kill, kill! And man called +this demon patriotism and love of country. Those who risked death +in the demon's honor got iron crosses and bronze crosses, but any +one who dared to call it by its true name, if a man, received the +decoration of the white feather; if a woman, was regarded as a +sentimentalist and merely a woman, and told that she did not +understand practical human nature.</p> +<p>Choosing to go to town by the castle road rather than down the +terrace to the main pass road, Marta, as she emerged from the +grounds, saw Feller, garden-shears in hand and in his workman's +clothes instead of his Sunday black, a figure of stone watching the +approach of some field-batteries. In the week of distracting and +cumulative suspense that had elapsed since his secret had been +revealed to her, their relations had continued as before. She +studiously kept up the fiction of his deafness by writing her +orders. The question of allowing him to undertake his part as a spy +had drifted into the background of her mind under the distressing +and ever-present pressure of the crisis. He was to remain until +there was war, and thought about anything that implied that war was +coming was the more hideous to her the nearer war approached.</p> +<p>"It will be averted! It cannot be!" she was thinking. Her +glimpse of him had no more interest for her at this moment of +preoccupation than any other familiar object of the landscape.</p> +<p>"The guns! The guns! How I love the guns!" he was thinking.</p> +<p>She was almost past him before he realized her presence, which +he acknowledged by a startled movement and a step forward as he +took off his hat. She paused. His eyes were glowing like coals +under a blower as he looked at her and again at the batteries, +seeming to include her with the guns in the spell of his fervid +abstraction. He was unconscious that he had ever been anything but +a soldier. His throat was athirst for words and his words craved a +listening ear for all the pictures of the machinery of war in +motion that crowded his imagination. To him the demon was a fair, +beckoning god in cloth of gold—a god of hope and fortune.</p> +<p>"Frontier closed last night to prevent intelligence about our +preparations leaking out—Lanny's plan all alive—the +guns coming," he went on, his shoulders stiffening, his chin +drawing in, his features resolute and beaming with the ardor of +youth in action—"troops moving here and there to their +places—engineers preparing the defences—automatics at +critical points with the infantry—field-wires +laid—field-telephones set up—the wireless +spitting—the caissons full—planes and dirigibles +ready—search-lights in position"</p> +<p>There the torrent of his broken sentences was checked A shadow +passed in front of him. He came out of his trance of imageries of +activities, so vividly clear to his military mind, to realize that +Marta was abruptly leaving.</p> +<p>"Miss Galland!" he called urgently. "Firing may commence at any +minute. You must not go into town!"</p> +<p>"But I must!" she declared, speaking over her shoulder while she +paused. It was clear that no warning would prevail against her +determined mood.</p> +<p>"Then I shall go with you!" he said, starting toward her with a +light step, in keeping with the gallantry of a man even younger +than his years. He spoke in a tone of protective masculine +authority, as an officer might to a woman of whom he was fond when +he saw her exposing herself to danger. He would escort her; he +would see that no harm befell her. The impulse was spontaneous in +an illusion free of the gardener's part. But he saw her lips +tighten and a frown gather.</p> +<p>"It is not necessary, thank you!" she answered, more coldly than +she had ever spoken to him. This had a magically quick effect on +his attitude.</p> +<p>"I beg pardon! I forgot!" he explained in his old man's voice, +his head sinking, his shoulders drooping in the humility of a +servant who recognizes that he has been properly rebuked for +presumption. "Not a gunner any more—I'm a spy!" he thought, +as he shuffled off without looking toward the batteries again, +though the music of wheels and hoofs was now close by. "I must turn +my back on the guns, for they tempt me. And I must win her consent +before I shall have even the dignity of a spy—and I will win +it!" he added, brightening. "La, la, la! Trust me!"</p> +<p>Marta had a glimpse, as she turned away, of an appealingly +pathetic figure bent as under a wound to his spirits, which gave +her a sense of personal cruelty in the midst of a wave of pity and +regret.</p> +<p>"He is what he is because of the army; a victim of a cult, a +habit," she was thinking. "Had he been in any other calling his +fine qualities might have been of service to the world and he would +have been happy."</p> +<p>Then her sympathy was drawn to another object of war's +injustice—a man approaching under the guard of two soldiers. +Suddenly the man planted his feet and refused to budge.</p> +<p>"I tell you, it isn't fair!" he cried in rage and appeal. "I +tell you, I was only visiting on this side and got caught! I'm a +reservist of the first line. If I don't answer the call I'll be +branded a shirker in my village, and I've got to live in that +village all my life. You better kill me and have done with it!"</p> +<p>"Sorry," said one of the soldiers, "but you were caught trying +to sneak. We're acting under orders. No use of balking."</p> +<p>"Who wouldn't sneak?" demanded the prisoner desperately. "Oh, +say, be a little human! The worst of it is that I came over here to +see my girl to say good-by to her. I'm going to marry her," he +pleaded, "though my folks are against it because she's a Brown. It +makes me so cheap—it—"</p> +<p>"We were told to take you to the general. He'll let you off if +there isn't any war, and he may, anyway. But he sure won't if you +resist arrest." The soldiers seized his arms firmly. "Come along!" +they said, and he went. Any one must go when a steel claw of the +demon enforces the order.</p> +<p>A company of infantry resting among their stacked rifles changed +the color of the square in the distance from the gray of pavement +to the brown of a mass of uniforms. In the middle of the main +street a major of the brigade staff, with a number of junior +officers and orderlies, was evidently waiting on some signal. +Sentries were posted at regular intervals along the curb. The +people in the houses and shops from time to time stopped packing up +their effects long enough to go to the doors and look up and down +apprehensively, asking bootless, nervous questions.</p> +<p>"Are they coming yet?"</p> +<p>"Do you think they will come?"</p> +<p>"Are you sure it's going to be war?"</p> +<p>"Will they shell the town?"</p> +<p>"There'll be time enough for you to get away!" shouted the +major. "All we know is what is written in our instructions, and we +shall act on them when the thing starts. Then we are in command. +Meanwhile, get ready!"</p> +<p>A lieutenant of a detachment of engineers coming at the double +from a cross street stopped to inquire:</p> +<p>"This way to the knitting mills?"</p> +<p>"Straight ahead! Can't go wrong!" the major answered.</p> +<p>"We are going to loophole their walls for the infantry," +explained the lieutenant as he hurried on.</p> +<p>"Then they're going to fight in the town!"</p> +<p>"Blow our homes to pieces!"</p> +<p>"Destroy our property!"</p> +<p>After this fusillade from the people the major glared at the +retreating back of the lieutenant as much as to say that some men +would never learn to hold their tongues. Naturally, the duty of +looking after refugees was not to his soldierly taste.</p> +<p>"We are doing it all for you, for the country," he explained. +"We are going to make them pay for every foot they take—the +invaders!"</p> +<p>"Yes, make them pay!" called a voice from the houses.</p> +<p>"Make them pay!" other voices joined in.</p> +<p>"It isn't the fellows just across the border that want to take +our property," said an elderly man. "They're good friends enough. +It's the Grays' politicians and the fire-eaters in the other +provinces."</p> +<p>"The robbers!" piped a woman's high-pitched note. "I've got a +son in the army, and if ever he leaves that mountain range and goes +down the other side with the Grays chasing him, he'll get worse +from me than the Grays could give him!"</p> +<p>"That's right! That's the way to talk!" came a chorus.</p> +<p>Then the major became aware of a young woman who was going in +the wrong direction. Her cheeks were flushed from her rapid walk, +her lips were parted, showing firm, white teeth, and her black eyes +were regarding him in a blaze of satire or amusement; an emotion, +whatever it was, that thoroughly centred his attention.</p> +<p>"Yes," she said, anger getting the better of her, "make them +pay—and they make you pay—and you make them +pay—and so on!"</p> +<p>The major smiled. It seemed the safe thing to do. He did not +know but the young woman might charge.</p> +<p>"Mademoiselle, I am sorry, but unless you live in this +direction," he said very politely, "you may not go any farther. +Until we have other orders or they attack, every one is supposed to +remain in his house or his place of business."</p> +<p>"This is my place of business!" Marta answered, for she was +already opposite a small, disused chapel which was her schoolroom, +where a half dozen of the faithful children were gathered around +the masculine importance of Jacky Werther, one of the older +boys.</p> +<p>"Then you are Miss Galland!" said the major, enlightened. His +smile had an appreciation of the irony of her occupation at that +moment. "Your children are very loyal. They would not tell me where +they lived, so we had to let them stay there."</p> +<p>"Those who have homes," she said, identifying each one of the +faithful with a glance, "have so many brothers and sisters that +they will hardly be missed from the flock. Others have no +homes—at least, not much of a one"—here her temper rose +again—"taxes being so high in order that you may organize +murder and the destruction of property."</p> +<p>"I—" gasped the major under the fire of those black +eyes.</p> +<p>But their flashes suddenly splintered into less threatening +lights as she realized the fatuity of this personal allusion.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm not the town scold!" she explained with a nervous +little laugh that helped her to recover poise.</p> +<p>With the black eyes in this mood, the major was conscious only +of a desire to please which conflicted with duty.</p> +<p>"Now, really, Miss Galland," he began solicitously, "I have been +assigned to move the civil population in case of attack. Your +children ought—"</p> +<p>"After school! You have your duty this morning and I have mine!" +Marta interrupted pleasantly, and turned toward the chapel.</p> +<p>"They are putting sharpshooters in the church tower to get the +aeroplanes, and there are lots of the little guns that fire bullets +so fast you can't count 'em—and little spring wagons with +dynamite to blow things up—and—" Jacky Werther ran on +in a series of vocal explosions as Marta opened the door to let the +children go in.</p> +<p>"Yet you came!" said Marta with a hand caressingly on his +shoulder.</p> +<p>"It looks pretty bad for peace, but we came," answered Jacky, +round-eyed, in loyalty. "We'd come right through the bullets 'cause +we said we would if we wasn't sick, and we wasn't sick."</p> +<p>"My seven disciples—seven!" exclaimed Marta as she counted +them. "And you need not sit on the regular seats, but around me on +the platform. It will be more intimate."</p> +<p>"That's grand!" came in chorus. They did not bother, about +chairs, but seated themselves on the floor around Marta's +skirts.</p> +<p>"My, Miss Galland, but your eyes are bright!"</p> +<p>"And your cheeks are all red!"</p> +<p>"With little spots in the centre!"</p> +<p>"You're very wonderful, Miss Galland!"</p> +<p>The church clock boomed out its deliberate strokes through ten, +the hour set for the lesson, and all counted +them—one—two—three. Marta was thinking what a +dismal little effort theirs was, and yet she was very happy, +tremblingly happy in her distraction and excitement, that they had +not waited for her at the door of the chapel in vain.</p> +<p>She announced that there would be no talk this morning; they +would only say their oath. Repeating in concert the pledge to the +boys and girls of other lands, the childish voices peculiarly sweet +and harmonious in contrast to the raucous and uneven sounds of +foreboding from the street, they came in due course to the words of +the concession that the oath made to militancy.</p> +<p>"If an enemy tries to take my land—"</p> +<p>"Children—I—" Marta interrupted with a sense of +wonder and shock. They paused and looked at her questioningly. "I +had almost forgotten that part!" she breathed confusedly.</p> +<p>"That's the part that makes all we're doing against the Grays +right!" put in Jacky Werther promptly.</p> +<p>"As I wrote it for you! 'I shall appeal to his sense of justice +and reason with him—'"</p> +<p>Jaws dropped and eyes bulged, for above the sounds of the street +rose from the distance the unmistakable crackling of rifle-fire +which, as they listened, spread and increased in volume.</p> +<p>"Go on—on to the end of the oath! It will take only a +moment," said Marta resolutely. "It isn't much, but it's the best +we can do!"</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XVIII' id="XVIII"></a> +<h2>XVIII</h2> +<h3>THE BAPTISM OF FIRE</h3> +<br> +<p>After the morning sun commenced to tickle the back of his neck, +Eugene Aronson, the giant of the 128th of the Grays, stretched his +limbs as healthily as a cub bear.</p> +<p>"No war yet!" he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes.</p> +<p>"Oh, we'd have called you if there were!" said the +manufacturer's son, trying to make a joke, which was hard work with +his clothes dew-soaked after a sleepless night in the open.</p> +<p>"Wouldn't want you to miss it after coming so far," added the +laborer's son, aiming to show that he, too, was in a light-hearted +mood.</p> +<p>"And how did you sleep?" asked Eugene, cheerily, of his +neighbors.</p> +<p>"Fine!"</p> +<p>"First rate!"</p> +<p>"Like a stone!"</p> +<p>Every man was too intent in forcing his own spontaneity to +notice that that of the others was also forced.</p> +<p>"Like a top!" chimed in pasty-faced Peterkin, the valet's son, +to be in fashion.</p> +<p>"I didn't sleep much myself; in fact, not at all," said Hugo +Mallin.</p> +<p>"Oh, ho!" groaned Pilzer, the butcher's son, with a broad grin +that made a crease in the liver patch on his cheek.</p> +<p>"You see, it's a new experience for me," Hugo explained in a +drawl, his face drawn as a mask. "I'm not so used to war as you +other fellows are. I'm not so brave!"</p> +<p>There was a forced laugh because Hugo appeared droll, and when +he appeared droll it was the proper thing to laugh. Besides, in the +best humor there is a grain of truth, whether you see it or not. +This time a number saw it quite clearly.</p> +<p>"I was thinking how ridiculous we all are," Hugo went on without +change of tone or expression, "grovelling here on our stomachs and +pretending that we slept when we didn't and that we want to be +killed when we don't!"</p> +<p>"White feather again!" Pilzer exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Oh, shut up!" snapped the doctor's son irritably. "Let Hugo +talk. He's only gassing. It's so monotonous lying here that any +kind of nonsense is better than growling."</p> +<p>"Yes, yes!" the others agreed.</p> +<p>Hugo's outburst of the previous evening was forgotten. They +welcomed anything that broke the suspense. Let the regimental wag +make a little fun any way that he could. As the officers had +withdrawn somewhat to the rear for breakfast, there was no +constraint.</p> +<p>"I was thinking how I'd like to go out and shake hands with the +Browns," said Hugo. "That's the way fencers and pugilists do before +they set to. It seems polite and sportsmanlike, indicating that +there's no prejudice."</p> +<p>There was a ripple of half-hearted merriment punctuated by +exclamations.</p> +<p>"What a fool idea!"</p> +<p>"How do all your notions get into your head, Hugo?"</p> +<p>"Sometimes by squinting at the moonlight and counting odd +numbers; sometimes by knowing that anything that's different is +ridiculous; and sometimes by looking for tangent truths out of +professorial ruts," Hugo observed with a sort of erudite +discursiveness which was the rank dissimulation of a hypocrite to +Pilzer and wholly confusing to Peterkin, not to say a draught on +mental effort for many of the others. "For instance, I got a good +one from two fellows of the Browns whom I met on the road the first +day we arrived. They were reservists. We were soon talking together +and so peaceably that I was sceptical if they were Browns at all. +So I determined on a test. I told them I was from a distant +province and hadn't travelled much and wouldn't they please take +off their hats. They consented very good-naturedly."</p> +<p>"Oh, good old Hugo! He got one on the Browns!"</p> +<p>"I'd like to have been there to see it!"</p> +<p>"And when they took off their hats, what then?"</p> +<p>"Why, I said: 'This isn't convincing at all.'" Hugo's drawl +paused for a second while interest developed. "'You haven't any +horns! Haven't you any forked tails, either? Or are they curled up +nicely inside your trousers' legs?'"</p> +<p>"Whew! But they must have felt cheap to have been got in that +way!"</p> +<p>"And old Hugo looking so solemn!"</p> +<p>"Just like he does now!"</p> +<p>But the judge's son said under his breath, "Very pretty!" and +the doctor's son, who was next him in the ranks, nodded +understandingly.</p> +<p>"It seems they had checked their horns and tails at the +frontier," Hugo continued, "and, as I had left mine hanging in the +rifle racks at the barracks, we got on together like real human +beings. I found they could speak my language better than my +lesson-book try at theirs—yes, as well as I can speak it +myself—and that made it all the easier. After a while I +mentioned the war. They were very amiable and they didn't begin to +call me a swill-eating land-shark or any other of the pretty names +I've heard they are so fond of using. 'We want to keep what is +ours,' they said. 'Your side will have to start the fight by +crossing the line. We shall not!"'</p> +<p>"Because they know they'll be licked!" put in Pilzer hotly.</p> +<p>"No, we may beat them in fighting," agreed Hugo, "but these two +fellows had me beaten on the argument!"</p> +<p>"They hauled down our flag! They insulted us in their +despatches! They quibble! They're the perfidious Browns!" cried big +Eugene Aronson, speaking the lesson taught him by the newspapers, +which had it from the premier.</p> +<p>"There, he's got you again, Gene!"</p> +<p>"Yes, you funny old simpleton! You are almost too easy!"</p> +<p>There was something of the vivacity of the barrack-room banter +in the exclamations at Eugene's expense. Yet they were not the +same. The look on no man's face was the same. The humorist was +silent.</p> +<p>"What next, Hugo?"</p> +<p>He half stared at them, and his mask was not solemn but +tragic.</p> +<p>"I was thinking how men work their courage up, as if patriotism +were a Moloch of which they were afraid," he said. "How in order to +get killed we go out to kill others, when right is on their side! +How you, Armand, or you, Eugene, might be dead before to-morrow! +How—."</p> +<p>"The bullet is not made that will get me!" exclaimed Eugene, +with a swelling breath from his bellows-like lungs.</p> +<p>"Take him home to mother!" groaned Pilzer.</p> +<p>"That will do for you, Hugo Mallin!" came another interruption, +a sharp one from Captain Fracasse, who had returned unobserved from +the rear in time to overhear Hugo's remarks. "And that's the way to +talk, Aronson and Pilzer. As for you, Mallin, I've a mind to put +you under arrest and send you back for a coward! A coward—do +you hear?"</p> +<p>"Ah-h!" breathed Pilzer in a guttural of satisfaction.</p> +<p>Hugo crimsoned at first in confusion, then he looked frankly and +unflinchingly at the captain.</p> +<p>"Very well, sir!" he said with a certain dignity which Fracasse, +who was a good deal of a martinet, found very irritating.</p> +<p>"No, that would suit you too well!" Fracasse declared. "You +shall stay! You shall do the duty for which your country trained +you and take your share of the chances."</p> +<p>"Yes, sir!" answered Hugo. "But won't you," he asked +persuasively and with the wondering inquiry of the suggestion that +had sprung into his heretic brain, "won't you ask the men if there +are not some here who really, in their hearts, the logic of their +hearts—which is often better than brain logic—do not +believe just as I do?"</p> +<p>"Have you gone insane? There are none!" In the impulse of anger +that swept his cheeks with a red wave Fracasse half drew his sword +as if he would strike Hugo. "And, Mallin, you are a marked man. I +shall watch you! I'll have the lieutenants and sergeants watch you. +At the first sign of flunking I'll make an example of you!"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," answered Hugo, with the automatic deference of +private to officer but with a reserved and studious inquiry that +made the captain bite his lip.</p> +<p>"I'll have Aronson and Pilzer watch you, too!" Fracasse +added.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir!" said Pilzer promptly.</p> +<p>Then, under the restraint of the captain's presence, there was a +silence that endured. The men were left to the sole resource of +their thoughts and observation of their surroundings. They were +lying in a pasture facing the line of white posts whose tops ran in +an even row over level ground. On the other side of the boundary +was a wheat-field. Here a farmer had commenced his fall ploughing. +His plough was in the furrow where he had left it when he unhitched +his team for the day, before an orderly had come to tell him that +he must move out of his house overnight. The wheat stubble swept on +up to a knoll in the distance.</p> +<p>All the landscape in front of Fracasse's company seemed to have +been deserted; no moving figures were anywhere in sight; no sign of +the enemy's infantry. No trains came or went along the lines of +steel into the mountain tunnel, which had been mined at a dozen +points by the Browns. No vehicles and no foot-passengers dotted the +highway into the town. Over the mountains and over the plain, +planes and dirigibles moved in wide circles restively, watching for +a signal as hawks watch for prey. Suspense this—suspense of +such a swift vibration that it was like a taut G string of a violin +under the bow!</p> +<p>Faintly the town clock was heard striking the hour. From eight +to nine and nine to ten Fracasse's men waited; waited until the +machine was ready and Westerling should throw in the clutch; waited +until the troops were in place for the first move before he hurled +his battalions forward. Every pawn of flesh facing the white posts +had a thousand thoughts whirling in such a medley that he could be +said to have no thought at all, only an impression juggled by +destiny. No one would have confessed what he felt, while physical +inactivity gave free rein to mental activity. That thing of a +nation's nightmare; that thing for which generations had drilled +without its materializing; that thing of speculation, of hazard, of +horror; that thing of quick action and long-enduring consequences +was coming.</p> +<p>They did not know how the captain at their back received his +orders; they only heard the note of the whistle, with a command +familiar to a trained instinct on the edge of anticipation. It +released a spring in their nerve-centres. They responded as the +wheels respond when the throttle is opened. Jumping to their feet +they broke into a run, bodies bent, heads down, like the peppered +silhouette that faced Westerling's desk. What they had done +repeatedly in drills and man[oe]uvres they were now doing in war, +mechanically as marionettes.</p> +<p>"Come on! The bullet is not made that can get me! Come on!" +cried the giant Eugene Aronson.</p> +<p>He leaped over a white post and then over the plough, which was +also in his path. Little Peterkin felt his legs trembling. They +seemed to be detached from his will, and the company's and the +captain's will, and churning in pantomime or not moving at all. If +Hugo Mallin had been called a coward, what of himself? What of the +stupid of the company, who would never learn even the manual of +arms correctly, as the drill-sergeant often said? A new fear made +him glance around. He would not have been surprised to find that he +was already in the rear. But instead he found that he was keeping +up, which was all that was necessary, as more than one other man +assured his legs. After thirty or forty yards most of the legs, if +not Peterkin's, had worked out their shiver and nearly all felt the +exhilaration of movement in company. Then came the sound that +generations had drilled for without hearing; the sound that summons +the imagination of man in the thought of how he will feel and act +when he hears it; the sound that is everywhere like the song +snatches of bees driven whizzing through the air.</p> +<p>"That's it! We're under fire! We're under fire!" flashed as +crooked lightning recognition of the sound through every brain.</p> +<p>There was no sign of any enemy; no telling where the bullets +came from.</p> +<p>"Such a lot of them, one must surely get me!" Peterkin +thought.</p> +<p>Whish-whish! Th-ipp-whing! The refrain gripped his imagination +with an unseen hand. He seemed to be suffocating. He wanted to +throw himself down and hold his hands in front of his head. While +Pilzer and Aronson were not thinking, only running, Peterkin was +thinking with the rapidity of a man falling from a high building. +Worse! He did not know how far he had to go. He was certain only +that he was bound to strike ground.</p> +<p>"An inch is as good as a mile!" He recollected the captain's +teaching. "Only one of a thousand bullets fired in war ever kills a +man"—but he was certain that he had heard a million already. +Then one passed very close, its swift breath brushing his cheek +with a whistle like a s-s-st through the teeth. He dodged so hard +that he might have dislocated his neck; he gasped and half +stumbled, but realized that he had not been hit. And he must keep +right on going, driven by one fear against another, in face of +those ghastly whispers which the others, for the most part, in the +excitement of a charge, had ceased to hear.</p> +<p>Again he would be sure that his legs, which he was urging so +frantically to their duty, were not playing pantomime. He looked +around to find that he was still keeping up with Eugene and felt +the thrill of the bravery of fellowship at sight of the giant's +flushed, confident face revelling in the spirit of a charge. And +then, just then, Eugene convulsively threw up his arms, dropped his +rifle, and whirled on his heel. As he went down his hand clutched +at his left breast and came away red and dripping. After one wild, +backward glance, Peterkin plunged ahead.</p> +<p>"Eugene!" Hugo Mallin had stopped and bent over Eugene in the +supreme instinct of that terrible second, supporting his comrade's +head.</p> +<p>"The bullet is not—made—." Eugene whispered, the +ruling passion strong to the last. A flicker of the eyelids, a +gurgle in the throat, and he was dead.</p> +<p>Fracasse had been right behind them. The sight of a man falling +was something for which he was prepared; something inevitably a +part of the game. A man down was a man out of the fight, service +finished. A man up with a rifle in his hand was a man who ought to +be in action.</p> +<p>"Here, you are not going to get out this way!" he said in the +irritation of haste, slapping Hugo with his sword. "Go on! That's +hospital-corps work."</p> +<p>Hugo had a glimpse of the captain's rigid features and a last +one of Eugene's, white and still and yet as if he were about to +speak his favorite boast; then he hurried on, his side glance +showing other prostrate forms. One form a few yards away half rose +to call "Hospital!" and fell back, struck mortally by a second +bullet.</p> +<p>"That's what you get if you forget instructions," said Fracasse +with no sense of brutality, only professional exasperation, "Keep +down, you wounded men!" he shouted at the top of his voice.</p> +<p>The colonel of the 128th had not looked for immediate +resistance. He had told Fracasse's men to occupy the knoll +expeditiously. But by the common impulse of military training, no +less than in answer to the whistle's call, in face of the withering +fire they dropped to earth at the base of the knoll, where Hugo +threw himself down at full length in his place in line next to +Peterkin.</p> +<p>"Fire pointblank at the crest in front of you! I saw a couple of +men standing up there!" called Fracasse. "Fire fast! That's the way +to keep down their fire—pointblank, I tell you! You're firing +into the sky! I want to see more dust kicked up. Fire fast! We'll +have them out of there soon! They're only an outpost."</p> +<p>Hugo was firing vaguely, like a man in a dream, and thinking +that maybe up there on the knoll were the two Browns he had met on +the road and perhaps their comrades were as fond of them as he was +of Eugene. It is a mistake for a soldier to think much, as +Westerling had repeatedly said.</p> +<p>Pilzer was shooting to kill. His eye had the steely gleam of his +rifle sight and the liver patch on his cheek was a deeper hue as he +sought to avenge Eugene's death. Drowned by the racket of their own +fire, not even Peterkin was hearing the whish-whish of the bullets +from Dellarme's company now. He did not know that the blacksmith's +son, who was the fourth man from him, lay with his chin on his +rifle stock and a tiny trickle of blood from a hole in his forehead +running down the bridge of his nose.</p> +<p>Fracasse, glancing along from rifle to rifle, as a weaver +watches the threads of a machine loom, saw that Hugo was firing at +too high an angle.</p> +<p>"Mallin!" he called. Hugo did not hear because of the noise, and +Fracasse had to creep nearer, which was anything but cooling to his +temper. "You fool! You are shooting fifty feet above the top of the +knoll! Look along your sight!" he yelled.</p> +<p>Fracasse observed, with some surprise, that Hugo's hand was +steady as he carefully drew a bead. Hugo saw a spurt of dust at the +point slightly below the crest where he aimed; for he was the best +shot in the company at target practice.</p> +<p>"I'm not killing anybody!" he thought happily.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XIX' id="XIX"></a> +<h2>XIX</h2> +<h3>RECEIVING THE CHARGE</h3> +<br> +<p>What about Stransky of the Reds, who would not fight to please +the ruling classes? What about Grandfather Fragini, who would fight +on principle whenever a Gray was in sight? Now we leave the story +of Fracasse's men at the foot of the knoll for that of the Browns +on the crest.</p> +<p>Young Dellarme, new to his captain's rank, with lips pressed +tightly together, his delicately moulded, boyish features +reflecting the confidence which it was his duty to inspire in his +company, watching the plain through his glasses, saw the movement +of mounted officers to the rear of the 128th as a reason for +summoning his men.</p> +<p>"Creep up! Don't show yourselves! Creep +up—carefully—carefully!" he kept repeating as they +crawled forward on their stomachs. "And no one is to fire until the +command comes."</p> +<p>Hugging the cover of the ridge of fresh earth which they had +thrown up the previous night, they watched the white posts. +Stransky, who had been ruminatively silent all the morning, was in +his place, but he was not looking at the enemy. Cautiously, to +avoid a reprimand, he raised his head to enable him to glance along +the line. All the faces seemed drawn and clayish.</p> +<p>"They don't want to fight! They're just here because they're +ordered here and haven't the character to defy authority," he +thought. "The leaven is working! My time is coming!"</p> +<p>But Grandfather Fragini's cheeks had a hectic flush; his heart +was beating with the exhilaration of an old war-horse. Looking over +Tom's shoulder, he squinted into the distance, his underlip +quivering against his toothless gums.</p> +<p>"My eyesight's kind of uncertain," he said. "Can you see +'em?"</p> +<p>"There by the white posts—those lying figures!" said Tom. +"They're almost the color of the stubble."</p> +<p>"So I do, the land-sharks! Down on their bellies, too! No flag, +either! But that ain't no reason why we shouldn't have a flag. It +ought to be waving at 'em in defiance right over our heads!"</p> +<p>"Flags draw fire. They let the enemy know where you are,' Tom +explained.</p> +<p>"The Hussars didn't bother about that. We let out a yell and +went after 'em!" growled grandfather. "Appears to me the fighting +these days is grovelling in the dirt and taking care nobody don't +get hurt!"</p> +<p>"Oh, there'll be enough hurt—don't you worry about that!" +said a voice from the line.</p> +<p>"Good thing an old fellow who's been under fire is along to +stiffen you rookies!" replied grandfather tartly. "You'll be all +right once you get going. You'll settle down to be real soldiers +yet. And I'd like to hear a little more cussing. How the Hussars +used to cuss! Too much reading and writing nowadays. It makes men +too ladylike."</p> +<p>By this time he had once more attracted the captain's +attention.</p> +<p>"Grandfather Fragini, you must drop back—you must! If you +don't, I'll have you carried back!" called Dellarme, sparing the +old man only a glance from his concentrated observation on the +front.</p> +<p>When he looked again at the enemy any thought of carrying out +his threat vanished, for the minute had come when all his training +was to be put to a test. The figures on the other side of the white +posts were rising. He was to prove by the way he directed a company +of infantry in action whether or not he was worthy of his captain's +rank. He breathed one of those unspoken prayers that are made to +the god of one's own efficient, conscientious responsibility to +duty. The words of it were: "May I keep my head as if I were at +drill!" Then he smiled cheerily. In order that he might watch how +each man used his rifle, he drew back of the line, his slim body +erect as he rested on one knee, his head level with the other heads +while he fingered his whistle. His lieutenants followed his example +even to the detail of his cheery smile. There was a slight stirring +of heads and arms as eyes drew beads on human targets. The instant +that Eugene Aronson sprang over the white post a blast from +Dellarme's whistle began the war.</p> +<p>It was a signal, too, for Stransky to play the part he had +planned; to make the speech of his life. His six feet of stature +shot to its feet with a Jack-in-the-box abruptness, under the +impulse of a mighty and reckless passion.</p> +<p>"Men, stop firing!" he cried thunderously. "Stop firing on your +brothers! Like you, they are only the pawns of the ruling class, +who keep us all pawns in order that they may have champagne and +caviare. Comrades, I'll lead you! Comrades, we'll take a white flag +and go down to meet our comrades and we'll find that they think as +we do! I'll lead you!"</p> +<p>Grandfather Fragini, impelled by the hysterical call of the +Hussar spirit, also sprang up, waving his hat and trembling and +swaying with the emotion that racked his old body.</p> +<p>"Give it to 'em! Aim low! Give it to 'em—give it to 'em, +horns and hoofs, sabre and carbine!" he shouted in a high, jumpy +voice. "Give it to 'em! Make 'em weep! Make 'em whine! Make 'em +bellow!"</p> +<p>Both appeals were drowned in the cracking of the rifles working +as regularly as punching-machines in a factory. Every soldier was +seeing only his sight and the running figures under it. +Mechanically and automatically, training had been projected into +action, anticipation into realization. A spectator might as well +have called to a man in a hundred-yard dash to stop running, to an +oarsman in a race to jump out of his shell.</p> +<p>So centred was Dellarme in watching his men and the effect of +their fire that he did not notice the two silhouettes on the +sky-line, making ridicule of all his care about keeping his company +under cover, until the doctor, who alone had nothing to do as yet, +touched him on the arm. At the moment he looked around, and before +he could speak a command, a hospital-corps man who was near +Grandfather Fragini threw himself in a low tackle and brought the +old man to earth, while the company sergeant sprang for Stransky +with an oath. But Stransky was in no mood to submit. He felled the +sergeant with a blow and, recklessly defiant, stared at Dellarme, +while the men, steadily firing, were still oblivious of the scene. +The sergeant, stunned, rose to his knees and reached for his +revolver. Dellarme, bent over to keep his head below the crest, had +already drawn his as he hastened toward them.</p> +<p>"Stransky," said Dellarme, "you have struck an officer under +fire! You have refused to fight! Within the law I am warranted in +shooting you dead!"</p> +<p>"Well!" answered Stransky, throwing back his head, his face +seeming all big, bony nose and heavy jaw and burning eyes.</p> +<p>"Will you get down? Will you take your place with your rifle?" +demanded Dellarme.</p> +<p>Stransky laughed thunderously in scorn. He was handsome, +titanic, and barbaric, with his huge shoulders stretching his +blouse, which fell loosely around his narrow hips, while the fist +that had felled the sergeant was still clenched.</p> +<p>"No!" said Stransky. "You won't kill much if you kill me and +you'd kill less if you shot yourself! God Almighty! Do you think +I'm afraid? Me—afraid?"</p> +<p>His eyes in a bloodshot glare, as uncompromising as those of a +bull in an arena watching the next move of the red cape of the +matador, regarded Dellarme, who hesitated in the revulsion of the +horror of killing and in admiration of the picture of human force +before him. But the old sergeant, smarting under the insult of the +blow, his sandstone features mottled with red patches, had no +compunctions of this order. He was ready to act as executioner.</p> +<p>"If you don't want to shoot, I can! An example—the law! +There's no other way of dealing with him! Give the word!" he said +to Dellarme.</p> +<p>Stransky laughed, now in strident cynicism. It was the laugh of +the red, of bastardy, of blanketless nights in the hedgerows, and +boot soles worn through to the macadam, with the dust of speeding +automobiles blown in the gaunt face of hunger. Dellarme still +hesitated, recollecting Lanstron's remark. He pictured Stransky in +a last stand in a redoubt, and every soldier was as precious to him +as a piece of gold to a miser.</p> +<p>"One ought to be enough to kill me if you're going to do it to +slow music," said Stransky. "You might as well kill me as the poor +fools that your poor fools are trying to—"</p> +<p>Another breath finished the speech; a breath released from a +ball that seemed to have come straight from hell. The fire-control +officer of a regiment of Gray artillery on the plain, scanning the +landscape for the origin of the rifle-fire which was leaving many +fallen in the wake of the charge of the Gray infantry, had seen two +figures on the knoll. "How kind! Thank you!" his thought spoke +faster than words. No need of range-finding! The range to every +possible battery or infantry position around La Tir was already +marked on his map. He passed the word to his guns.</p> +<p>The burst of their first shrapnel-shell blinded all three actors +in the scene on the crest of the knoll with its ear-splitting crack +and the force of its concussion threw Stransky down beside the +sergeant. Dellarme, as his vision cleared, had just time to see +Stransky jerk his hand up to his temple, where there was a red +spot, before another shell burst, a little to the rear. This was +harmless, as a shrapnel's shower of fragments and bullets carry +forward from the point of explosion. But the next burst in front of +the line. The doctor's period of idleness was over. One man's rifle +shot up as his spine was broken by a jagged piece of shrapnel +jacket. Now there were too many shells to watch them +individually.</p> +<p>"It's all right—all right, men!" Dellarme called again, +assuming his cheery smile. "It takes a lot of shrapnel to kill +anybody. Our batteries will soon answer!"</p> +<p>His voice was unheard, yet its spirit was felt. The men knew +through their training that there was no use of dodging and that +their best protection was an accurate fire of their own.</p> +<p>"Shelling us, the ———- ———!" +gasped Grandfather Fragini, who had experience, if he were weak in +reading and writing. "All noise and smoke!"—as it was to a +larger degree in his day.</p> +<p>Stransky had half risen, a new kind of savagery dawning on his +features as he regained his wits. With inverted eyes he regarded +the red ends of his fingers, held in line with the bridge of his +nose. He felt of the wound again, now that he was less dizzy. It +was only a scratch and he had been knocked down like a beef in an +abattoir by an unseen enemy, on whom he could not lay hands! He +glared around as if in search of the hidden antagonist. The +sergeant had crept forward to be a steadying influence to the men +in their first trial, if need be, and the doctor and a +hospital-corps man were dragging a wounded man out of fine without +exposing their own shoulders above the crest. Stransky rolled his +eyes in and out; the tendons of his neck swelled; his jaw worked as +if crunching pebbles. Deafeningly, the shrapnel jackets continued +to crack with "ukung-s-sh—ukung-s-sh" as the swift breath of +the shrapnel missiles spread.</p> +<p>"Give it to 'em! Give it to 'em!" Grandfather Fragini cried, his +old voice a quavering bird note in the pandemonium. "My, but they +do come fast!" he gasped.</p> +<p>Yes, a trifle faster than in your day, grandfather, when a gun +of the horse-artillery had to be relaid after the recoil, which is +now taken up by an oil chamber, while the gunner on his seat behind +the breech keeps the sight steady on the target. The guns of one +battery of that Gray regiment of artillery, each firing six +fourteen-pound shells a minute methodically, every shell loaded +with nearly two hundred projectiles, were giving their undivided +attention to the knoll.</p> +<p>How long could his company endure this? Dellarme might well ask. +He knew that he would not be expected to withdraw yet. With a sense +of relief he saw Fracasse's men drop for cover at the base of the +knoll and then, expectation fulfilled, he realized that rifle-fire +now reinforced the enemy's shell fire. His duty was to remain while +he could hold his men, and a feeling toward them such as he had +never felt before, which was love, sprang full-fledged into his +heart as he saw how steadily they kept up their fusillade.</p> +<p>The sergeant, who now had time to think of Stransky, was seized +with a spasm of retributive rage. He drew his revolver +determinedly.</p> +<p>"You brought this on! I'll do for you!" he cried, turning toward +the spot where he had left Stransky, only to lower his revolver in +amazement as he saw Stransky, eager in response to a new passion, +spring forward into place and pick up his rifle.</p> +<p>"If you will not have it my way, take it yours!" said the best +shot in the company, as he began firing with resolute coolness.</p> +<p>"They have a lot of men down," said Dellarme, his glasses +showing the many prostrate figures on the wheat stubble. "Steady! +steady! We have plenty of batteries back in the hills. One will be +in action soon."</p> +<p>But would one? He understood that with their smokeless powder +the Gray guns could be located only by their flashes, which would +not be visible unless the refraction of light were favorable. Then +"thur-eesh—thur-eesh" above every other sound in a long wail! +No man ever forgets the first crack of a shrapnel at close +quarters, the first bullet breath on his cheek, or the first +supporting shell from his side in flight that passes above him.</p> +<p>"That is ours!" called Dellarme.</p> +<p>"Ours!" shouted the sergeant.</p> +<p>"Ours!" sang the thought of every one of the men.</p> +<p>Over the Gray batteries on the plain an explosive ball of smoke +hung in the still air; then another beside it.</p> +<p>"Thur-eesh—thur-eesh—thur-eesh," the screaming overhead +became a gale that built a cloud of blue smoke over the offending +Gray batteries—beautiful, soft blue smoke from which a spray +of steel descended. There was no spotting the flashes of the +Browns' guns in order to reply to them, for they were under the +cover of a hill, using indirect aim as nicely and accurately as In +firing pointblank. The gunners of the Gray batteries could not go +on with their work under such a hail-storm, they were checkmated. +They stopped firing and began moving to a new position, where their +commander hoped to remain undiscovered long enough to support the +128th by loosing his lightnings against the defenders at the +critical moment of the next charge, which would be made as soon as +Fracasse's men had been reinforced.</p> +<p>There was an end to the concussions and the thrashing of the air +around Dellarme's men, and they had the relief of a breaking +abscess in the ear. But they became more conscious of the spits of +dust in front of their faces and the passing whistles of bullets. +In return, they made the sections of Gray infantry in reserve +rushing across the levels, leave many gray lumps behind. But +Fracasse's men at the foot of the slope poured in a heavier and +still heavier fire.</p> +<p>"Down there's where we need the shells now!" spoke the thought +of Dellarme's men, which he had anticipated by a word to the signal +corporal, who waved his flag +one—two—three—four—five times. Come on, +now, with more of your special brand of death, fire-control +officer! Your own head is above the sky-line, though your guns are +hidden. Five hundred yards beyond the knoll is the range! Come +on!</p> +<p>He came with a burst of screams so low in flight that they +seemed to brush the back of the men's necks with a hair broom at +the rate of a thousand feet a second. Having watched the result, +Dellarme turned with a confirmatory gesture, which the corporal +translated into the wigwag of "Correct!" The shrapnel smoke hanging +over Fracasse's men appeared a heavenly blue to Dellarme's men.</p> +<p>"They are going to start for us soon! Oh, but we'll get a lot of +them!" whispered Stransky gleefully to his rifle.</p> +<p>Dellarme glanced again toward the colonel's station. No sign of +the retiring flag. He was glad of that. He did not want to fall +back in face of a charge; to have his men silhouetted in the valley +as they retreated. And the Grays would not endure this shower-bath +long without going one way or the other. He gave the order to fix +bayonets, and hardly was it obeyed when he saw flashes of steel +through the shrapnel smoke as the Grays fixed theirs. The Grays had +five hundred yards to go; the Browns had the time that it takes +running men to cover the distance in which to stop the Grays.</p> +<p>"We'll spear any of them who has the luck to get this far!" +whispered Stransky to his rifle. The sentence was spoken in the +midst of a salvo of shrapnel cracks, which he did not hear. He +heard nothing, thought nothing, except to kill.</p> +<p>The Gray batteries on the plain, having taken up a new position +and being reinforced, played on the crest at top speed instantly +the Gray line rose and started up the slope at the run. With the +purpose of confusing no less than killing, they used percussion, +which burst on striking the ground, as well as shrapnel, which +burst by a time-fuse in the air. Fountains of sod and dirt shot +upward to meet descending sprays of bullets. The concussions of the +earth shook the aim of Dellarme's men, blinded by smoke and dust, +as they fired through a fog at bent figures whose legs were pumping +fast in dim pantomime.</p> +<p>But the guns of the Browns, also, have word that the charge has +begun. The signal corporal is waiting for the gesture from Dellarme +agreed upon as an announcement. The Brown artillery commander cuts +his fuses two hundred and fifty yards shorter. He, too, uses +percussion for moral effect.</p> +<p>Half of the distance from the foot to the crest of the knoll +Fracasse's men have gone in face of the hot, sizzling tornado of +bullets, when there is a blast of explosions in their faces with +all the chaotic and irresistible force of a volcanic eruption. Not +only are they in the midst of the first lot of the Browns' shells +at the shorter range, but one Gray battery has either made a +mistake in cutting its fuses or struck a streak of powder below +standard, and its shells burst among those whom it is aiming to +assist.</p> +<p>The ground seems rising under the feet of Fracasse's company; +the air is split and racked and wrenched and torn with hideous +screams of invisible demons. The men stop; they act on the +uncontrollable instinct of self-preservation against an +overwhelming force of nature. A few without the power of locomotion +drop, faces pressed to the ground. The rest flee toward a shoulder +of the slope through the instinct that leads a hunted man in a +street into an alley. In a confusion of arms and legs, pressing one +on the other, no longer soldiers, only a mob, they throw themselves +behind the first protection that offers itself. Fracasse also runs. +He runs from the flame of a furnace door suddenly thrown open.</p> +<p>The Gray batteries have ceased firing; certain gunners' ears +burn under the words of inquiry as to the cause of the mistake from +an artillery commander. Dellarme's men are hugging the earth too +close to cheer. A desire to spring up and yell may be in their +hearts, but they know the danger of showing a single unnecessary +inch of their craniums above the sky-line. The sounds that escape +their throats are those of a winning team at a tug of war as +diaphragms relax.</p> +<p>With the smoke clearing, they see twenty or thirty Grays +plastered on the slope at the point where the charge was checked. +Every one of those prostrate forms is within fatal range. Not one +moves a finger; even the living are feigning death in the hope of +surviving. Among them is little Peterkin, so faithful in forcing +his refractory legs to keep pace with his comrades. If he is always +up with them they will never know what is in his heart and call him +a coward. As he has been knocked unconscious, he has not been in +the pell-mell retreat.</p> +<p>His first stabbing thought on coming to was that he must be +dead; but, no; he was opening his eyes sticky with dust. At least, +he must be wounded! He had not power yet to move his hands in order +to feel where, and when they grew alive enough to move, what he saw +in front of him held them frigidly still. His nerves went searching +from his head to his feet and—miracle of Heaven!—found +no point of pain or spot soppy with blood. If he were really hit +there was bound to be one or the other, he knew from reading.</p> +<p>Between him and the faces of the Browns—yes, the actual, +living, terrible Browns—above the glint of their rifle +barrels, was no obstacle that could stop a bullet, though not more +than three feet away was a crater made by a shell burst. The black +circle of every muzzle on the crest seemed to be pointing at him. +When were they going to shoot? When was he to be executed? Would he +be shot in many places and die thus? Or would the very first bullet +go through his head? Why didn't they fire? What were they waiting +for? The suspense was unbearable. The desperation of overwhelming +fear driving him in irresponsible impulse, he doubled up his legs +and with a cat's leap sprang for the crater.</p> +<p>A blood-curdling burst of whistles passed over his head as a +dozen rifles cracked. This time he was surely killed! He was in +some other world! Which was it, the good or the bad? The good, for +he had a glimpse of blue sky. No, that could not be, for he had +been alive when he leaped for the crater, and there he was pressed +against the soft earth of its bottom. He burrowed deeper +blissfully. He was the nearest to the enemy of any man of the +128th, and he certainly had passed through a gamut of emotions in +the half-hour since Eugene Aronson had leaped over a white +post.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>"Confound it! If we'd kept on we'd have got them! Now we have to +do it all over again!" growled Fracasse distractedly as he looked +around at the faces hugging the cover of the shoulder—faces +asking, What next? each in its own way; faces blank and white; +faces with lips working and eyes blinking; faces with the blood +rushing back to cheeks in baffled anger. One, however, was half +smiling—Hugo Mallin's.</p> +<p>"You did your share of the running, I'll warrant, Mallin!" said +Fracasse excitedly, venting his disgust on a particular object.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," answered Hugo. "It was very hard to maintain a +semblance of dignity. Yes, sir, I kept near you all the time so you +could watch me. Wasn't that what you wanted me to do, sir?"</p> +<p>"Good old Hugo! The same old Hugo!" breathed the spirit of the +company. Three or four men burst into a hysterical laugh as if +something had broken in their throats. Everybody felt better for +this touch of drollery except the captain. Yet, possibly, it may +have helped him in recovering his poise. Sometimes even a pin-prick +will have this effect.</p> +<p>"Silence!" he said in his old manner. "I will give you something +to joke about other than a little setback like this! Get up there +with your rifles!"</p> +<p>He formed the nucleus of a firing-line under cover of the +shoulder, and then set the remainder of his company to work with +their spades making a trench. The second battalion of the 128th, +which faced the knoll, was also digging at the base of the slope, +and another regiment in reserve was deploying on the plain. After +the failure to rush the knoll the Gray commander had settled down +to the business of a systematic approach.</p> +<p>And what of those of Fracasse's men who had not run but had +dropped in their tracks when the charge halted? They were between +two lines of fire. There was no escape. Some of the wounded had a +mercifully quick end, others suffered the consciousness of being +hit again and again; the dead were bored through with bullet holes. +In torture, the survivors prayed for death; for all had to die +except Peterkin, the pasty-faced little valet's son.</p> +<p>Peterkin was quite safe, hugging the bottom of the shell crater +under a swarm of hornets. In a surprisingly short time he became +accustomed to the situation and found himself ravenously hungry, +for the strain of the last twelve hours had burned up tissue. He +took a biscuit out of his knapsack and began nibbling it, as became +a true rodent.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XX' id="XX"></a> +<h2>XX</h2> +<h3>MARTA'S FIRST GLIMPSE OF WAR</h3> +<br> +<p>As Marta and the children came to the door of the chapel after +the recitation of the oath, she saw the civil population moving +along the street in the direction of the range. Suddenly they +paused in a common impulse and their heads turned as one head on +the fulcrum of their necks, and their faces as one face in a set +stare looked skyward.</p> +<p>"Keep on moving! No danger!" called the major of the brigade +staff. "Pass the word—no danger! It's not going to drop any +bombs; it's only a scout plane trying to locate the positions of +the defences we've thrown up overnight. No danger—keep +moving!"</p> +<p>He might as well have tried to distract the attention of the +grand stand from the finish of a horse-race. More than the wizard's +spell, years before, at the first sight of man in flight held them +in suspense as they watched a plane approaching with the speed of +an albatross down the wind straight on a line with the church tower +where the sharpshooters were posted. The spread of the wings grew +broader; the motor was making a circle of light as large as a man's +hat-box, and the aviator was the size of some enormous insect when +three or four sharp reports were audible from the church tower.</p> +<p>Still the plane came on intact over the spire. The sharpshooters +had only rimmed the target, without injury to braces or engine. But +they had another chance from the windows on the nearer side of the +tower; and the crowd saw there the glint of rifle barrels. This +time they got the bull's-eye. The aviator reeled and dropped +sidewise, a dead weight caught by the braces, with his arm +dangling. A teetering dip of the plane and his body was shaken +free. His face, as he neared the earth in his descent, bore the +surprised look of a man thumped on the back unexpectedly.</p> +<p>Marta pressed her fingers to her ears, but not soon enough to +keep out the sound of a thud on the roof of the building across the +street from the chapel.</p> +<p>"I was a coward to do that! I shall see worse things!" she +thought, and went to the major, who had turned to the affairs of +the living directly he saw that neither the corpse of the aviator +nor the wreck of the plane was to strike in the street. "I will +look after these children," she said, "and we will care for as many +of the old and sick as we can in our house."</p> +<p>"The children will find their relatives or guardians in the +procession there," he answered methodically. "If they do not, the +government will look after them. It will not do for you to take +them to your house. That would only complicate the matter of their +safety." Here he was interrupted by a precipitate question from one +of his lieutenants, who had come running up. "No! No matter what +the excuse, no one can remain!" he answered. "The nation is not +going to take the risk of letting spies get information to the +enemy for the sake of gratifying individual interests. Every one +must go!" Then he called to an able-bodied citizen of thirty years +or so in the procession: "Here, you, if you're not in the reserve I +have work for you!"</p> +<p>"But I was excused from army service on account of heart +trouble!" explained the able-bodied citizen.</p> +<p>"We all have heart trouble to-day," remarked the major pithily. +"Men are giving up their lives in defence of you and your property. +Every man of your age must do his share when required. Go with this +orderly!" was the final and tart conclusion of the argument. "And +see that he is made useful," he added to the orderly.</p> +<p>An explosion in the factory district made windows rattle and +brought an hysterical outcry from some of the women.</p> +<p>"It's nothing!" the major called, in the assurance of a shepherd +to his sheep. "Blowing up some building that furnish cover for the +enemy's approach in front of our infantry positions! You will hear +more of it. Don't worry! Do as you're told! Keep moving! Keep +moving!"</p> +<p>Now he had time to conclude what he had to say to Marta.</p> +<p>"As your house will soon be under fire, it will be not refuge +for the children; and, in any event, we should net want to leave +them to the care of the Grays with the parents on our side," he +explained in a manner none the less final because of its +politeness. "Every detail has been systematically arranged under +government supervision. Private efforts will only bring confusion +and hardship where we would have order and all possible mercy. As +for the old, the sick, and the infirm—those who cannot bear +being carried far are being moved to the hospital and barracks +outside the town."</p> +<p>In proof of his words, ambulances and requisitioned carriages +filled with the sick and infirm were already proceeding up one of +the side streets.</p> +<p>"It's not human, though!" Marta exclaimed in the desperation of +helplessness.</p> +<p>"No, it is war, which has a habit of being inhuman," replied the +major, turning to call to a woman: "Now, madame, if you leave that +pillow behind you will not be dropping your other things and having +to stop all the time to pick them up!"</p> +<p>"But it's the finest goose feathers and last year's crop!" said +the woman; and then gasped: "Oh, Lord! I left my silver jug on the +mantel!"</p> +<p>"As I've told you before—as the printed slips we +distributed when we woke you at dawn told you," said the major with +some asperity, "you were to take only light things easily portable, +and after you had gone, wagons would get what you had packed and +left ready at the door of your houses, with your names clearly +marked, up to two hundred pounds. The rest we trust to the mercy of +the Grays."</p> +<p>There was nothing for Marta to do but start homeward. The +thought that her mother was alone made her hasten at a pace much +more rapid than the procession of people, whose talk and +exclamations formed a monotone audible in its nearness, despite the +continuous rifle-fire, now broken by the pounding of the guns.</p> +<p>"I wish I had brought the clock—it was my +great-grandfather's."</p> +<p>"Johnny, you keep close to me!"</p> +<p>"And they've taken my wife off to the hospital—separated +us!"</p> +<p>Some were excruciatingly alive to the situation; others were in +a daze. But one cry always roused them from their complaints; +always brought a flash to the dullest eye: Retribution! +retribution! Taken from their peaceful pursuits arbitrarily by the +final authority of physical force, which they could not dispute, +their minds turned in primitive passion to revenge through physical +force.</p> +<p>"I hope our army makes them pay!"</p> +<p>"Yes, make them pay! Make them pay!"</p> +<p>"It's all done to beat the Grays, isn't it, Miss Galland? They +are trying to take our land," said Jacky Werther as Marta parted +from him.</p> +<p>"Yes, it is done to beat the Grays," she answered. "Good luck, +Jacky!"</p> +<p>Yes, yes, to beat the Grays! The same, idea—the fighting +nature, the brute nature of man—animated both sides. Had the +Browns really tried for peace? Had they, in the spirit of her oath, +appealed to justice and reason? Why hadn't their premier before all +the world said to the premier of the Grays, as one honest, friendly +neighbor to another over a matter of dispute:</p> +<p>"We do not want war. We know you outnumber us, but we know you +would not take advantage of that. If we are wrong we will make +amends; if you are wrong we know that you will. Let us not play +tricks in secret to gain points, we civilized nations, but be frank +with each other. Let us not try to irritate each other or to +influence our people, but to realize how much we have in common and +that our only purpose is common progress and happiness."</p> +<p>But no. This was against the precedent of Cain, who probably got +Abel into a cul-de-sac, handed down to the keeping of the Roman +aristocrat, the baron, the first Galland, and the fat, pompous +little man. It would deprive armies of an occupation. It would make +statesmanship too simple and naïve to have the distinction of +craft, which gave one man the right to lead another. Both sides had +to act in the old fashion of mutual suspicion and chicanery.</p> +<p>She was overwrought in the fervor of her principles; she was in +an anguish of protest. Her spirit, in arms against an overwhelming +fact that was wrong, sinful, ridiculous, demanded some expression +in action. Now she was half running, both running away from horror +and toward horror; in a shuttle of resolutions and emotions: a +being at war with war. Passing the head of the procession, she soon +had the castle road to herself, except for orderlies on +motor-cycles and horseback, until a train of automobile wagons +loaded with household goods roared by. The full orchestra of war +was playing right and left: crashing, high-pitched gun-booms near +at hand; low-pitched, reverberating gun-booms in the distance. At +the turn of the road in front of the castle she saw the gunners of +the batteries that Feller had watched approaching making an +emplacement for their guns in a field of carrots that had not yet +been harvested. The roots of golden yellow were mixed with the +tossing spadefuls of earth.</p> +<p>A shadow like a great cloud in mad flight shot over the earth, +and with the gunners she looked up to see a Gray dirigible. Already +it was turning homeward; already it had gained its object as a +scout. On the fragile platform of the gondola was a man, seemingly +a human mite aiming a tiny toy gun. His target was one of the Brown +aeroplanes.</p> +<p>"They're in danger of cutting their own envelope! They can't get +the angle! The plane is too high!" exclaimed the artillery +commander. Both he and his men forgot their work in watching the +spectacle of aerial David against aerial Goliath. "If our man lands +with his little bomb, oh, my!" he grinned. "That's why he is so +high. He's been waiting up there."</p> +<p>"Pray God he will!" exclaimed one of the gunners.</p> +<p>"Look at him volplane—motor at full speed, too!"</p> +<p>The pilot was young Etzel, who, as Lanstron had observed, would +charge a church tower if he were bidden. He was taking no risks in +missing. His ego had no cosmos except that huge, oblong gas-bag. He +drove for it as a hawk goes for its prey. One life for a number of +lives—the sacrifice of a single aeroplane for a costly +dirigible—that was an exchange in favor of the Browns. And +Etzel had taken an oath in his heart—not standing on a +café table—that he would never let any dirigible that +he attacked escape.</p> +<p>"Into it! Making sure! Oh, splen—O!" cried the artillery +commander.</p> +<p>A ball of lightning shot forth sheets of flame. Dirigible and +plane were hidden in an ugly swirl of yellowish smoke, rolling out +into a purple cloud that spread into prismatic mist over the +descent of cavorting human bodies and broken machinery and twisted +braces, flying pieces of tattered or burning cloth. David has taken +Goliath down with him in a death grip.</p> +<p>An aeroplane following the dirigible as a screen, hoping to get +home with information if the dirigible were lost, had escaped the +sharpshooters in the church tower by flying around the town. +However, it ran within range of the automatic and the sharpshooters +on top of the castle tower. They failed of the bull's-eye, but +their bullets, rimming the target, crippling the motor, and cutting +braces, brought the crumpling wings about the helpless pilot. The +watching gunners uttered "Ahs!" of horror and triumph as they saw +him fall, gliding this way and that, in the agony of slow +descent.</p> +<p>"Come, now!" called the artillery commander. "We are wasting +precious time."</p> +<p>Entering the grounds of the Galland house, Marta had to pass to +one side of the path, now blocked by army wagons and engineers' +materials and tools. Soldiers carrying sand-bags were taking the +shortest cut, trampling the flowers on their way.</p> +<p>"Do you know whose property this is?" she demanded in a burst of +anger.</p> +<p>"Ours—the nation's!" answered one, perspiring freely at +his work. "Sorry!" he added on second thought.</p> +<p>Already parts of the first terrace were shoulder-high with +sand-bags and one automatic had been set in place, Marta observed +as she turned to the veranda. There her mother sat in her favorite +chair, hands relaxed as they rested on its arms, while she looked +out over the valley in the supertranquillity that comes to some +women under a strain—as soldiers who have been on sieges can +tell you—that some psychologists interpret one way and some +another, none knowing even their own wives.</p> +<p>"Marta, did any of the children come?" Mrs. Galland asked in her +usual pleasant tone. So far as she was concerned, the activity on +the terrace did not exist. She seemed oblivious of the fact of +war.</p> +<p>"Yes, seven."</p> +<p>"And did you hold your session?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>Marta's monosyllables absently answering the questions were +expressive of her wonder at her mother. Most girls do not know +their mothers much better than psychologists know their wives.</p> +<p>"I am glad of that, Marta. I am glad you went and sorry that I +opposed your going, because, Marta, whatever happens one should go +regularly about what he considers his duty," said Mrs. Galland. +"They have been as considerate as they could, evidently by Colonel +Lanstron's orders," she proceeded, nodding toward the industrious +engineers. "And they've packed all the paintings and works of art +and put them in the cellar, where they will be safe."</p> +<p>The captain of engineers in command, seeing Marta, hurried +toward her.</p> +<p>"Miss Galland, isn't it?" he asked. "I have been waiting for +you. I—I—well, I found that I could not make the +situation clear to your mother."</p> +<p>"He thinks me in my second childhood or out of my head," Mrs. +Galland explained with a shade of tartness. "And he has been so +polite in trying to conceal his opinion, too," she added with a +comprehending smile.</p> +<p>The captain flushed in embarrassment.</p> +<p>"I—I can't speak too strongly," he declared when he had +regained his composure. "Though everything seems safe here now, it +may not be in an hour. You must go, all of you. This house will be +in an inferno as soon as the 53d falls back, and I can't possibly +get your mother to appreciate the fact, Miss Galland."</p> +<p>"But I said that I did appreciate it and that the Gallands have +been in infernos before—perhaps not as bad as the one that is +coming—but, then, the Gallands must keep abreast of the +times," replied Mrs. Galland. "I have asked Minna and she prefers +to remain. I am glad of that. I am glad now that we kept her, +Marta. She is as loyal as my old maid and the butler and the cook +were to your grandmother in the last war. Ah, the Gallands had many +servants then!"</p> +<p>"This isn't like the old war. This place will be shelled, +enfiladed! And you two—" the captain protested +desperately.</p> +<p>"I became a Galland when I married," said Mrs. Galland, "and the +Galland women have always remained with their property in time of +war. Naturally, I shall remain!"</p> +<p>"Miss Galland, it was you—your influence I was counting on +to—" The captain turned to Marta in a final appeal.</p> +<p>Mrs. Galland was watching her daughter's face intently.</p> +<p>"We stay!" replied Marta, and the captain saw in the depths of +her eyes, a cold blue-black, that further argument was useless.</p> +<p>With a shrug of his shoulders he was turning to go when his +lieutenant, hurrying up and pointing to the row of lindens at the +edge of the estate, exclaimed:</p> +<p>"If we only had those trees out of the way! They cut the line of +our fire! They form cover and protection for the enemy."</p> +<p>"The orders are against it," replied the captain.</p> +<p>"Lanstron may be a great soldier, but—" declared the +lieutenant petulantly.</p> +<p>"Cut the lindens if it will help the Browns!" called Mrs. +Galland.</p> +<p>"Cut the lindens, mother! Is everything to be +destroyed—everything to satisfy the appetite of savagery?" +exclaimed Marta. Then, in an abrupt change of mood, inexplicable to +the captain and even to herself, she added: "My mother says to cut +the lindens. And you will tell us when to go into the house?" Marta +asked the captain.</p> +<p>"Yes. There is no danger yet—none until we see the 53d +falling back."</p> +<p>What mockery, what uncanny staginess for either her mother or +herself to be so calm! Yet, what else were they to do? Were they to +scream? Or fall into each other's arms and sob? Marta found a +strange pleasure in looking at her garden before it was spattered +with blood, as it had been in the last war. It had never seemed +more beautiful. There was a sublimity in nature's obliviousness to +the thrashing of the air with shells in a gentle breeze that +fluttered the petals of the hydrangeas.</p> +<p>The sight of Feller coming along the path of the second terrace +brought in sudden vividness to her mind that question which must +soon be decided: whether or not she would allow him to remain to +carry out his plan. He still had the garden-shears in hand. He was +walking with the slow and soft step which was in keeping with the +serenity of his occupation. Pausing before the chrysanthemum bed, +he touched his hat, and as he awaited her approach he lifted one of +the largest blooms that was drooping from its weight on the slender +stem.</p> +<p>"They look well, don't you think?" he asked cautiously; and he +was very cool, while his eyes had a singular limpidity, speaking +better than any words the sadness of his story and the dependence +of his hope of regeneration upon her.</p> +<p>"Yes, quite the best they ever have," she replied, inclined to +look away from him, conscious of her sensitiveness to his appeal, +and yet still looking at him, while she marvelled at him, at +herself, at everything.</p> +<p>"Thank you," he said. "You don't know how much that means, how +pleased I am."</p> +<p>Now came the sweep of a rising roar from the sky with the +command to attention of the rush of a fast express-train past a +country railway station. Two Gray dirigibles with their escort of +aeroplanes—in formation like that which Mrs. Galland and +Feller had seen race along the frontier—were bearing toward +the pass over the pass road. One glimpse of the squadron was as a +match to Feller's military passion. He swept off his old straw hat +and with it all of the gardener's chrysalis. Feller the artillerist +gazed aloft in feverish excitement.</p> +<p>"Lanny has them guessing! They're bound to know his plans if it +takes all the air craft in the shop!" he exclaimed. "And what are +we doing? Yes, what are we doing?" he cried in alarm as his glance +swept the sky in front of the squadron, already even with the +terrace in its terrific speed.</p> +<p>The automatic and the riflemen in the tower banged away to no +purpose, for the aerostatic officers of the Grays had been apprised +of the danger in that direction.</p> +<p>"Minutes, seconds count! Where are our high-angle guns?" Feller +went on. He was unconsciously gesticulating with all the fervor of +hurrying a battery into place to cover an infantry retreat in a +crisis. "And they're turning! What's the matter? What are +high-angle guns for, anyway, with such targets naked over our +lines? Ah-h! Beautiful!"</p> +<p>The central sections of the envelope of the rear dirigible had +been torn in shreds; it was buckling. Clouds of blue shrapnel smoke +broke around its gondola. A number of field-guns joined forces with +a battery of high-angle guns in a havoc that left a drifting +derelict that had ceased to exist to Feller's mind immediately it +was out of action; for he saw that the remainder of the squadron +had completed its loop and was pointing toward the plain.</p> +<p>"And they were low enough to see all they want to know and +rising now—evidently already out of reach of our +guns—and nothing against them!" he groaned as he saw a clear +sky ahead of the big disk and its attending wings, while clenched +fists pumping up and down with the movement of his forearms shook +his whole body in a palpitation of angry disgust. "Lanny, what's +the matter! Lanny, they've beaten you! Eh? What? What—" A +long whistle broke from his lips. His body still, transfixed, he +cupped his hands over his eyes. "So, that is it! That is your plan, +Lanny, old boy!" he shouted. "But if one of their confounded little +aviators gets back, he has the story!"</p> +<p>From a great altitude, literally out of the blue of heaven, high +over the Gray lines, Marta made out a Brown squadron of dirigibles +and planes descending across the track of the Grays.</p> +<p>"Catch them as they come back! Between them and +home—between the badger and his hole!" Feller went on +explosively; and then, while the two squadrons were approaching at +countering angles, he breathed the thoughts that the spectacle +aroused in his quick brain: "This is war—war! Talk about your +old-fashioned, take-snuff-my-card-sir courage, pray-and-swear +courage—what about this? What about old Lanny's chosen men of +the air, without boasts or oaths, offering their lives in no wild +charge, but coolly, hand on lever, concentratedly, scientifically, +in sane, twentieth-century fashion, just to keep our positions +secret! Now—now for it!"</p> +<p>The Gray dirigibles, stern on, were little larger than umbrellas +and the planes than swallows; the Brown dirigibles, side on, were +big sausages and their planes specks. To the eye, this meeting was +like that of two small flocks of soaring birds apparently unable to +change their course. But imagination could picture the fearful +crash of forces, whose wounded would find the succor of no hospital +except impact on the earth below.</p> +<p>Marta put her hands over her eyes for only a second, she +thought, before she withdrew them in vexation—hadn't she +promised herself not to be cowardly?—to see one Brown +dirigible and two Brown aeroplanes ascending at a sharp angle above +a cloud of smoke to escape the high-angle guns of the Grays.</p> +<p>"We've got them all! No lips survive to tell what the eye saw!" +exclaimed Feller, his words bubbling with the joy of water in the +sunlight. "As I thought," he continued in professional enthusiasm +and discrimination. "We are getting the theory of one feature of +the new warfare in practice. It isn't like the popular dream of +wiping out armies by dropping bombs as you sail overhead. The force +of gravity is against the fliers. You have only to bring them to +earth to put them out of action. Plane driven into plane dirigible +into dirigible, and an end of bomb-dropping and scouting! War will +still be won by the infantry and the guns. Yes, the guns—the +new guns! They—"</p> +<p>Feller recalled with a nervous shock flashing through his system +that he was a gardener, a gentle old gardener. He put his hat back +on a head already bent, while the shoulders, after a pathetic +shrug, drew together in the accustomed stoop. His slim fingers +slipped under the largest chrysanthemum blossom, his attitude the +same as when he had held it up for Marta's inspection before they +heard the roar of the Gray squadron's motors.</p> +<p>"I think that we might cut them all now and fill the vases," he +suggested, a musical, ingratiating note in his voice. "To-morrow we +may not have a chance."</p> +<p>"Yes," she agreed mechanically, her thoughts still dwelling on +the collision of the squadrons.</p> +<p>"And some of the finest ones for you to take now," he added, +plying the shears as he made his selections. "I'll bring the rest," +he concluded when he had gathered a dozen choice blossoms.</p> +<p>His fingers touched hers as the stems changed hands. In his +eyes, showing just below the rim of his hat, was the light which +she had seen first during the dramatic scene in his sitting-room +and the appeal of deference, of suffering, and of the boyish hope +of a cadet.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXI' id="XXI"></a> +<h2>XXI</h2> +<h3>SHE CHANGES HER MIND</h3> +<br> +<p>The indefatigable captain of engineers had turned spectator. +With high-power binoculars glued to his eyes, he was watching to +see if the faint brown line of Dellarme's men were going to hold or +break. If it held, he might have hours in which to complete his +task; if it broke, he had only minutes.</p> +<p>Marta came up the terrace path from the chrysanthemum bed in +time to watch the shroud of shrapnel smoke billowing over the +knoll, to visualise another scene in place of the collision of the +squadrons, and to note the captain's exultation over Fracasse's +repulse.</p> +<p>"How we must have punished them!" he exclaimed to his +lieutenant. "How we must have mowed them down! Lanstron certainly +knew what he was doing."</p> +<p>"You mean that he knew how we should mow them down?" asked +Marta.</p> +<p>Not until she spoke did he realize that she was standing near +him.</p> +<p>"Why, naturally! If we hadn't mowed them down his plan would +have failed. Mowing them down was the only way to hold them back," +he said; and seeing her horror made haste to add: "Miss Galland, +now you know what a ghastly business war is. It will be worse here +than there."</p> +<p>"Yes," she said blankly. Her colorless cheeks, her drooping +underlip convinced him that now, with a little show of masculine +authority, he would gain his point.</p> +<p>"You and your mother must go!" he said firmly.</p> +<p>This was the very thing to whip her thoughts back from the +knoll. He was thunderstruck at the transformation: hot color in her +cheeks, eyes aflame, lips curving around a whirlwind of words.</p> +<p>"You name the very reason why I wish to stay. Why do you want to +save the women? Why shouldn't they bear their share? Why don't you +want them to see men mowed down? Is it because you are ashamed of +your profession? Why, I ask?"</p> +<p>The problem of dealing with an angry woman breaking a shell fire +of questions over his head had not been ready-solved in the +captain's curriculum like other professional problems, nor was it +mentioned in the official instructions about the defences of the +Galland house. He aimed to smile soothingly in the helplessness of +man in presence of feminine fury.</p> +<p>"It is an old custom," he was saying, but she had turned +away.</p> +<p>"Picking flowers! What mockery! Lanny's plan—mow them +down! mow them down! mow them down!" she went on, more to herself +than to him, as she dropped the chrysanthemums on the veranda +table.</p> +<p>In a fire of resolution she hastened back down the terrace +steps. The Grays and the Browns were fighting in their way for +their causes; she must fight in her way for hers. Stopping before +Feller, she seemed taller than her usual self and quivering with +impatience.</p> +<p>"Have you connected the wire to the telephone yet?" she asked +abruptly.</p> +<p>"No, not yet," he answered.</p> +<p>"Then please come with me to the tower!"</p> +<p>Whatever his fears, he held them within the serene bounds of the +gardener's personality, while his covert glimpse of her warned him +against the mistake of trying to dam the current of a passion +running so strong.</p> +<p>"Certainly, Miss Galland," he said agreeably, quite as if there +were nothing unusual in her attitude. No word passed between them +as he kept pace with her rapid gait along the path, but out of the +corner of his eye he surveyed in measuring admiration and curiosity +the straight line of nose and forehead under its heavy crown of +hair, with a few detached and riotous tendrils.</p> +<p>"Bring a lantern!" she said, as they entered his sitting-room, +in a way that left no excuse for refusal.</p> +<p>When he had brought the lantern she took it from his hand and +led the way into the tunnel.</p> +<p>"Please make the connection so that I can speak to Lanny!" she +instructed him after she had pressed the button and the panel door +of the telephone recess flew open.</p> +<p>For an instant he hesitated; then curiosity and the unremitting +authority of her tone had their way. He dropped to his knees, ran +his fingers into an aperture between two stones and made a jointure +of two wire ends.</p> +<p>"All ready!" he said, and eagerly. What a delightfully spirited +rage she was in! And what the devil was she going to do, +anyway?</p> +<p>As she took the receiver from the hook she heard an electric +bell at the other end of the line, but no "Hello!"</p> +<p>"The bell means that Lanny will be called if he is there. No one +except him is to talk over this telephone," Feller explained +softly.</p> +<p>Marta waited for some time before she heard a familiar, calm +voice, with a faint echo of irritation over being interrupted in +the midst of pressing duties.</p> +<p>"Well, Gustave, old boy, it can't be that you are in touch with +Westerling yet?"</p> +<p>"It is I—Marta!" and she came abruptly to the flaming +interrogation that had brought her there. "I want to ask a +question. I want a clear answer—I want everything clear! If +Feller's plan succeeds it means that you will know where the Grays +are going to attack?"</p> +<p>"Yes; why, yes, Marta!"</p> +<p>"So that you can mow them down?"</p> +<p>"That is one way of putting it—yes."</p> +<p>"If I keep your secret—if I let the telephone remain, I am +an accomplice! I shall not be that—not to any kind of murder! +I shall not let the telephone remain!"</p> +<p>"As you will, Marta," he replied. "But anything that leads to +victory means less slaughter in the end. For we have tested our +army well enough to know that only when it is decimated will it +ever retreat from its main line of defence."</p> +<p>"The old argument!" she answered bitterly.</p> +<p>"As you will, Marta! Only, Marta—I plead with +you—please, please leave the house!" he begged +passionately.</p> +<p>Again that request, which was acid to the raw spot of her anger! +Again that assumption that she must desert her own home because +uninvited guests would make it the theatre of their quarrel! How +clear and unassailable her reply in the purview of her distraught +logic!</p> +<p>"Why particularly care for one life when you deal in lives by +the wholesale?" she demanded. "Why think of my life when you are +taking other lives every minute?"</p> +<p>"Because I am human, not just a machine! Because yours is the +one life of all to me—because I love you!" Feller, getting +only one side of the talk, cautiously watching her as he held up +the lantern to throw her face more clearly in relief, saw her start +and caught the sound of a quick indrawing of breath between her +lips, while something electric quivered through her frame. Then, as +one who has twinged from a pin-prick of distraction which she will +not permit to waive her from a white-heat purpose, she exclaimed, +in rapid, stabbing, desperate sentences:</p> +<p>"That! That now! After what I said to you a week ago! That in +the midst of your mowing! No, no, no!" She drove the receiver down +on the hook and blazed out to Feller: "Now you will tear out the +'phone'"</p> +<p>He steadied himself against the wall, covering his face with his +hands, and for the first time in her life she heard a man sob.</p> +<p>"My one chance—my last chance—gone!" he said +brokenly. "The chance for me to redeem myself, so that I might +again look at the flag without shame, taken from me in the name of +mercy, when, by helping to bring victory and shorten the war, I +might have saved thousands of lives!" he proceeded dismally.</p> +<p>"The old argument! Lanny has just used it!" said Marta. But +coming from a man sobbing it sounded differently. His hands fell +away from his face as if they were a dead weight. She saw him a +wreck of a human being with only his eyes alive, regarding her in +harrowing wonder and reproach.</p> +<p>"When I was a gardener eating at the kitchen table, playing the +part of a spy—I who was honor man at the military +school—I who had a conscience that sent me back from the free +life on the plains to try to atone—when I hoped to do this +thing in order to prove that I was fit to die if not to +live——"</p> +<p>He was as a man pitting his last grain of strength against +overwhelming odds. There were long, poignant pauses between his +sentences as he seemed to strive for coherence.</p> +<p>"—in order to prove it for my country, for Lanny, and for +you who have been so kind to me!" he concluded, another dry sob +shaking him.</p> +<p>His chin dropped to his breast. Even the spark in his eyes +flickered out. In the feeble lantern light that deepened the +shadows of his face he was indescribably pitiful. She could not +look away from him. There was something infectious about his misery +that compelled her to feel with his nerves.</p> +<p>"Please," he pleaded faintly—"please leave me to myself. I +will tear out the telephone—trust me—only I wish to be +alone. I am uncertain—I see only dark!"</p> +<p>He sank lower against the wall, his head fell forward, though +not so far but he could see her from under his eyebrows. She +started as she had at the telephone, her breath came in the same +sweep between her lips, and he looked for a passionate refusal; but +it did not come. She seemed in some spell of recollection or +projection of thought. A lustrous veil was over her eyes. She was +not looking at him or at anything in the range of her vision. She +shuddered and abruptly seized her left wrist with her right hand, +as Lanstron had in the arbor, which had brought her cry of "I'm +hurting you!" In this inscrutable attitude she was silent for a +time.</p> +<p>"Let it remain—it means so much to you!" she said wildly, +and hurried past him still clasping her wrist.</p> +<p>He stared into the darkness that closed around her. With the +last sound of her footsteps he became another Gustave Feller, who, +all mercurial vivacity, clucked his tongue against the roof of his +mouth with a "La, la, la!" as his hand shot out for the receiver. +There it paused, and still another idea animated still another +Gustave Feller.</p> +<p>"Why not tear out the telephone—why not?" he mused. "Why +didn't I agree to her plan? Why can't I ever carry more than one +thing in mind at once? I forgot that we were at war. I forget that +I am already at the front. I have skill! God knows, I ought to have +courage! Volunteers who have both are always welcome in war. Any +number of gunners will be killed! When an artillery colonel saw +what I could do he would take me on without further questioning. +Then I should not be a spy, shuffling and whining, but +bang-bang-bang on the target!"</p> +<p>In imagination he now had a gun. His hand made a movement of +manipulation, head bent, eye sighting.</p> +<p>"How do you like that? You will like this one less! And here's +another—but, no, no!" He dropped against the wall again; he +drove his nails into his palms in a sort of castigation. "I am the +same as a soldier now—a soldier assigned to a definite duty +for my flag. I should break my word of honor—a soldier's word +of honor! No, not that again!"</p> +<p>He snatched down the receiver to make sure that temptation did +not reappear in too luring a guise, and still another Gustave +Feller was in the ascendant.</p> +<p>"Didn't I say to trust it to me, Lanny?" he called merrily. +"Miss Galland consents!"</p> +<p>"She does? Good! Good for you, Gustave!"</p> +<p>"Her second thought," Feller rejoined. "And, Lanny," he +proceeded in boyish enthusiasm, using a slang word of military +school days, "it was bulludgeous the way we brought down their +planes and dirigibles! How I ache to be in it when the guns are so +busy! With batteries back of the house and an automatic in the +yard, things seem very homelike. I—"</p> +<p>"Gustave," interrupted Lanstron, "we all have our weaknesses, +and perhaps yours is to play a part. So keep away from the fight +and don't think of the guns!"</p> +<p>"I will, I swear!" Feller answered fervently. "One thought, one +duty! I'll 'phone you when the house is taken, and if you don't +hear from me again, why, you'll know the plan has failed and I'm a +prisoner. But, trust me, Lanny! Trust me—for my flag and my +country against the invader!"</p> +<p>"Against the invader—that justifies all! And get Miss +Galland out of it. You seem to have influence with her. Get her out +of it!"</p> +<p>"Trust me!"</p> +<p>"Bless you, and God with you!"</p> +<p>"One thought, one duty!" repeated Feller with the devoutness of +a monk trying to forget everything except his aves as he started +toward the stairway. "I wonder if we still hold the knoll!" he +mused, extinguishing the lantern. "We do! we do!" he cried when he +was in the doorway. "Oh, this is life!" he added after a deep-drawn +breath, watching the little clouds of shrapnel smoke here and there +along the base of the range.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXII' id="XXII"></a> +<h2>XXII</h2> +<h3>FLOWERS FOR THE WOUNDED</h3> +<br> +<p>Was there nothing for Marta to do? Could she only look on in a +fever of restlessness while action roared around her? On the way +from the tower to the house the sight of several automobile +ambulances in the road at the foot of the garden stilled the throbs +of distraction in her temples with an answer. The wounded! They +were already coming in from the field. She hurried down the terrace +steps. The major surgeon in charge, surprised to find any woman in +the vicinity, was about to tell her so automatically; then, in view +of her intensity, he waited for her to speak.</p> +<p>"You will let us do something for them?" Marta asked. "We will +make them some hot soup."</p> +<p>He was immediately businesslike. No less than Dellarme or +Fracasse or Lanstron or Westerling, he had been preparing +throughout his professional career for this hour. The detail of +caring for the men who were down had been worked out no less +systematically than that of wounding them.</p> +<p>"Thank you, no! We don't want to waste time," he replied. "We +must get them away with all speed so that the ambulances may return +promptly. It's only a fifteen-minute run to the hospital, where +every comfort and appliance are ready and where they will be given +the right things to eat."</p> +<p>"Then we will give them some wine!" Marta persisted.</p> +<p>"Not if we can prevent it! Not to start hemorrhages! The field +doctors have brandy for use when advisable, and there is brandy +with all the ambulances."</p> +<p>Clearly, volunteer service was not wanted. There was no room at +the immediate front for Florence Nightingales in the modern machine +of war.</p> +<p>"Then water?"</p> +<p>The major surgeon aimed to be patient to an earnest, attractive +young woman.</p> +<p>"We have sterilized water—we have everything," he +explained. "If we hadn't at this early stage I ought to be serving +an apprenticeship in a village apothecary shop. Anything that means +confusion, delay, unnecessary excitement is bad and +unmerciful."</p> +<p>Marta was not yet at the end of her resources. The recollection +of the dying private who had asked her mother for a rose in the +last war flashed into mind.</p> +<p>"You haven't flowers! They won't do any harm, even if they +aren't sterilized. The wounded like flowers, don't they? Don't you +like flowers? Look! We've millions!"</p> +<p>"Yes, I do. They do. A good idea. Bring all the flowers you want +to."</p> +<p>The major surgeon's smile to Marta was not altogether on account +of her suggestion. "It ought to help anybody who was ever wounded +anywhere in the world to have you give him a flower!" he was +thinking.</p> +<p>She ran for an armful of blossoms and was back before the +arrival of the first wounded man who preceded the stretchers on +foot. He was holding up a hand bound in a white first-aid bandage +which had a red spot in the centre. Those hit in hand or arm, if +the surgeon's glance justified it, were sent on up the road to a +point a mile distant, where transportation in requisitioned +vehicles was provided. These men were triumphant in their +cheerfulness. They were alive; they had done their duty, and they +had the proof of it in the coming souvenirs of scars.</p> +<p>Some of the forms on stretchers had peaceful faces in +unconsciousness of their condition. Others had a look of wonder, of +pain, of apprehension in their consciousness that death might be +near. The single word "Shrapnel!" by a hospital-corps corporal told +the story of crushed or lacerated features, in explanation of a +white cloth covering a head with body uninjured.</p> +<p>Feller, strolling out into the garden under the spell of +watching shell bursts, saw what Marta was doing. With the same +feeling of relief at opportunity for action that she had felt, he +hastened to assist her, bringing flowers by the basketful and +pausing to watch her distribute them—watching her rather than +the wounded and enjoying incidental thrills at examples of the +efficiency of artillery fire.</p> +<p>"The guns—the guns are going to play a great part!" he +thought. "These rapid-firers will recover all the artillery's +prestige of Napoleon's time!"</p> +<p>Many of the wounded themselves looked at Marta even more than at +the flowers. It was good to see the face of a woman, her eyes +limpid with sympathy, and it was not what she said but the way she +spoke that brought smiles in response to hers. For she was no +solemn ministering angel, but high-spirited, cheery, of the sort +that the major surgeon would have chosen to distribute flowers to +the men. Every remark of the victims of war made its distinct and +indelible impression on the gelatine of her mind.</p> +<p>"I like my blue aster better than that yellow weed of yours, +Tom!"</p> +<p>"You didn't know Ed Schmidt got it? Yes, he was right next me in +the line."</p> +<p>"Say, did you notice Dellarme's smile? It was wonderful."</p> +<p>"And old Bert Stransky! I heard him whistling the wedding march +as he fired."</p> +<p>"Miss, I'll keep this flower forever!"</p> +<p>"They say Billy Lister will live—his cheek was shot +away!"</p> +<p>"Once we got going I didn't mind. It seemed as if I'd been +fighting for years!"</p> +<p>"Hole no bigger than a lead-pencil. I'll be back in a week!"</p> +<p>"Yes; don't these little bullets make neat little holes?"</p> +<p>"We certainly gave them a surprise when they came up the hill! I +wonder if we missed the fellow that jumped into the shell +crater!"</p> +<p>"Our company got it worst!"</p> +<p>"Not any worse than ours, I'll wager!"</p> +<p>"Oh—oh—can't you go easier? Oh-h-h—" the groan +ending in a clenching of the teeth.</p> +<p>"Hello, Jake! You here, too, and going in my automobile? And +we've both got lower berths!"</p> +<p>"Sh-h! That poor chap's dying!"</p> +<p>Worst of all to Marta was the case of a shrapnel fracture of the +cranium, with the resulting delirium, in which the sufferer's +incoherence included memories of childhood scenes, moments on the +firing-line, calls for his mother, and prayers to be put out of +misery. A prod of the hypodermic from the major surgeon, and "On +the operating-table in fifteen minutes" was the answer to Marta's +question if the poor fellow would live.</p> +<p>Until dark, in groups, at intervals, and again singly, the +wounded were coming in from a brigade front in the region where the +rifles were crackling and the shrapnel clouds were hanging prettily +over the hills; and stretchers were being slipped into place in the +ambulances, while Marta kept at her post.</p> +<p>"We shan't have much more to do at this station," said the major +surgeon when a plodding section of infantry in retreat arrived.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXIII' id="XXIII"></a> +<h2>XXIII</h2> +<h3>STRANSKY FIGHTS ALONE</h3> +<br> +<p>Every unit engrossed in his own work! Every man taught how a +weak link may break a chain and realizing himself as a link and +only a link! The captain of engineers forgot Marta's existence as +an error of his subordinates caught his eye, and he went to caution +the axemen to cut closer to the ground, as stumps gave cover for +riflemen. For the time being he had no more interest in the knoll +than in the wreckage of dirigibles which were down and out of the +fight.</p> +<p>After all, the knoll was only a single point on the vast staff +map—only one of many points of a struggle whose progress was +bulletined through the siftings of regimental, brigade, division, +and corps headquarters in net results to the staff. Partow and +Lanstron overlooked all. Their knowledge made the vast map live +under their eyes. But our concern is with the story of two +regiments, and particularly of two companies, and that is story +enough. If you would grasp the whole, multiply the conflict on the +knoll by ten thousand.</p> +<p>There had been the engrossment of transcendent emotion in +repelling the charge. What followed was like some grim and +passionless trance with triggers ticking off the slow-passing +minutes. Dellarme aimed to keep down the fusillade from Fracasse's +trench and yet not to neglect the fair targets of the reserves +advancing by rushes to the support of the 128th. Reinforced, the +gray streak at the bottom of the slope poured in a heavier fire. +Above the steady crackle of bullets sent and the whistle of bullets +received rose the cry of "Doctor! Doctor!" which meant each time +that another Brown rifle had been silenced. The litter bearers, +hard pressed to remove the wounded, left the dead. Already death +was a familiar sight—an article of exchange in which +Dellarme's men dealt freely. The man at Stransky's side had been +killed outright. He lay face down on his rifle stock. His cap had +fallen off. Stransky put it back on the man's head, and the example +was followed in other cases. It was a good idea to keep up a show +of a full line of caps to the enemy.</p> +<p>Suddenly, as by command, the fire from the base of the knoll +ceased altogether. Dellarme understood at once what this +meant—the next step in the course of a systematic, +irresistible approach by superior numbers. It was to allow the +ground scouts to advance. Individual gray spots detaching +themselves from the gray streak began to crawl upward in search of +dead spaces where the contour of the ground would furnish some +protection from the blaze of bullets from the crest.</p> +<p>"Over their heads! Don't try to hit them!" Dellarme passed the +word.</p> +<p>"That's it! Spare one to get a dozen!" said Stransky, grinning +in ready comprehension. He seemed to be grinning every time that +Dellarme looked in that direction. He was plainly enjoying himself. +His restless nature had found sport to its taste.</p> +<p>The creeping scouts must have signalled back good news, for +groups began crawling slowly after them.</p> +<p>"Over their heads! Encourage them!" Dellarme commanded.</p> +<p>After they had advanced two or three hundred yards they stopped, +shoulders and hands exposed in silhouette, and began to work +feverishly with their spades.</p> +<p>"Now let them have it!"</p> +<p>"Oh, beautiful!" cried Stransky. "That baby captain of ours has +some brains, after all! We'll get them now and we'll get them when +they run!"</p> +<p>But they did not run. Unfalteringly they took their punishment +while they turned over the protecting sod in the midst of their own +dead and wounded. In a few minutes they had dropped spades for +rifles, and other sections either crawled or ran forward +precipitately and fell to the task of joining the isolated +beginnings into a single trench.</p> +<p>Again Dellarme looked toward regimental headquarters, his fixed, +cheery smile not wholly masking the appeal in his eyes. The Grays +had only two or three hundred yards to go when they should make +their next charge in order to reach the crest. But his men had +fifteen hundred to go in the valley before they were out of range. +After their brave resistance facing the enemy they would receive a +hail of bullets in their backs. This was the time to withdraw if +there were to be assurance of a safe retreat. But there was no +signal. Until there was, he must remain.</p> +<p>The trench grew; the day wore on. Two rifles to one were now +playing against his devoted company, which had had neither food nor +drink since early morning. As he scanned his thinning line he saw a +look of bloodlessness and hopelessness gathering on the set faces +of which he had grown so fond during this ordeal. Some of the men +were crouching too much for effective aim.</p> +<p>"See that you fire low! Keep your heads up!" he called. "For +your homes, your country, and your God! Pass the word along!"</p> +<p>Parched throat after parched throat repeated the message +hoarsely and leaden shoulders raised a trifle and dust-matted +eyelashes narrowed sharply on the sights.</p> +<p>"For the man in us!" growled Stransky. "For the favor of nature +at birth that gave us the right to wear trousers instead of skirts! +For the joy of hell, give them hell!"</p> +<p>"For our homes! For the man in us!" they repeated, swallowing +the words as if they had the taste of a stimulant. But Dellarme +knew that it would not take much to precipitate a break. He himself +felt that he had been on that knoll half a lifetime. He looked at +his watch and it was five o'clock. For seven hours they had held +on. The Grays' trench was complete the breadth of the slope; more +reserves were coming up. The brigade commander of the Grays was +going to make sure that the next charge succeeded.</p> +<p>At last Dellarme's glance toward regimental headquarters showed +the flag that was the signal for withdrawal. Could he accomplish +it? The first lieutenant, with a shattered arm, had gone on a +litter. The old sergeant was dead, a victim of the colonial wars. +Used to fighting savage enemies, he had been too eager in exposing +himself to a civilized foe. He had been shot through the +throat.</p> +<p>"Men of the first section," Dellarme called, "you will slip out +of line with the greatest care not to let the enemy know that you +are going!"</p> +<p>"Going—going! Careful! Men of the first section going!" +the parched throats repeated in a thrilling whisper.</p> +<p>"Those who remain keep increasing their fire!" called Dellarme +again. "Cover the whole breadth of the trench!"</p> +<p>Every fourth man wormed himself backward on his stomach until he +was below the sky-line, when his stiffened limbs brought him to his +feet and he started on a dead run down into the valley and toward a +cut behind another knoll across the road from the Galland +house.</p> +<p>"Tom Fragini, with your corporal dead I put you in charge of the +first section! What are you waiting for, Corporal Fragini?"</p> +<p>Tom was bending over Grandfather Fragini, who had been forgotten +by everybody in the ordeal. The old man was lying where he had +fallen after the first burst of shrapnel.</p> +<p>"Can't go! Got a game leg!" said grandfather, pointing to a +swollen ankle that had been bruised by a piece of shrapnel jacket +that had lost most of its velocity before striking him. "You do +your duty and leave me alone. I ain't a fighting man any more. I +done my work when I steadied you young fellows."</p> +<p>"Yes, go on, Fragini," said Dellarme. "Attend to your men. +Everybody in his place. We'll get the old man away on a +litter."</p> +<p>"Yes, you go or you ain't any grandson of mine!" shouted the old +man in a high-pitched voice. "Just been promoted, too! You'll be up +for insubordination in a minute, you young whelp!"</p> +<p>Dellarme meant to look after grandfather, but his attention was +engrossed in seeing that his men withdrew cautiously, for every +minute that he was able to delay the enemy's charge was vital. He +himself picked up a rifle in order to increase the volume of fire +when the third section was starting. As the fourth and last section +drew off he uttered his first cry of triumph of the day as his +final look revealed the Grays still in place. But they would not +wait long once all fire from the knoll had ceased. Stransky, who +was in the fourth section, remained to give a parting shot.</p> +<p>"Good-by, d—— you!" he called to the Grays. "You'll +hear more from me later!"</p> +<p>Then Dellarme saw that grandfather had not yet been carried away +and no litters remained. What was to be done? Grandfather was +prompt with his own view.</p> +<p>"Just leave me behind. I've done my work, I tell you!" he +declared.</p> +<p>"Can't lose you, grandpop!" said Stransky.</p> +<p>Quickly shifting his pack to the ground, he squatted with his +back to the old man.</p> +<p>"I ain't going to—and you're a traitor, anyway; that's +what you are!"</p> +<p>"No back talk! No politics in this!" Stransky replied. "Get up! +You carry your skin and I'll carry your bones. Get up quick!"</p> +<p>With Dellarme's authoritative assistance grandfather mounted. +Then Dellarme put Stransky's pack on his own back.</p> +<p>"Let me carry your rifle, too," he said to Stransky as they +started.</p> +<p>"Not much!" answered Stransky. "I was just married to that rifle +this morning. We're on our honeymoon trip and getting fairly well +acquainted, and expect shortly to settle down to a busy domestic +life."</p> +<p>He set off at a lope and gained the rear of the section in his +first burst of speed. As the other men got their second wind, +however, Stransky began to puff and they soon drew away from +him.</p> +<p>"Put me down! I ain't going to depend on any traitor that +insulted the flag!" protested grandfather.</p> +<p>"That's the way! Call out to me now and then so I'll know you're +there," said Stransky. "You're so light I mightn't know it if you +fell off."</p> +<p>Dellarme did not think it right to expose the last section by +asking it to delay. Shepherd of his flock and miser of his pieces +of gold, now that their work was done the one thing he wanted in +the world was that they should escape without further punishment. +Already the van of the first section was disappearing into the cut +in safety. But the fourth section, which had held to the last, had +yet a thousand yards to go over a path bare of cover except a +single small bush. At any moment he expected to hear a cheer from +the knoll, and what would follow the cheer he knew only too well. +Yet he tarried with Stransky out of one man's impulse not to desert +another in danger. At the same time he was wroth with the old man +for having made such a nuisance of himself.</p> +<p>"What are you waiting for?" Stransky demanded of Dellarme.</p> +<p>"I like good company," answered Dellarme cheerfully.</p> +<p>"Compliment for you, grandfather!" said Stransky.</p> +<p>"Put me down!" screamed grandfather.</p> +<p>"Still there, eh? Thanks, grandpop!" said Stransky, turning on +Dellarme. "Can't you run any faster than that, captain? Your place +is with your men, sir. If you got wounded I'd have to carry you, +too. Your company's gaining on you every minute. Hurry up!"</p> +<p>From the peremptory way that he spoke, Dellarme might have been +the private and Stransky the officer.</p> +<p>"Right!" said Dellarme in face of such unanswerable military +logic, and broke into a run.</p> +<p>Stransky adapted himself to a pace which he thought he could +maintain, and plodded on, eyes on the bush as a half-way point. +After a while he heard a mighty hurrah, which was cut short +abruptly; then spits of dust about their feet hastened the steps of +the last section, which was near the cut. He saw men drop out of +line to make a cradle of their arms for comrades who had been hit; +and these finally passed out of danger with their burdens.</p> +<p>"No flock in sight! It's the turn of the individual birds!" +thought Stransky, and heard a familiar sound about his ears.</p> +<p>"Bullets!" exclaimed grandfather. "Don't whistle like they used +to. They kind of crack and sizzle now. Maybe if they hit me I'll +stop 'em, and that'll save you."</p> +<p>"That's so," replied Stransky glumly, realizing that he was +running with a human shield on his back. "But they'll go right +through him he's so thin," he thought in relief. The worst of it +was that he had to receive without sending, which made him boil +with rage. He wished that the bush had legs so it could run toward +him; he half believed that it had and was retreating. "They're +shooting right at us, and that's in our favor. It's hard to get the +bull's-eye at that range," he assured grandfather.</p> +<p>Whish-whish-whish! Enough pellets were singing by to have torn +away the rim of the target, yet none got the centre before Stransky +dropped behind the bush. Blessed bush! Back of it was a bowlder. +Thrice-blessed bowlder! It protected grandfather as securely as the +armor of a battleship.</p> +<p>"We are having a noisy time," remarked Stransky as two or three +of the leaves fell. "Intelligent thieves! How did you guess we were +here?" and he put his big thumb to his big nose.</p> +<p>"But they didn't know about the bowlder!" said the old man with +a senile giggle. "Say, I didn't mean it when I called you a +traitor—not after the fight! I just said that to make you mad +so you'd put me down and we shouldn't lose a good fighting man +trying to save an old bag of bones like me. You ain't no traitor! +You're a patriot!"</p> +<p>"More politics, when I'm simply full of cussedness!" grumbled +Stransky. "Not having any home, I'm fighting to save the other +fellows' homes, principally because I was married this morning by a +shrapnel-shell to a lady that understands me perfectly. Say, shall +we give them a few?" he asked with a squint down the bridge of his +nose as he took up his rifle.</p> +<p>"Yes, give 'em a few!" grandfather urged when they ought to have +remained quiet, as the firing was dying down. It was not worth +while to shoot at a bush, and after all the torrent of lead that +they had poured into the bush the Grays had concluded that nothing +behind it could remain alive.</p> +<p>Stransky aimed at a head and shoulder on the sky-line, which he +took for those of an officer, and was accurate enough to make the +head and shoulders duck and to get a swarm of bullets in +return.</p> +<p>"Children, why will you waste your country's ammunition?" said +Stransky, firing again.</p> +<p>"That's the way to talk!" said grandfather approvingly. "Nothing +like a little gayety and ginger in war."</p> +<p>Now a Brown battery whose fire could be spared from other work +dropped a few shells on the knoll and so occupied the attention of +the 128th that it had no time to attend to occasional bullets from +snipers.</p> +<p>"Think we're no account! Shall we charge them now we've got the +support of the guns?" chuckled Stransky.</p> +<p>"You Hussar, you!" Grandfather gave Stransky a slap on the back. +"With a thousand like you we could charge me whole army, if the +general would let us!"</p> +<p>"But he wouldn't let us," replied Stransky. "I could even tell +you why."</p> +<p>With the shadows gathering he slipped back to grandfather's +side, and after it was quite dark he said that it was time for the +old Hussar to mount his fiery steed. Grandfather's hands slipped +from around Stransky's neck at the first trial; with the next, +Stransky took the bony fingers in his grip and held them clasped on +his chest with one hand, proceeding as quietly as he could, for he +had an idea that the Grays were already moving down from the knoll +under cover of night.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir, I'm glad I came!" said grandfather faintly and +meanderingly. "I wasn't sure about Tom—all this new-fangled +education and these uniforms without any color in 'em. But I saw +him firing away steady as a rock; yes, sir! I was in it, too, under +fire! It made my heart thump-thump like the old days. And we're +going to hold 'em—we're going to teach the +land-sharks—I'm very happy—made my heart thump +so—kind of tired me—"</p> +<p>The old man's voice died away into silence. His knees weakened +their grip and his legs swung pendulum-like with Stransky's +steps.</p> +<p>"What about me for a sleeping-car!" thought Stransky. "But he's +certainly harder to carry."</p> +<p>Yet it pleased Stransky not to waken his passenger until they +reached the station his ticket called for. Entering the cut, he was +halted by the challenging cry of "Who goes there?" in his own +tongue.</p> +<p>"Stransky of the Reds!" he roared back. "Stransky, private of +the 53d—Stransky and his bride and grandfather!"</p> +<p>"All right, Bert!" was the answer. "Hurrah for you! I'd know +your old bull voice out of a thousand."</p> +<p>Even this did not arouse grandfather. Stransky trudged on past +the sentry, across a road and up three series of steps of a garden +terrace, through a breach in a breastwork of sand-bags, and was +again at home—the only home he knew—among the comrades +of his company. Most of them had fallen asleep on the ground after +finishing their rations, logs of men in animal exhaustion. Some of +those awake were too weary to give more than a nod and smile and an +exclamation of delight. They had witnessed too much horror that day +to be excited over a soldier with an old man on his back. A few of +the others, including Tom Fragini, gathered around the pair.</p> +<p>"We've arrived, grandfather!" said Stransky, squatting. There +was no answer. "He certainly sleeps sound. I wonder if—."</p> +<p>"Yes," said Dellarme, who with Tom eased the fall of the limp +body.</p> +<p>The thumping of an old man's heart with the youth of a Hussar +had been too much for it.</p> +<p>"He was game!" said Stransky. "There isn't much in this world +except to be game, I've concluded; and you can't be so old or so +poor or so big-nosed and wall-eyed that you can't be game."</p> +<p>Marta, coming out on the veranda, had not heard his remark, but +she had seen a leonine sort of private bearing an old man on his +back and had guessed that he had remained behind to save a life +when every man in uniform had been engaged in taking life.</p> +<p>"You are tired! You are hungry!" she said with urgent +gentleness. "Come in!"</p> +<p>He followed her into the house and dropped on a leather chair +before a shining table in a room panelled with oak, wondering at +her and at himself. No woman of Marta's world had ever spoken in +that way to him. But it was good to sit down. Then a maid with a +sad, winsome face and tender eyes brought him wine and bread and +cold meat and jam. He gulped down a glassful of the wine; he ate +with great mouthfuls in the ravenous call of healthy, exhausted +tissues, while the maid stood by to cut more bread.</p> +<p>"When it comes to eating after fighting—"</p> +<p>He looked up when the first pangs of hunger were assuaged. +Enormous, broad-shouldered, physical, his cheeks flushed with the +wine, his eyes opened wide and brilliant with the fire that was in +his nature—eyes that spoke the red business of anarchy and +war.</p> +<p>"Say, but you're pretty!"</p> +<p>Springing up, he caught her hand and made to kiss her in the +brashness of impulse. Minna struck him a stinging blow in the face. +He received it as a mastiff would receive a bite from a pup, and +she stood her ground, her eyes challenging his fearlessly.</p> +<p>"So you are like that!" he said thoughtfully. "It was a good +one, and you meant it, too."</p> +<p>"Decidedly!" she answered. "There's more where that came +from!"</p> +<p>"As I was telling the Grays this afternoon! Good for you!" He +sat down again composedly, while she glared at him. "I'm still +hungry. I've had wine enough; but would you cut me another slice of +bread?"</p> +<p>She cut another slice and he covered it generously with jam. +Then little Clarissa Eileen entered and pressed against her +mother's skirts, subjecting Stransky to childhood's scrutiny. He +waved a finger at her and grinned and drew his eyes together in a +squint at the bridge of his nose, making a funny face that brought +a laugh.</p> +<p>"Your child?" Stransky asked Minna.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Where's her father? Away fighting?"</p> +<p>"I don't know where he is!"</p> +<p>"Oh!" he mused. "Was that blow for him at the same time as for +me?" he pursued thoughtfully.</p> +<p>"Yes, for all of your kind."</p> +<p>"M-m-m!" came from between his lips as he rose. "Would you mind +holding out your hand?" he asked with a gentleness singularly out +of keeping with his rough aspect.</p> +<p>"Why?" she demanded.</p> +<p>"I've never studied any books of etiquette of polite society, +and I am a poor sort at making speeches, anyhow. But I want to kiss +a good woman's hand by way of apology. I never kissed one in my +life, but I'm getting a lot of new experiences to-day. Will +you?"</p> +<p>She held out her hand at arm's length and flushed slightly as he +pressed his lips to it.</p> +<p>"You certainly do cut thick slices of bread," he said, smiling. +"And you certainly are pretty," he added, passing out of the door +as jauntily as if he were ready for another fight and just in time +to see the colonel of the regiment come around the house. He stood +at the salute, half proudly, half defiantly, but in nowise +humbly.</p> +<p>"Well, Major Dellarme!" was the colonel's greeting of the +company commander.</p> +<p>"Major?" exclaimed Dellarme.</p> +<p>"Yes. Partow has the power. Four of the aviators have iron +crosses already and promotion, too; and you are a major. Company G +got into a mess and the whole regiment would have been in one +unless you held on. So I let you stay. It all came out right, as +Lanstron planned—right so far. But your losses have been +heavy and here you are in the thick of it again. Your company may +change places with Company E, which has had a relatively easy +time."</p> +<p>"No, sir; we would prefer to stay," Dellarme answered +quietly.</p> +<p>"Good! Then you will take this battalion and I'll transfer +Groller to Alvery's Bad loss, Alvery—shrapnel. The artillery +has been doing ugly work, but that is all in favor of the +defensive. If we can hold them on this line till to-morrow noon, +it's all we want for the present," he concluded.</p> +<p>"We'll hold them! Don't worry!" put in Stransky.</p> +<p>If a private had spoken to a colonel in this fashion at drill, +without being spoken to, it would have been a glaring breach of +military etiquette. Now that they were at war it was different. +Real comradeship between officer and man begins with war.</p> +<p>"We shall, eh?" chuckled the colonel. "You look big enough to +hold anything, young man! Here! Isn't this the fellow that Lanstron +got off?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," answered Dellarme.</p> +<p>"Well, was Lanstron right?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"Wonderful man, Lanstron!"</p> +<p>"He knows just' a little too much!" Stransky half growled.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXIV' id="XXIV"></a> +<h2>XXIV</h2> +<h3>THE MAKING OF A HERO</h3> +<br> +<p>A digression, this, about pale, little Peterkin, the valet's +son, whom we left nibbling a biscuit in perfect security after his +leap in mortal terror. When Fracasse's men rose from their trench +for the final charge and found that the enemy had gone, Peterkin, +hearing their cheer and the thunderous tread of their feet, dared +to look above the edge of the shell crater. Here was his company +coming and he not in the ranks where he belonged. Of course he +ought to have gone back with them when they went; whatever they did +he ought to do. This was the only safe way for one of his incurable +stupidity, as the drill sergeant had told him repeatedly.</p> +<p>He recognized the stocky butcher's son and other familiar +figures among his comrades. Their legs, unlike his, had not been +paralyzed with fright; they had been able to run. He was in an +absolute minority of one, which he knew, from the experience of his +twenty years of life and his inheritance as a valet's son, meant +that he was utterly in the wrong. In a minute they would be +sweeping down on him. They would be jeering him and calling him a +rabbit or something worse for hiding in the ground.</p> +<p>Fright prompted him to a fresh impulse. Picking up his rifle, +which he had not touched since his leap, he faced toward the now +unoccupied crest of the knoll and commenced firing. Meanwhile, +Fracasse's men had reached the point where their first charge had +broken, marked by a line of bodies, including that of the +manufacturer's son, who had thought that war would be beneficial as +a deterrent to strikes and an impetus to industry, lying with his +head on his arm, his neck twisted, and the whites of his eyes idled +skyward. In a spasm of sickening realization of how impossible it +was for those who had not run back to survive between two lines of +fire, they heard a shot from the ground at their feet and beheld +the runt of the company in the act of making war single-handed. It +was a miracle! It was like the dead coming to life!</p> +<p>"Peterkin?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Peterkin!"</p> +<p>"With a whole skin!"</p> +<p>Probably it was a great mistake for him to have a whole skin, +thought Peterkin. He scrambled to his feet and kept pace with the +others, hoping that he would be overlooked in the ranks.</p> +<p>"I'm so glad! Dear little Peterkin!" said Hugo Mallin, who was +at Peterkin's side.</p> +<p>His knowledge of Hugo's gentle nature convinced Peterkin that +Hugo was trying to soften the forthcoming reprimand.</p> +<p>When their feet at last actually stood on the knoll which had +dealt death to their ranks and they saw the brown figures of the +enemy that had driven them back in full flight, the men of the +128th felt the thrill of triumph won in the face of bullets. This +is a thrill by itself, primitive and masculine, that calls the +imagination of men to war for war's sake. Pilzer, the butcher's +son, wanted to kill for the sheer joy and revenge of killing. He +rejoiced in the dead and the blood spots that, as clearly as the +trench itself, marked the line that Dellarme's men had occupied +along the crest of the knoll. It pleased him to use one of the +bodies as a rest for his rifle, while he laid his sight in ecstasy +on the large target of two men of the last section who were +bringing off one of the wounded, and he swore when they got +away.</p> +<p>"But there's another out there all alone!" he cried. "Better say +your prayers, for I'm going to get you," he whispered; though, as +we know, Stransky was not hit.</p> +<p>Peterkin had been doing his best to make amends for past errors +by present enthusiasm of application. He fired no less earnestly +than the butcher's son. Now that Eugene Aronson was dead, Pilzer +had become Peterkin's chief patron and guide. He would be doing +right if he did what that brave Pilzer did, he was thinking, while +he was conscious of Fracasse's eyes boring into his back. With the +others, but no more expeditiously, however frightened, he fell back +to cover from the burst of shell fire; and then, with the word to +break ranks, he found himself the centre of a group including not +only his captain but the colonel of the regiment. He could not +quite make out the expressions on their faces, but he surmised that +they were wondering how any man born under the flag of the Grays +could be such a coward as he was. Probably he would be shot at +sunrise.</p> +<p>"How did it happen?" Fracasse asked.</p> +<p>His tone was very pleasant, but Peterkin felt that this was only +the calmness of a judge hearing the evidence of a culprit. +Punishment would be, accordingly, the more drastic. He was too +scared to tell the truth. He spoke softly, with the mealy tongue of +a valet father who never explained why the wine was low in the +decanter by any reference to a weakness of his own palate.</p> +<p>"I didn't hear the whistle to fall back," he said, "so I +stayed."</p> +<p>"Didn't hear the whistle!" exclaimed the captain. He looked at +the colonel and the colonel looked at him. The colonel stroked his +mustache as if it were a nice mustache. "There wasn't any whistle," +said Fracasse with a wry grin.</p> +<p>"Yes, my boy; and then?" asked the colonel, who had never before +called any private in his regiment "my boy."</p> +<p>A bright light broke on Peterkin. Inherited instinct did not +permit him to show much emotion on his face, and he had, too, an +inherited gift of invention. He rubbed his rifle stock with his +palm and bowed much in the fashion of the parent washing his hands +in gratitude for a compliment.</p> +<p>"And I didn't want to run," he continued. "I wanted to take that +hill. That was what we were told to do, wasn't it, sir?"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes!" said the colonel. "Go on!"</p> +<p>The light grew brighter, showing Peterkin's imagination the way +to higher flights.</p> +<p>"I jumped quick into the crater, knowing that if I jumped quick +I would not be hit," he proceeded, his thin voice accentuating his +deferential modesty. "My! but the bullets were thick, going both +ways! But I remembered the lectures to recruits said that it took a +thousand to kill a man. I found that I had cover from the bullets +from our side and some cover from their side. I could not lie there +doing nothing, I decided, after I had munched biscuits for a +while—"</p> +<p>"Coolly munching biscuits!" exclaimed the colonel.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir; so I began firing every time I had a chance and I +picked off a number, I think, sir."</p> +<p>"My boy," said the colonel, putting his hand on Peterkin's +shoulder, "I am going to recommend you for the bronze cross."</p> +<p>The bronze cross—desired of generals and +privates—for Peterkin, when Pilzer had been so confident that +he should win the first that came to the 128th now that Eugene +Aronson was dead!</p> +<p>"I—I—" stammered Peterkin.</p> +<p>"And so modest about it!" added the colonel. "Remembered the +lectures to recruits and acted on them faithfully!"</p> +<p>The old spirit of the nation was not dead. Here it was +reappearing in a valet's son, as it was bound to reappear in all +classes! Yes, Peterkin had supplied the one shining incident of the +costly day to the colonel, who found himself without his +headquarters for the night at the Galland house as planned, waiting +for orders on this confounded little knoll. He was wondering if his +regiment would be out in reserve and given a rest on the morrow, +when an officer of the brigade staff brought instructions:</p> +<p>"The batteries are going to emplace here for your support in the +morning. You will move as soon as your men have eaten and occupy +positions B-31 to B-35. That gives you a narrow front for one +battalion, with two battalions in reserve to drive home your +attack. The chief of staff himself desires that we take the Galland +house before noon. The enemy must not have the encouragement of any +successes."</p> +<p>"So easy for Westerling to say," thought the colonel; while +aloud he acknowledged the message with proper spirit.</p> +<p>Before the order to move was given the news of it passed from +lip to lip among the men in tired whispers. Since dawn they had +lived through the impressions of a whole war, and they had won. +With victory they had not thought of the future, only of their +hunger. After the nightmare of the charge, after hearing death +whispering for hours intimately in their ears, they were too weary +and too far thrown out of the adjustments of any natural habits of +thought and feeling to realize the horror of eating their dinners +in the company of the dead. Now they were to go through another +hell, but many of them in their exhaustion were chiefly concerned +as to whether or not they should get any sleep that night.</p> +<p>Peterkin could hear his heart thumping and feel chills running +down his spine. How should he ever live up to a bronze +cross—the precious cross given for valor alone, which marked +him as heroic for life—when all he wanted to do was to crawl +away to some quiet, safe place and munch more biscuits? He had once +been a buttons who looked down on scullery boys, but how gladly +would he be a scullery boy forever if he could escape to the rear +where he would hear no more bullets!</p> +<p>His conscience smote him; he wanted a confessor. He had an +impulse to tell the whole truth to Hugo Mallin, for Hugo was the +one man in the company who would sympathetically understand the +situation. Yet he did not find the words, because he was rather +pleased with the réclame of being a hero, which was an +entirely new experience in a family that had been for generations +in service.</p> +<p>Hugo Mallin had fired when the others fired; advanced when the +others advanced. He had done his mechanical part in a way that had +not excited Fracasse's further acute displeasure, and he had no +sense of physical fatigue, only of mental depression, of the +elemental things that he had seen and felt this day in a whirling +pressure on his brain.</p> +<p>It seemed to him that all his comrades had changed. They could +never be the same as before they had set out to kill another lot of +men on the crest of the knoll. He could not keep a comparison out +of mind: One of the dead Browns, lying in almost the same position, +looked enough like the manufacturer's son to be his brother. He +pictured Eugene Aronson's parents receiving the news of his +death—the mother weeping, the father staring stonily. And he +saw many mothers weeping and many fathers staring stonily.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXV' id="XXV"></a> +<h2>XXV</h2> +<h3>THE TERRIBLE NIGHT</h3> +<br> +<p>The satire of war makes the valet's son a hero; the chance of +war kills the manufacturer's son and lets the day-laborer's son +live; the sport of war gives the latent forces of a Stransky full +play; the mercy of war grants Grandfather Fragini a happy death; +the glory of war brings Dellarme quick promotion; the glamour and +the spectacular folly of war turn the bolts of the lightnings which +man has mastered against man. Perhaps the savage who learned that +he could start a flame by rubbing two dry sticks together may have +set fire to the virgin forest and wild grass in order to destroy an +enemy—and naturally with disastrous results to himself if he +mistook the direction of the wind.</p> +<p>Marta Galland's thoughts at dusk when she returned up the steps +to the house were much the same as Hugo Mallin's after Fracasse had +taken the knoll. While he had felt the hot whirlwind of war in his +face, she had witnessed the wreckage that it left. She also was +seeing fathers staring and mothers weeping. Her experience with the +wounded drawing deep on the wells of sympathy, heightened her +loathing of war and of all who planned and ordered it and led its +legions. A Stransky righting would have been repulsive to her, but +a Stransky trying to save a life was noble.</p> +<p>Except for the few minutes when she had gone out on the veranda +and had seen Stransky bringing in the lifeless body of Grandfather +Fragini, she had been engaged since dark in completing the work of +moving valuable articles from the front to the rear rooms of the +house, which had been begun early in the day by Minna and the +coachman.</p> +<p>Shortly after Stransky had finished his meal Minna came to say +that Major Dellarme wished to speak to Miss Galland. Dellarme a +major! This was his reward for his part in filling the ambulances +with groans! In the days when he was at the La Tir garrison he had +been a frequent caller. Now, in the perversity of her reasoning, +out of the chaos of the tangent odds of her impressions since she +had gone to hold the session of her school that morning, she +thought of him as peculiarly one who gave to the profession of arms +the attraction that had made it the vocation of the aristocrat. +Waiting for her in the dismantled dining-room, despite all that he +had passed through, his greeting had the diffident, boyish manner +of her recollection; and despite a night on the ground his brown +uniform was without creases, giving him a well-groomed, even +debonair, appearance.</p> +<p>"I scarcely thought that we should ever meet under these +conditions," he said slightly constrained, a touch of color in his +cheeks.</p> +<p>She had no excuse for her reply unless, in truth, she were in +training for the town scold. But he typified an idea. He gave to +war the aspect of refinement.</p> +<p>"If you did not expect it, why did you enter the army?" she +asked.</p> +<p>He saw that she was not quite herself. The strain of the day had +unnerved her. Yet he answered her bootless question with simple +directness.</p> +<p>"I liked the idea of being a soldier. I was reared in the +atmosphere of the army, and I hoped that I might do my duty if war +came."</p> +<p>Perhaps this was point one for him. Marta shrugged her +shoulders.</p> +<p>"I might have guessed beforehand what you would say," she +replied. "You sent for me?"</p> +<p>"Hardly that, please. I asked if I might see you. The captain of +engineers tells me that you insist on staying and I came to beg you +to keep in the back of the house. You will be safe there. Any shell +that may enter will explode in the front rooms and the fragments +will not go through the second wall."</p> +<p>"Yes, we understand that. We have already removed our +heirlooms," she replied indifferently.</p> +<p>The fatalism of her attitude and his alarm lest she had gone a +little out of her head aroused all the innate horror of a man at +the thought of a woman under fire. He broke out desperately:</p> +<p>"Miss Galland, this is no place for you! You do not +realize—"</p> +<p>He had made the same mistake as the captain of +engineers—touched a spot of irritation as raw as it had been +in the morning.</p> +<p>"Why shouldn't I stay here? Why shouldn't every wife and mother +be here in the fire zone? You soldiers die—it is very easy to +die—and leave us to suffer. You destroy and leave us to build +up. You go on a debauch of killing and come home to the women to +nurse you. Why make us suffer the consequences without sharing the +glory of the deed?"</p> +<p>Such reasoning was not in the province of his training. He +feared that she was about to become hysterical.</p> +<p>"Really, Miss Galland, I—women and +children—I—" he was stammering.</p> +<p>"Better kill the children young than go to the expense of +bringing them up before they are killed!" she went on, not +hysterically, unless frozen intensity is hysteria. "Children +clinging to your knees might stop you, but I suppose you would have +a police force to tear the children away rather than miss the +masculine privilege of murder."</p> +<p>"Miss Galland, you are overwrought. I—"</p> +<p>She interrupted him with half-breathed laughter.</p> +<p>"Don't I look it—hysterical?" she exclaimed. "How awkward +for you if I should fall on the floor and kick and scream!"</p> +<p>With a peculiar uplifting of the brows which spoke a brittle +humor, she looked at the floor as if selecting a place for the +performance.</p> +<p>"That is not your way," he managed to say. He was quite adrift +in confusion at the recollection of quotations he had heard about +woman's subtleties and inconsistencies and her charm. Resorting to +the last weapon in his armory—which the captain of engineers +had already used—his attitude changed to a soldierly +sternness. "Miss Galland, I feel that it is my duty, as long as you +are going to stay, to make sure that—"</p> +<p>She killed the sentence on his lips with a gleam of mockery from +her eyes. He understood that she had again anticipated what he was +going to say.</p> +<p>"There are times when you must be firm with a woman, aren't +there? And the time has come for you to be firm!" The color in his +cheeks deepened. He knew what to do with his men on the knoll, but +not what to do in the present situation. "This is our home; our +home is our country. Here we remain; but, naturally, we don't +propose to stick our heads out of the windows in a shower of +shrapnel bullets," she continued. "Even your soldiers are not so +zealous for death but they fight behind sand-bags. They are not +like Mohammedan fatalists who so love to die for their illusions +that they bare their breasts to bullets. We have already arranged +sleeping-quarters in the rear. Good night!"</p> +<p>She held out her hand with a smile of conventional pleasantry. +Had it not been for the sound of firing, which still continued, and +for the walls denuded of pictures, they might have been parting at +the head of the stairs at a house-party. She stopped half-way up in +an impulse to call back happily:</p> +<p>"You see, masculine firmness did calm feminine hysteria!"</p> +<p>"Oh, Miss Galland!" he exclaimed. "Miss Galland, you are beyond +me!"</p> +<p>"What a pose! How foolish to break out in that way!" she thought +angrily, as she hastened up the rest of the flight and along the +corridor. "To him of all men! A pattern-plate of an officer, who +never has had anything but a military thought! But everything is +pose! Everything is abnormal! And sleep? Sleep is a pose, too. I +feel as if my eyes would remain open forever. Oh, I wish they would +begin the fighting and tear the house to pieces if they are going +to! I wish—"</p> +<p>She was at the door of her mother's room, which was like an +antique shop. Old plates lay on top of old tables, with vases on +the floor under the tables. Surrounded by her treasures, Mrs. +Galland awaited the attack; not as a soldier awaits it, but as that +venerable Roman senator of the story faced the barbarous +Gauls—neither disputing the power of their spears nor +yielding the self-respect of his own mind and soul. She had lain +down in her wrapper for the night, and the light from a single +candle—she still favored candles—revealed her features +calm and philosophical among the pillows. Yet the magic of war, +reaching deep into hidden emotions, had her also under its spell. +Her voice was at once more tender and vital.</p> +<p>"Marta, I see that you are all on wires!"</p> +<p>"Yes; jangling wires, every one, jangling every second out of +tune," Marta acquiesced.</p> +<p>"Marta, my father"—her father had been a premier of the +Browns—"always said that you may enjoy the luxury of fussing +over little things, for they don't count much one way or another; +but about big things you must never fuss or you will not be worthy +of big things. Marta, you cannot stop a railroad train with your +hands. This is not the first war on earth and we are not the first +women who ever thought that war was wrong. Each of us has his work +to do and you will have yours. It does no good to tire yourself out +and fly to pieces, even if you do know so much and have been around +the world."</p> +<p>She smiled as a woman of sixty, who has a secret heart-break +that she had never given her husband a son, may smile at a daughter +who is both son and daughter to her, and her plump hand, all curves +like her plump face and her plump body, spread open in appeal.</p> +<p>Marta, who, in the breeding of her generation, felt sentiment as +more or less of a lure from logic, dropped beside the bed in a +sudden burst of sentiment and gathered the plump hand in hers and +kissed it.</p> +<p>"Mother, you are wonderful!" she said. "Mother, you are +great!"</p> +<p>"Tush, Marta!" said Mrs, Galland. "You shouldn't say that. Your +grandfather was great—a very great man. He never quite got +his deserts; no good man does in politics."</p> +<p>"You are better than great," said Marta. "You soothe; you help; +you have—what shall I call it?—the wisdom of mothers! +Minna has it, too." She ran a tattoo of kisses along the velvety +skin of Mrs. Galland's arm.</p> +<p>Mrs. Galland was blushing, and out of the depths of her eyes +bubbled a little fountain of stars.</p> +<p>"Marta, you have kissed me often before," she said, "but you +have been a little patronizing from your hilltop of youth and +knowledge. Sometimes you have looked to me lonely up there on your +hilltop and I know that I have been lonely sometimes in my valley +of the years where knees are not good at climbing hills."</p> +<p>"It was not my intention," Marta said rather miserably.</p> +<p>"No, it is a businesslike age," answered Mrs. Galland.</p> +<p>"I—you mean I was too detached? I was not human?"</p> +<p>"You are now. You make me very happy," her mother replied. "But +you must sleep," she insisted.</p> +<p>After a time, her ear becoming as accustomed to the firing as a +city dweller's to the distant roar of city traffic Mrs. Galland +slept. But Marta could not follow her advice. If, transiently at +least, she had found something of the peace of the confessional, +the vigor of youth was in her arteries; and youth cannot help +remaining awake under some conditions. She tiptoed across the hall +into her own room and seated herself by the window, which had often +spread the broadening vista of landscape with its lessening detail +before her eyes.</p> +<p>On other nights she had looked out into opaqueness with the +drum-beat of rain on the roof; into the faint starlight when there +was only the vagueness of heights and levels; into the harvest +moonlight with its spectral unreality. Now the symbol of what the +ear had heard the eye saw: war, working in tones of the landscape +by day with smokeless powder; war, revealed by its tongues of flame +at night. Ugly bursts of fire from the higher hills spread to the +heavens like an aurora borealis and broke their messengers in +sheets of flame over the lower hills—the batteries of the +Browns sprinkling death about the heads of the gunners of the Grays +emplacing their batteries. Staccato flashes from a single point +counted so many bullets from an automatic, which, directed by the +beams of the search-lights, found their targets in sections of +advancing infantry. Hill crests, set off with flashes running back +and forth, demarked infantry lines of the Browns assisting the +automatics.</p> +<p>There were lulls between the crashes of the small arms and the +heavy, throaty speech of the guns; lulls that seemed to say that +both sides had paused for a breathing spell; lulls that allowed the +battle in the distance to be heard in its pervasive undertone. In +one Of them, when even the undertone had ceased for a few seconds, +Marta caught faintly the groans of a wounded man—one of the +crew of a Gray dirigible burned by an explosion and brought in his +agony softly to earth by a billowing piece of envelope which acted +as a parachute.</p> +<p>Fighting proceeded in La Tir in stages of ferocity and blank +silence. The upper part of the town, which the Browns still held, +was in darkness; the lower part, where the Grays were, was +illuminated.</p> +<p>"Another one of Lanny's plans!" thought Marta. "He would have +them work in the light, while we fire out of obscurity!"</p> +<p>Soon all the town was in darkness, for the Grays had cut the +wire in the main conduit shortly after she had heard the groans of +the wounded man. There the automatics broke out in a mad storm, +voicing their feelings at getting a company in close order in a +street for the space of a minute, before those who escaped could +plaster themselves against doorways or find cover in alleys. Then +silence from the automatics and a cheer from the Browns that rasped +out its triumph like the rubbing together of steel files.</p> +<p>From the line of defence, that included the first terrace of the +Galland grounds as the angle of a redoubt, not a shot, not a sound; +silence on the part of officers and men as profound as Mrs. +Galland's slumber, while one of the Browns' search-lights, like +some great witch's slow-turning eye in a narrow radius, covered the +lower terraces and the road.</p> +<p>Marta gave intermittent glances at the garden; the glances of a +guardian. She happened to be looking in that direction when figures +sprang across the road, crouching, running with the short, quick +steps of no body movement accompanying that of the legs. The +search-light caught them in merciless silhouette and the automatic +and the rifles from behind the sand-bags on the first terrace let +go. Some of the figures dropped and lay in the road and she knew +that she had seen men hit for the first time. Others, she thought, +got safely to the cover of the gutter on the garden side. Of those +on the road, some were still and some she saw were moving slowly +back on their stomachs to safety. Now the search-light laid its +beam steadily on the road. Again silence. From the upper terrace +came a great voice, like that of the guns, from a human throat:</p> +<p>"Why didn't we level those terraces? They'll creep up from one +to the other!" It was Stransky.</p> +<p>In answer was another voice—Dellarme's.</p> +<p>"Perhaps there wasn't time to do everything. And if this +position is taken before we are ready to go, it will not be from +that side, but from the side of the town."</p> +<p>"We're making them pay for seeing our garden, but, anyhow, we +won't let them pick any flowers," Stransky remarked pungently.</p> +<p>"If they get as far as the first terrace—well, in case of +a crisis, we have hand-grenades," Dellarme added in explanation. +"But, God knows, I hope we shall not have to use them."</p> +<p>After an interval, more figures made a rush across the road. +They, too, in Stransky's words, paid a price for seeing the garden. +But the flashes from the rifles and the automatic provided a target +for a Gray battery. The blue spark that flies from an overhead +trolley or a third rail, multiplied a hundredfold, broke in Marta's +face. It was dazzling, blinding as a bolt of lightning a few feet +distant, with the thunder crash at the same second, followed by the +thrashing hum of bullets and fragments against the side of the +house.</p> +<p>"I knew that this must come!" something within her said. If she +had not been prepared for it by the events of the last twelve hours +she would have jumped to her feet with an exclamation of natural +shock and horror. As it was, she felt a convulsive, nervous thrill +without rising from her seat. A pause. The next shell burst in line +with the first, out by the linden-trees; a third above the +veranda.</p> +<p>"We've got that range, all right!" thought the Gray battery +commander, who had judged the distance by the staff map. This was +all he wanted to know for the present. He would let loose at the +proper time to support the infantry attack, when there were enough +driblets across the road to make a charge. The driblets kept on +coming, and, one by one, the number of dead on the road was +augmented.</p> +<p>Marta was diverted from this process of killing by piecemeal by +a more theatric spectacle. A brigade commander of the Grays had +ticked an order over the wires and it had gone from battery to +battery. Not only many field-guns, which are the terriers of the +artillery, but some guns of siege calibre, the mastiffs, in a +sudden outburst started a havoc of tumbling walls and cornices in +the upper part of the town.</p> +<p>Then an explosion greater than any from the shells shot a +hemisphere of light heavenward, revealing a shadowy body flying +overhead, and an instant later the heavens were illuminated by a +vast circle of flame as the dirigible that had dropped the dynamite +received its death-blow. But already the Brown infantry was +withdrawing from the town, destroying buildings that would give +cover for the attack in the morning as they went. Two or three +hours after midnight fell a silence which was to last until dawn. +The combatants rested on their arms, Browns saying to Grays, "We +shall be ready for the morrow!" and Grays replying: "So shall +we!"</p> +<p>Marta, at her window, her eyes following the movements of the +display, now here, now there, found herself thinking of many +things, as in the intermissions between the acts of a drama. She +wondered if the groaning, wounded man were crying for water or if +he were wishing that some one at home were near him. She thought of +her talk with Lanstron over the telephone and how mad and feminine +and feeble it must have sounded to a mind working in the inexorable +processes of the clash of millions of men. She saw his left hand +twitching in his pocket, his right hand gripping it to hold it +still, on that afternoon when, for the first time, she had +understood his injury in the aeroplane accident as the talisman of +his feelings—his controlled feelings! Always his controlled +feelings!</p> +<p>She saw Feller leaning against the moist wall of the dank +tunnel, suffering as it had never seemed to her that man could +suffer, his agony an irresistible plea. She saw Westerling, so +conscious of his strength, directing his chessmen in a death +struggle against Partow. And he was coming to this house as his +headquarters when the final test of the strength of the Titans was +made.</p> +<p>She hoped that her mother was still sleeping; and she had +seconds when she was startled by her own calmness. Again, the faces +of the children in her school were as clear as in life. She +breathed her gratitude that the procession in which they moved to +the rear was hours ago out of the theatre of danger. In the +simplicity of big things, her duty was to teach them, a future +generation, no less than Feller's duty was to the pursuing shadow +of his conscience. She should see war, alive, naked, bloody, and +she would tell her children what she had seen as a warning.</p> +<p>Silence, except an occasional rifle-shot—silence and the +darkness before dawn which would, she knew, concentrate the +lightnings around the house. She glanced into her mother's room and +marvelled as at a miracle to find her sleeping. Then she stole +down-stairs and opened the outer door of the dining-room. A step or +two brought her to the edge of the veranda. There she paused and +leaned against one of the stone pillars. Dellarme himself was in a +half-reclining position, his back to a tree. He seemed to be +nodding. Except for a few on watch over the sand-bags, his men were +stretched on the earth, moving restlessly at intervals, either in +an effort to sleep or waking suddenly after a spell of harassed +unconsciousness.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXVI' id="XXVI"></a> +<h2>XXVI</h2> +<h3>FELLER IS TEMPTED</h3> +<br> +<p>With the first sign of dawn there was a movement of shadowy +forms taking position in answer to low-spoken commands. The +search-light yielded its vigil to the wide-spread beam out of the +east, and the detail of the setting where Marta was to watch the +play of one of man's passions, which he dares not permit the tender +flesh of woman to share, grew distinct. Bayonets were fixed on the +rifles that lay along the parapet of sand-bags in front of the row +of brown shoulders. Back of them in the yard was a section of +infantry in reserve, also with bayonets fixed, ready to fill the +place of any who fell out of line, a doctor and stretchers to care +for the wounded, and a detachment of engineers to mend any breaches +made in the breastwork by shell fire.</p> +<p>The gunner of the automatic sighted his barrel, slightly +adjusted its elevation, and swung it back and forth to make sure +that it worked smoothly, while his assistant saw that the fresh +belts of cartridges which were to feed it were within easy reach. +Dellarme, walking behind his men, cautioning them not to expose +their heads and at the same time to fire low, had his cheery smile +in excellent working order.</p> +<p>"We expect great things of you!" this smile said as he bent over +the gunner with a pat on the shoulder.</p> +<p>"I understand!" said the upward glance in reply.</p> +<p>Marta could not deny that there was something fine about +Dellarme's smile no less than in his bearing and his delicately, +chiselled features. It had the assurance and self-possession of a +surgeon about to perform a critical operation, the difference being +that, unlike the surgeon, he shared in the risk, which was for the +purpose of taking vigorous young lives rather than saving lives +enfeebled by disease. Was it this that gave to war its +halo—this offering of the most valuable thing man possesses +to sudden destruction that made war heroic?</p> +<p>But where was the romance of the last war forty years ago? Where +the glad songs going into battle? The glitter of buttons and the +pomp of showy uniforms? The general's staff watching the course of +the action by the billows of black smoke? Gone where the railroad +sent the stage-coach, electricity sent the candle and horse-drawn +street-cars, serum sent diphtheria, the knife sent the appendix, +and rifled cannon and explosive shells sent the wooden walls of old +ships of the line.</p> +<p>It occurred to none of the actors, and to Marta alone, in the +tight, foreboding silence, to look aloft. There was a serene blue +sky. The birds were tuning up for their morning songs when she +heard the dull echo of distant guns, soon to be submerged in other +thunders at nearer points along the frontier. With every faculty an +alert wire strung in suspense, she was instantly aware of the +appearance of a figure whose lack of uniform made it conspicuous on +that stage.</p> +<p>In straw hat and blue blouse, shuffling with his old man's walk, +Feller came along the path from the gate. He was in retreat from +the enticing picture of the regiment of field-guns in front of the +castle that was ready for action. As the infantry had never +interested him, he would be safe from temptation in the yard. He +stopped back of the engineers, his glance roving down the line of +brown shoulders until it rested on the automatic. This also was a +gun, though it fired only bullets. His fingers began beating a +tattoo on his trousers' seam; a hungry brilliance shone in his +eyes. He took four or five steps forward as if drawn by an +overpowering fascination.</p> +<p>"This is no place for you!" said one of the engineers.</p> +<p>"No, and don't waste any time, either, old man!" said another. +"Back to your bulbs!"</p> +<p>Feller did not even hear them. For the moment he was actually +deaf.</p> +<p>"Fire!" said Dellarme's whistle. "Thur-r-r!" went the automatic +in soulless, mechanical repetition, its tape spinning through the +cylinder, while the rifles spoke with the human irregularity of +steel-tipped fingers pounding at random on a drumhead. All along +the line facing La Tir the volume of fire spread until it was like +the concert of a mighty loom.</p> +<p>Marta could see nothing of the enemy, but she guessed that he +was making a rush from the second to the third terrace and from the +outskirts of the town. The engineer's repeated warning unheard +above the din, he touched Feller on the leg. Feller looked around +with a frown of querulous abstraction just as the breaking of a +storm of shell fire obscured Marta's vision with dust and smoke. +She felt her head jerk as if it would go free of her neck with each +explosion, until she reinforced her nerves with the memory of an +old soldier's warning about the folly of dodging missiles that were +already past before you heard them. She knew that she was perfectly +safe behind the pillar.</p> +<p>The Gray batteries having tried out their range by the flashes +of the automatic the previous evening were making the most of the +occasion. "Uk-ung-n-ng!" the breaking jackets whipped out their +grists. A crash on the roof brought a small avalanche of slate +tumbling down. A concussion in the dining-room was followed by the +tinkling of falling window-glass. The engineers had work +immediately when two of the infantrymen and their rifles and the +sand-bags on which they leaned were hurled together in a heap of +sand and torn flesh. Other bags were placed in the breach; other +men sprang forward and began firing. The reserves, the +hospital-corps men and the engineers hugged the breastwork for +cover. The leaves clipped from the trees by bullets were blown +aside with the hurricane breaths of shrapnel bursts; bullets +whistled so near Marta that she heard their shrillness above every +other sound. She was amazed that the house still remained +standing—that any one was alive. But she had a glimpse of +Dellarme maintaining his set smile and another of Feller, who had +crept up behind the automatic, making impatient "come-on! come-on! +what-is-the-matter-with-you?" gestures in the direction of the +batteries in front of the castle.</p> +<p>"Thur-eesh—thur-eesh!" As the welcome note swept overhead +he waved his hands up and down in mad rapture and then peeped over +the breastwork to ascertain if the practice were good. The Brown +batteries had been a little slow in coming into action, but they +had the range from the Gray batteries' flashes the previous night +and, undisturbed in the security of their own flashes screened by +the trees, soon broke the precision of the opposing fire.</p> +<p>Now shells coming infrequently fell short or went wide. The air +cleared. Marta could again see distinctly, and she marvelled that +the brown figures were proceeding with their knitting as if nothing +had happened. She could not resist a thrill of grim admiration for +their steadiness or an appreciative thrill as she saw Feller +eagerly peering over the automatic gunner's shoulder to watch the +effect of his fire. Suddenly, both the rifles and the automatic, +which had been firing deliberately, began to fire with desperate +rapidity. It was as if a boxer, sparring slowly, let out all his +power in a rain of blows. She could see nothing of the Grays, but +she understood that they were making a rush.</p> +<p>Then a chance shell, striking at the one point which the man who +fired it six thousand yards away would have chosen as his +bull's-eye, obscured Feller and the automatic and its gunners in +the havoc of explosion. Feller must have been killed. The dust +settled; she saw Dellarme making frantic gestures as he looked at +his men. They were keeping up their fusillade with unflinching +rapidity. Through the breach left in the breastwork she had +glimpses, as the dust was finally dissipated, of gray figures, +bayonets fixed, pressing together as they came on fiercely toward +the opening. The Browns let go the full blast of their magazines. +Had that chance shell turned the scales? Would the Grays get into +the breastwork?</p> +<p>All Marta's faculties and emotions were frozen in her stare of +suspense at the breach. Her heart seemed straining with the effort +of the living, who heard nothing, thought nothing, in the crux of +their effort. War's own mesmerism had made her forget Feller and +everything except the gamble, the turn of the card, while the gray +figures kept stumbling on over their fallen. Then her heart leaped, +a cry in a gust of short breaths broke from her lips as the Browns +let go a rasping, explosive, demoniacal cheer. The first attack had +been checked!</p> +<p>After triumph, terror, faintness, and a closing of her eyes, she +opened them to see Feller, with his old straw hat—brim torn +and crownless now—still on his head, rise from the +débris and shake himself like a dog coming ashore from a +swim. While the engineers hastened to repair the breach he assisted +Stransky, who had also been knocked down by the concussion, to lift +the overturned automatic off the gunner. The doctor, putting a hand +on the gunner's heart, shook his head, and two hospital-corps men +removed the body to make room for the engineers.</p> +<p>Dellarme could now spare attention from the charge of the Gray +infantry to observe the results of the shell fire. With the gunner +dead, he looked for the gunner's assistant, who lay several feet +distant. As Dellarme and the doctor hastened to him he raised +himself to a sitting posture and looked around in dazed inquiry. +The doctor poured a cup of brandy from his flask and held it to the +assistant's lips, whereon he blinked and nodded his head in +personal confirmation of the fact that he was still alive. But when +he tried to raise his right arm the hand would not join in the +movement. His wrist was broken.</p> +<p>For once Dellarme's cheery smile deserted him. There was no one +left to man the automatic, so vital in the defence, and even if +somebody could be found the gun was probably out of commission. As +he started toward it his smile, already summoned back, was shot +with surprise at sight of the gun in place and a stranger in blue +blouse, white hair showing through a crownless straw hat, trying +out the mechanism with knowing fingers. Dellarme stared. Feller, +unconscious of everything but the gun, righted the cartridge band, +swung the barrel back and forth, and then fired a shot.</p> +<p>"You—you seem to know rapid-firers!" Dellarme exclaimed in +blank incomprehension.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir!" Feller raised his finger, whether in salute as a +soldier or as a gardener touching his hat it was hard to say.</p> +<p>"But how—where?" gasped Dellarme.</p> +<p>This time the movement of the finger was undoubtedly in salute, +in perfect, swift, military salute, with head thrown back and +shoulders stiff. Feller the gardener was dead and buried without +ceremony.</p> +<p>"Lanstron's class, school for officers, sir. Stood one in +ballistics, prize medallist control of gun-fire. Yes, sir, I know +something about rapid-firers," Feller replied, and fired a few more +shots. "A little high, a little low—right, my lady, +right!"</p> +<p>Stransky was back in his place next to the automatic and firing +whenever a head appeared. He rolled his eyes in a characteristic +squint of scrutiny toward the new recruit.</p> +<p>"Beats spraying rose-bushes for bugs, eh, old man?" he +asked.</p> +<p>"Yes, a lead solution is best for gray bugs!" Feller remarked +pungently, and their glances meeting, they saw in each other's eyes +the joy of hell.</p> +<p>"A pair of anarchists!" exclaimed Stransky grinning, and tried a +shot for another head.</p> +<p>As if in answer to prayer, a gunner had come out of the earth. +Sufficient to the need was the fact. It was not for Dellarme to ask +questions of a prize-medallist graduate of the school for officers +in a blue blouse and crownless straw hat. His expert survey assured +him that before another rush the enemy had certain preparations to +make. He might give his fighting smile a recess and permit himself +a few minutes' relaxation. Looking around to ascertain what damage +had been done to the house and grounds, he became aware of Marta's +presence for the first time.</p> +<p>"Miss Galland, you—you weren't there during the fighting?" +he cried as he ran toward her.</p> +<p>"Yes," she said rather faintly.</p> +<p>"If I had known that I should have been scared to death!"</p> +<p>"But I was safe behind the pillar," she explained. "Your company +did its work splendidly," she added, looking at him with eyes dull +and wondering.</p> +<p>"Do you think so? They <i>are</i> splendid, my men! They make +one try to be worthy of them. Thank you!" he said, blushing with +pleasure. "But, Miss Galland, please—there's no firing now, +but any minute——."</p> +<p>"Yes?"</p> +<p>He did not attempt masculine firmness this time, only boyish +pleading and a sort of younger-brother camaraderie.</p> +<p>"Miss Galland, you're such a good soldier—please—and +I'm sure you have not had your breakfast, and all good soldiers +never neglect their rations, not at the beginning of a war! Miss +Galland, please—." Yes, as he meant it, please be a good +fellow.</p> +<p>She could not resist smiling at the charming manner of his plea. +She felt weak and strange—a little dizzy. Besides, her +mother's voice now came from the doorway and then her mother's hand +was pressing her arm.</p> +<p>"Marta, if you remain out here, I shall!" announced Mrs. +Galland.</p> +<p>"I was just coming in," said Marta.</p> +<p>Dellarme, his cap held before him in the jaunty fashion of +officers, bowed, his face beaming his happiness at her +decision.</p> +<p>As they entered the dining-room Marta saw that the shell which +had entered the window had burst just over the heavy mahogany table +and a fragment of the jacket had cut a long scar in the rich fibre. +She paused, her breath coming and going hotly. She felt the +smarting pain of a file drawn over the skin. The table was very +old; for generations it had been a family treasure. As a child she +had loved its polished surface and revered its massive +solidity.</p> +<p>"Oh! Oh! Somebody ought to be made to pay for such wickedness!" +she exclaimed wrathfully.</p> +<p>"It will plane down and it is nothing we could help, Marta," +said Mrs. Galland. "Fortunately, all the portraits were out of the +room."</p> +<p>"Mother, you—you are just a little too philosophical!" +complained Marta.</p> +<p>"Come!" Mrs. Galland slipped her hand into Marta's. "Two women +can't fight both armies. Come! I prescribe hot coffee It is +waiting; and, do you know, I find a meal in the kitchen very +cosey."</p> +<p>Being human and not a heroine fed on lotos blossoms, and being +exhausted and also hungry, when she was seated at table, with Minna +adroitly urging her, Marta ate with the relish of little Peterkin +in the shell crater munching biscuits from his haversack.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXVII' id="XXVII"></a> +<h2>XXVII</h2> +<h3>HAND TO HAND</h3> +<br> +<p>With Mrs. Galland on guard, insistent that wherever her daughter +went she should go, Marta might not so easily expose herself again. +For the time being she seemed hardly of a mind to. She sat staring +at the kitchen clock on the wall in front of her, the only sign of +any break in the funereal march of her thoughts being an occasional +deep-drawn breath, or a shudder, or a clenching of the hands, or a +bitter smile of irony.</p> +<p>An hour or more of intermittent firing passed in the suspense of +listening to a trickle of water undermining a dam. Then, with the +roar of waters carrying away the dam, a cataract of shell fire +broke and continued in far heavier volume than that of the first +attack.</p> +<p>"The last war was nothing like this!" murmured Mrs. Galland.</p> +<p>At every concussion against the walls of the house, at every +crash within the house, Marta pressed her nails tighter into her +palms. Abruptly as the inferno of the guns had commenced, it +ceased, and the steady, passionate, desperate blasts of the rifles, +now uninterrupted, were more deadly and venomous if less shocking +to the ear.</p> +<p>The movement of the minute-hand on the clock-face became uncanny +and merciless to her eye in its deliberate regularity. Dellarme had +been told to hold on until noon, she knew. Was he still smiling? +Was Feller still happy in playing a stream of lead from the +automatic? Was the second charge of the Grays, which must have come +to close quarters when the guns went silent, going to succeed?</p> +<p>The rifle-fire died down suddenly and she heard a cheer like +that of the morning, only wilder and fiercer and even less human. +Could it be from the Browns celebrating a repulse? Or from the +Grays after taking the position? What did it matter? If the Grays +had won there was an end to the agony so far as her mother and +herself were concerned—an end to murder on the lawn and +devastation of their property. But, at length, the rifle-fire +beginning again in a slow, irregular pulse told her that the Browns +had held.</p> +<p>Now another long intermission. The demon was wiping his brow and +recovering his breath, Marta thought; he was repairing damaged +joints in his armor and removing the flesh of victims from his +claws. But he would not rest long, for the war was +young—exactly one day old—and many battalions of +victims remained unslain.</p> +<p>How slowly the big hand of the clock kept hitching on from +minute-mark to minute-mark! Yet no more slowly than the hands of +clocks in distant provinces of the Browns or of the Grays, where +this day was as quiet and peaceful as any other day.</p> +<p>Mrs. Galland had settled down conscientiously to play solitaire, +a favorite pastime of hers; but she failed to win, as she +complained to Marta, because of her stupid way this morning of +missing the combination cards.</p> +<p>"I really believe I need new glasses," she declared.</p> +<p>"Let me help you," said Marta. Welcome idea! Why hadn't she +thought of it before? It was something to do.</p> +<p>"But, Marta—there you are, covering up the jack of spades, +the very card I need—though it will not help now. I've lost +again!" exclaimed Mrs. Galland at length. "Why, Marta, you miss +worse than I do!"</p> +<p>"Do I? Do I?" asked Marta in blank surprise and irritation. +"Please let me try once alone. I'll not miss this time. Correct me +if I do."</p> +<p>She played with the deliberation and accuracy of Feller should +he have to make a little ammunition for his automatic go a long +way, and Mrs. Galland did not observe a single error.</p> +<p>"Hurrah! I won!" Marta cried triumphantly, with some of her old +vivacity.</p> +<p>Then she drew away from the table wearily. The strain of +concentrating her mind had been worse than that of the battle; or, +rather, it had merely added another strain to a tortured brain +after a sleepless night. For her ears had been constantly alert. +The demon had moved one of his claws to fresh ground; the inferno +on the La Tir side of the frontier had shifted to a valley beyond +the Galland estate, where the firing appeared to come from the +Brown side. Breaking from the leash of silence, guns, automatics, +rifles—each one straining for a speed record—roared and +crashed and rattled in greedy chorus, while the clock ticked +perhaps a hundred times. Thus famished savages might boll their +food in a time limit. Thereafter, for a while, the battle was +desultory.</p> +<p>Then came another outburst from Dellarme's men, which she +interpreted as the response to another rush by the Grays; and this +yelping of the demon was not that of the hound after the hare, as +in the valley, but of the hare with his back to the wall. When it +was over there was no cheer. What did this mean? Oh, that slow +minute-hand, resting so calmly between hitches of destiny, now +pointing to a quarter after eleven! For half a century, it seemed +to her, Marta had endured watching its snail pace. Now inaction was +no longer bearable. Without warning to her mother she bolted out of +the kitchen. Mrs. Galland sprang up to follow, but Minna barred the +way.</p> +<p>"One is enough!" she said firmly, and Mrs. Galland dropped back +into her chair.</p> +<p>In the front rooms Marta found havoc beyond her imagination. A +portion of the ceiling had been blown out by a shell entering at an +up-stairs window; the hardwood floors were littered with plaster +and window-glass and ripped into splinters in places.</p> +<p>"How can we ever afford repairs!" she thought.</p> +<p>But she hurried on, impelled by she knew not what, through the +dining-room, and, coming to the veranda, stopped short, with +dilating eyes and a cry of grievous shock. Two of his men were +carrying Dellarme back from the breastwork where they had caught +him in their arms as he fell. They laid him gently on the sward +with a knapsack under his head. His face grew whiter with the flow +of blood from the red hole in the right breast of his blouse. Then +he opened his lips and whispered to the doctor: "How is it?" +Something in his eyes, in the tone of that faint question, required +the grace of a soldier's truth in answer.</p> +<p>"Bad!" said the doctor.</p> +<p>"Then, good-by!" And his head fell to one side, his lips set in +his cheery smile.</p> +<p>Had ever any martyr shown a finer spirit dying for any cause? +Marta wondered. She felt the sublimity of a great moment, an +inexorable sadness. She knew that she should never forget that +cheery smile or that white face. What was danger to anybody? What +was death if you had seen how he had died?</p> +<p>His company was a company with his smile out of its heart and in +its place blank despair. Many of the men had stopped firing. Some +had even run back to look at him and stood, caps off, backs to the +enemy, miserable in their grief. Others leaned against the parapet, +rifles out of hand, staring and dazed.</p> +<p>"They have killed our captain!"</p> +<p>"They've killed our captain!"—still a captain to them. A +general's stars could not have raised him a cubit in their +estimation.</p> +<p>"And once we called him 'Baby Dellarme,' he was so young and +bashful! Him a baby? He was a king!"</p> +<p>"Men, get to your places!" cried the surviving lieutenant rather +hopelessly, with no Dellarme to show him what to do; and Marta saw +that few paid any attention to him.</p> +<p>In that minute of demoralization the Grays had their chance, but +only for a minute. A voice that seemed to speak some uncontrollable +thought of her own broke in, and it rang with the authority and +leadership of a mature officer's command, even though coming from a +gardener in blue blouse and crownless straw hat.</p> +<p>"Your rifles, your rifles, quick!" called Feller. "We're only +beginning to fight!"</p> +<p>And then another voice in a bull roar, Stransky's:</p> +<p>"Avenge his death! They've got to kill the last man of us for +killing him! Revenge! revenge!"</p> +<p>That cry brought back to the company all the fighting spirit of +the cheery smile and with it another spirit—for Dellarme's +sake!—which he had never taught them.</p> +<p>"Make them pay!"</p> +<p>"He was told to stay till noon!"</p> +<p>"They'll find us here at noon, alive or dead!"</p> +<p>Stransky picked up one of several cylindrical objects that were +lying at his feet.</p> +<p>"He wouldn't use this—he was too soft-hearted—but I +will!" he cried, and flung a hand-grenade, and then a second, over +the breastwork. The explosions were followed by agonized groans +from the Grays hugging the lower side of the terrace. For this they +had crawled across the road in the night—to find themselves +unable to move either way and directly under the flashes of the +Browns' rifles.</p> +<p>Feller's and Stransky's shouts rose together in a peculiar unity +of direction and full of the fellowship they had found in their +first exchange of glances.</p> +<p>"You engineers, make ready!"</p> +<p>"Hand-grenades to the men under the tree! That's where they're +going to try for it—no wall to climb over there!"</p> +<p>"You engineers, take your rifles—and bayonet into anything +that wears gray!"</p> +<p>"Get back, you men by the tree, to avoid their hand-grenades! +Form up behind them, everybody!"</p> +<p>"No matter if they do get in at first! Back, you men, from under +the tree!"</p> +<p>There was not a single rifle-shot. In a silence like that before +the word to fire in a duel, all orders were heard and the more +readily obeyed because Dellarme's foresight had impressed their +sense upon the men in his quiet way.</p> +<p>The sand-bags by the tree were blown up by the Grays. Then, +before the dust had hardly settled, came a half score of +hand-grenades thrown by the first men of a Gray wedge, scrambling +as they were pushed through the breach by the pressure of the mass +behind. In that final struggle of one set of men to gain and +another to hold a position, guns or automatics or long-range +bullets played no part. It was the grapple of cold steel with cold +steel and muscle with muscle, in a billowing, twisting mob of +wrestlers, with no sound from throats but straining breaths; with +no quarter, no distinction of person, and bloodshot eyes and faces +hot with the effort of brute strength striving, in primitive +desperation, to kill in order not to be killed. The cloud of +rocking, writhing arms and shoulders was neither going forward nor +backward. Its movement was that of a vortex, while the gray stream +kept on pouring through the breach as if it were only the first +flood from some gray lake on the other side of the breastwork.</p> +<p>Marta had come to the edge of the veranda, at once drawn and +repelled, feeling the fearful suspense of the combat, the savage +horror of it, and herself uttering sounds like the straining +breaths of the men. What a place for her to be! But she did not +think of that. She was there. The dreadful alchemy of war had made +her a stranger to herself. She was mad; they were mad; all the +world was mad!</p> +<p>One minute—two, perhaps—not three—and the +thing was over. She saw the Grays being crushed back and realized +that the Browns had won, when a last detail of the lessening tumult +fixed her attention with its gladiatorial simplicity. Here, indeed, +it was a case of man to man with the weapons nature gave them.</p> +<p>Standing higher than the others on the edge of the breach was +that giant who had brought Grandfather Fragini in pickaback, +looking a young god on an escarpment of rock on Olympus. His great +nose showed in silhouette at intervals of wrestling lurches back +and forth as he tugged at the rifle of a thick-set soldier of the +Grays with a liver patch on the cheek that made his face hideous +enough for an incarnation of war's savagery. At last Jacob Pilzer +tumbled backward over the breastwork. Unlucky Pilzer! That bronze +cross was further away than ever for him, while Stransky shook the +trophy of a captured rifle aloft, a torn sleeve revealing the +weaving muscles of his powerful arm.</p> +<p>"I thought so!" cried Feller. "Attacks on frontal positions by +daylight are going out of fashion!"</p> +<p>It was he who mercifully arrested the shower of hand-grenades +that followed the exit of the enemy. Two of the guns of the castle +batteries, having changed their position, were making havoc enough +at pointblank range, with a choice of targets between the Grays +huddled on the other side of the breastwork and those in +retreat.</p> +<p>"We'll have peace for a few hours now," said Stransky, squinting +down his nose. "And we'll have something to eat. I ought to have +got that fellow with the beauty-spot on his physiognomy, but, +confound him, he was an eel!"</p> +<p>By this time the men had recovered their breath. It occurred to +them by common impulse that a cheer was due, and for the first time +they broke into a hurrah with wide-open throats.</p> +<p>"Another—for Dellarme!" called Stransky, who seemed to +think that he and not the callow lieutenant was in command.</p> +<p>This they gave, standing instinctively at attention, with heads +bared, for the leader whose spirit survived in them; a cheer with +triumph in its roar, but a different sort of triumph from the first +cheer.</p> +<p>Listening to it were the wounded among the Grays who had fallen +within the breastwork to be trampled by the Browns as they had +pressed forward. The doctor, but a moment ago a fiend himself with +features of rage, now, in the second nature of his calling, with a +look of tender sympathy, was ministering without distinction of +friend or foe. One of the Grays, his cheek bearing the mark of a +boot heel, raised himself, and, in defiance and the satisfaction of +the thought to his bruises and humiliation, pointing his finger at +Feller, Marta heard him say:</p> +<p>"You there, in your straw hat and blue blouse, they've seen +you—a man fighting and not in uniform! If they catch you it +will be a drumhead and a firing squad at dawn!"</p> +<p>"That's so!" replied Feller gravely. "But they'll have to make a +better job of it than you fellows did if they're going +to——"</p> +<p>He turned away abruptly but did not move far. His shoulders +relaxed into the gardener's stoop, and he pulled his hat down over +his eyes and lowered his head as if to hide his face. He was thus +standing, inert, when a division staff-officer galloped into the +grounds.</p> +<p>"Splendid! Splendid! There's some iron crosses in this for you!" +he was shouting before he brought his horse to a standstill. "The +way you held on gained the day for Lanstron's plan. They tried to +flank in the valley after their second attack on your position +failed We drew them on and had them—a battalion in close +order—under the guns for a couple of minutes. It was ghastly! +Our losses have been heavy enough, but nothing to theirs—and +how they are driving their men in! But where is Major +Dellarme?"</p> +<p>When he saw Dellarme's still body he dismounted and in a tide of +feeling which, for the moment, submerged all thought of the +machine, stood, head bowed and cap off, looking down at Dellarme's +face.</p> +<p>"I was very fond of him! He was at the school when I was +teaching there. But a good death—a soldier's death!" he said. +"I'll write to his mother myself." Then the voice of the machine +spoke. "Who is in command?"</p> +<p>"I am, sir!" said the callow lieutenant, coming up.</p> +<p>Feller's fingers moved in a restless beat on his trousers' seam, +his lips half parted as if he must speak, but the men of the +company spoke for him.</p> +<p>"Bert Stransky!" they roared.</p> +<p>It was not according to military etiquette, but military +etiquette meant nothing to them now. They were above it in veteran +superiority.</p> +<p>"And—" Stransky had started to point to Feller, whose name +he did not know, when a forbidding gleam under the hat brim +arrested him.</p> +<p>"Where's Stransky?" demanded the staff-officer.</p> +<p>"You're looking at him!" replied Stransky with a benign +grin.</p> +<p>Seeing that Stransky was only a private, the officer frowned at +the anomaly when a lieutenant was present, then smiled in a way +that accorded the company parliamentary rights, which he thought +that they had fully earned.</p> +<p>"Yes, and he gets one of those iron crosses!" put in Tom +Fragini.</p> +<p>"What for?" demanded Stransky in surprise. They were making a +lot of fuss about him when he had not done anything except to work +out his individual destiny.</p> +<p>"Yes—the first cross for Bert of the Reds!"</p> +<p>"And we'll let him make a dozen anarchist speeches a day!"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes!" roared the company.</p> +<p>"By all means—but not for this; for trying to save an old +man's life!" put in Marta.</p> +<p>After his survey of that amazing company the officer was the +more amazed to hear a woman's voice in such surroundings.</p> +<p>"The ays have it!" he announced cheerfully. He lifted his cap to +Marta. With tender regard and grave reverence for that company, he +took extreme care with his next remark lest a set of men of such +dynamic spirit might repulse him as an invader. "The lieutenant is +in command for the present, according to regulations," he +proceeded. "You will retire immediately to positions 48 to 49 A-J +by the castle road. You have done your part. To-night you sleep and +to-morrow you rest."</p> +<p>Sleep! Rest! Where had they heard those words before? Oh, yes, +in a distant day before they went to war! Sleep and rest! Better +far than an iron cross for every man in the company! They could go +now with something warmer in their hearts than consciousness of +duty well done; but this time they need not go until their dead as +well as their wounded were removed.</p> +<p>"You're not coming with us?" Stransky whispered to Feller.</p> +<p>"Eh? eh?" Feller put his hand to his ear. "Quite deaf!" he +quavered. "But I judge you ask if I am coming with you. No. I have +to stay to look after my garden. It has been sadly damaged, I +fear."</p> +<p>"That's right—of course you're deaf!" agreed Stransky, +well knowing the contrary. "I'll be lonely without you, pal. It was +love at first sight with me!"</p> +<p>"And with me!" Feller whispered. "You and I, with a brigade of +infantry and guns—" he began, but remembering his part, as he +often would in the middle of a sentence since the distraction of +war was in his mind, he turned to go.</p> +<p>"A cheer for the old gardener! We don't know who he is or was, +and it's none of our business. He saved the day!" called +Stransky.</p> +<p>Feller started; he paused and looked back as he heard that +stentorian chorus in his honor; and, irresistibly, he made a snappy +officer's salute before starting on.</p> +<p>"That was very sweet to me," he was thinking, and then: "A +mistake! a mistake! One thought! One duty!"</p> +<p>Making to pass around the corner of the house, he was confronted +by Marta, who had come to the end of the veranda. There, within +hearing of the soldiers, the dialogue that followed was low-toned, +and it was swift and palpitant with repressed emotion.</p> +<p>"Mr. Feller, I saw you at the automatic. I heard what the +wounded private of the Grays said to you and realized how true it +was."</p> +<p>"He is a prisoner. He cannot tell."</p> +<p>"Does he need to? You have been seen—the conspicuous +figure of a man in gardener's garb fighting on the very terrace of +his own garden! The Gray staff is bound to hear of such an +extraordinary occurrence. It is one of those stories that travel of +themselves. And Westerling will find that same gardener here when +he comes! What hope have you for your ruse, then?"</p> +<p>"I—I—no matter! I forgot myself, when Lanny had +warned me not to go near the guns. My promise to him! My duty! I +accept what I have prepared for myself—that is a soldier's +code."</p> +<p>"But I shall not let you risk your life in this fashion."</p> +<p>"You—" A searching look—a look of fire—from +his eyes into hers, which were bright with appeal.</p> +<p>"I feel that I have no right to let you go to your death by a +firing squad," she interrupted hurriedly, "and I shall not! For I +decide now not to allow the telephone to remain!"</p> +<p>"But my chance—my one chance to—"</p> +<p>"You have it there—happiness in the work you like, the +work for which you seem to have been born—at least, a better +work than spying and deceit—the right that you have won this +morning there with the gun!"</p> +<p>"I"—he looked around at the automatic ravenously and +fearsomely—"I—"</p> +<p>"It is all simply arranged. There is time for me to use the +telephone before the Grays arrive. I shall tell Lanny why you took +charge of the gun and how you handled it, and I know he will want +you to keep it."</p> +<p>"And the uniform—the uniform again! Yes, the +uniform—if only a gunner private's uniform!" he exclaimed in +short, pulsating breaths of ecstasy.</p> +<p>"Yes, count on that, too! And good-by!"</p> +<p>"Good-by! I—" But she had already turned away. "I've +changed my mind! Exit gardener! Enter gunner! I'm going with you! +I'm going with you!" he cried in a jubilant voice that arrested the +attention of every one on the grounds. They saw him throw his arms +around Stransky and then rush to the automatic. "One thought! One +duty! Oh, that is easy now!" he breathed, caressing the breech with +a flutter of pats from both hands.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXVIII' id="XXVIII"></a> +<h2>XXVIII</h2> +<h3>AN APPEAL TO PARTOW</h3> +<br> +<p>"You, Marta—you are still there!" Lanstron exclaimed in +alarm when he heard her voice over the tunnel telephone. "But +safe!" he added in relief. "Thank God for that! It's a mighty load +off my mind. And your mother?"</p> +<p>"Safe, too."</p> +<p>"And Minna and little Clarissa Eileen?"</p> +<p>"All safe."</p> +<p>"Well, you're through the worst of it. There won't be any more +fighting around the house, and certainly Westerling will be +courteous. But where is Gustave?"</p> +<p>"Gone!"</p> +<p>"Gone!" he repeated dismally.</p> +<p>In a flash he had guessed another tragedy for poor Gustave, who +must have once more failed to stick to his purpose, thus shattering +the last hope that the thousandth chance would ever come to +anything.</p> +<p>"Wait until you hear how he went," Marta said. With all the +vividness of her impressions, a partisan for the moment of him and +Dellarme, she sketched Feller's part with the automatic.</p> +<p>As he listened, Lanstron's spirit was twenty again, with the +fever that Feller's "let's set things going!" could start +rollicking in his veins. What did the thousandth chance matter? +Only a wool-gatherer would ever have had any faith in it. Victory +for Gustave! Victory for the friend in whom he believed when others +had disbelieved! Victory for those gifts that had broken a career +against army routine in peace, once they had full play in war!</p> +<p>"I can see him," he said. "It was a full breath of fresh air to +the lungs of a suffocating man. I—"</p> +<p>Marta was off in interruption in the full tide of an appeal.</p> +<p>"You must—I promised—you must let him have the +uniform again!" she begged. "You must let him keep his automatic. +To take it away would be like separating mother and child; like +separating Minna from Clarissa Eileen."</p> +<p>"Better than an automatic—a battery of guns!" replied +Lanstron. "This is where I will use any influence I have with +Partow for all it is worth. Now, let the red-tapists dare to point +to his past when I ask anything for him and I'll overwhelm them +with the living present! Yes, and he shall have the iron cross. It +is for such deeds as his that the iron cross was meant."</p> +<p>"Thank you," she said. "It's worth something to make a man as +happy as you will make him. Yes, you are real flesh and blood to do +this, Lanny."</p> +<p>Her point won with surprising ease, when she had feared that +military form and law could not be circumvented, she leaned against +the wall in reaction. For twenty-four hours she had been without +sleep. The interest of her appeal for Feller had kept up her +strength after the excitement of the fight for the redoubt was +over. Now there seemed nothing left to do.</p> +<p>"No doctor who ever examined me for promotion has yet found that +I wasn't flesh and blood," Lanstron remarked a little +plaintively.</p> +<p>"Then the doctor must have kept the truth from Partow," she told +him with a faint return of the teasing spirit that he knew well. +"He wants only men of steel, with nerves of copper wire run by an +electric battery, on his staff, I'm sure."</p> +<p>Lanstron laughed very humanly for an automaton.</p> +<p>"I'll suggest the battery to him. It might prove a labor saver," +he said. "Being a little old-fashioned, he has depended on +clockwork, which requires a special orderly to wind us when we fun +down and nod at our desks." Then he turned solicitous. "The Gray +staff will certainly give you an escort beyond the Gray lines, +where you will find a place to establish yourselves +comfortably."</p> +<p>The suggestion brought her energy back with the snap of a +whip.</p> +<p>"No!" she declared. "We stay in our home. It's ours! No one else +has any right there while our taxes are paid. Doesn't my children's +oath say: 'I'll not let a burglar drive me out of my house'?"</p> +<p>"Isn't that coming around to my view, Marta?" he asked. "Aren't +we refusing to leave the nation's house because a burglar is trying +to enter?"</p> +<p>"Lanny, you, with all your intellect—when you know the +oath as well as I—you pettifog like that! The oath says to +appeal to justice and reason even after the first blow is struck. +Why doesn't our premier appeal to the people of the Grays?"</p> +<p>"They garbled his last despatch, as it was, to suit their +purpose."</p> +<p>"Their government garbled it. I meant to appeal not to their +premier but to the people, as human beings to human beings. Over +there they're human beings just as much as we are. Why didn't +Partow speak, too, as chief of staff, if he is so fond of peace? He +is the one—not the Fellers and the Dellarmes and the +Stranskys, who merely act up to their faith and training as +pawns—he in the security of his cabinet making war. Why +didn't he say: 'We do not want war. We will not mobilize our army. +We will do nothing to arouse the war passion?'"</p> +<p>"Their government would only have been convinced of an easier +conquest, and by this time they would have been up to the main line +of defence. Marta, when the diplomatic history of the war is known +it will be found that the Gray government struck as a matter of +cold, deliberate intention. Bodlapoo was only an excuse to carry +out a plan of conquest."</p> +<p>"So Partow has taught the Browns," she answered stubbornly. +"That is one partisan view. What is theirs? What is Westerling +teaching the Grays?"</p> +<p>"Marta—really, I—"</p> +<p>"What a smashing argument <i>really</i> is! You see that you +really are not for peace, but for war. But won't you ask Partow to +do one thing, if he still insists that he is for peace? I wonder if +he will chuckle or laugh at my suggestion, or will he grin or roar? +Though you know that he will do them all, ask him to send out a +flag of truce to the Grays and beg them to stay their operations +while his appeal—an appeal with a little of the Christ spirit +in it, from one Christian nation to another to stop the +murder—is read to the Gray soldiers and ours; to those who +have to suffer and die! Oh, I'd like to help write that appeal, +telling the women what I have seen! Do you think if it were given +to the world that the Grays would still come on? Ask him, Lanny, +ask him to make that simple human appeal, as brother to brother, to +the court of all humanity! Ask him, please, Lanny!"</p> +<p>"I shall, Marta!" he replied seriously, in respect for her +seriousness throbbing with the abandoned play of her vitality, +though he knew how fruitless the request would be. He loved her the +more for this outburst. He loved her for her quick sympathies with +any one in trouble, whether Feller or Minna; for all of her +inconsistencies which were so real to her; for her dreams, her +visions, her impulses, because she tried to put them in action, and +he envied Feller for having fought in defence of her house. How +could he expect her to interest herself exclusively in him as one +human being when all human beings interested her so profoundly? If +the world were peopled with Martas and their disciples then her +proposal would be practicable.</p> +<p>"That's fine of you, Lanny!" she said. "You've taken it like a +good stoic, this loss of your thousandth chance. You really +believed in it, didn't you?"</p> +<p>"Forgotten already, like the many other thousandth chances that +have failed," he replied cheerfully. "One of the virtues of +Partow's steel automatons is that, being tearless as well as +passionless, they never cry over spilt milk. And now," he went on +soberly, "we must be saying good-by."</p> +<p>"Good-by, Lanny? Why, what do you mean?" She was startled.</p> +<p>"Till the war is over," he said, "and longer than that, perhaps, +if La Tir remains in Gray territory."</p> +<p>"You speak as if you thought you were going to lose!"</p> +<p>"Not while many of our soldiers are alive, if they continue to +show the spirit that they have shown so far; not unless two men can +crush one man in the automatic-gun-recoil age. But La Tir is in a +tangent and already in the Grays' possession, while we act on the +defensive. So I should hardly be flying over your garden +again."</p> +<p>"But there's the telephone, Lanny, and here we are talking over +it this very minute!" she expostulated.</p> +<p>"You must remove it," he said. "If the Grays should discover it +they might form a suspicion that would put you in an unpleasant +position."</p> +<p>The telephone had become almost a familiar institution in her +thoughts. Its secret had something of the fascination for her of +magic.</p> +<p>"Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "I am going to be very lonely. I want +to learn how Feller is doing—I want to chat with you. So I +decide not to let it be taken out. And, you see, I have the +tactical situation, as you soldiers call it, all in my favor. The +work of removal must be done at my end of the line. You're quite +helpless to enforce your wishes. And, Lanny, if I ring the bell +you'll answer, won't you?"</p> +<p>"I couldn't help it!" he replied.</p> +<p>"Until then! You've been fine about everything to-day!"</p> +<p>"Until then!"</p> +<p>When Marta left the tower she knew only that she was weary with +the mind-weariness, the body-weariness, the nerve-weariness of a +spectator who has shared the emotion of every actor in a drama of +death and finds the excitement that has kept her tense no longer a +sustaining force.</p> +<p>As she went along the path, steps uncertain from sheer fatigue, +her sensibilities livened again at the sight of a picture. War, +personal war, in the form of the giant Stransky, was knocking at +the kitchen door. His two-days-old beard was matted with dust and +there were dried red spatters on his cheek. War's furnace flames +seemed to have tanned him; war seemed to be breathing from his deep +chest; his big nose was war's promontory. But the unexposed space +of his forehead seemed singularly white when he took off his cap as +Minna came in answer to his knock. Her yielding lips were parted, +her eyes were bright with inquiry and suspicion, her chin was +firmly set.</p> +<p>"I came to see if you would let me kiss your hand again," said +Stransky, squinting through his brows wistfully.</p> +<p>"Would that do you any good?" Minna asked.</p> +<p>"A lot—a big lot!" said Stransky. "But if it is easier for +you, why, you can give me another blow in the face. I deserve it. +It would show that you weren't quite indifferent; that you took +some interest in me."</p> +<p>"I see your nose has been broken once. You don't want it broken +a second time. I'm stronger than you think!" Minna retorted, and +held out her hand carelessly as if it pleased her to humor him.</p> +<p>He was rather graceful, despite his size, as he touched his lips +to her fingers. Just as he raised his head a burst of cheering rose +from the yard.</p> +<p>"So you've found that we have gone, you brilliant intellects!" +he shouted, and glared at the wall of the house in the direction of +the cheers.</p> +<p>"Quick! You have no time to lose!" Minna warned him.</p> +<p>"Quick! quick!" cried Marta.</p> +<p>Stransky paid no attention to the urgings. He had something more +to say to Minna.</p> +<p>"I'm going to keep thinking of you and seeing your +face—the face of a good woman—while I fight. And when +the war is over, may I come to call?" he asked.</p> +<p>His feet were so resolutely planted on the flags that apparently +the only way to move them was to consent.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes!" said Minna. "Now, hurry!"</p> +<p>"Say, but you make me happy! Watch me poke it into the Grays for +you!" he cried and bolted.</p> +<p>"It seems to me that he is the biggest, most ridiculous man I +ever saw!" said Minna, as she watched him out of sight. "I'm tired, +just tired to death, aren't you?" she added to Marta.</p> +<p>"Exactly!" agreed Marta. "I feel as if I had worked my way +through hell to heaven and heaven was the chance to sleep."</p> +<p>Within the kitchen Mrs. Galland was already slumbering soundly +in her chair. Overhead Marta heard the exclamations of male voices +and the tread of what was literally the heel of the +conqueror—guests that had come without asking! Intruders that +had entered without any process of law! Would they overrun the +house, her mother's room, her own room?</p> +<p>Indignation brought fresh strength as she started up the stairs. +The head of the flight gave on to a dark part of the hall. There +she paused, held by the scene that a score or more of Gray +soldiers, who had riotously crowded into the dining-room, were +enacting.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXIX' id="XXIX"></a> +<h2>XXIX</h2> +<h3>THROUGH THE VENEER</h3> +<br> +<p>These men in the dining-room were members of Fracasse's company +of the Grays whom Marta had seen from her window the night before +rushing across the road into the garden. It is time for their +story—the story of their attack on the redoubt. One of those +who remained motionless on the road was the doctor's son. If he had +sprained his ankle at man[oe]uvres, the whole company would have +gossiped about the accident. If he had died in the garrison +hospital from pneumonia, the barracks would have been blue for a +week. If he had fallen in the charge across the white posts, the +day-laborer's son on his right and the judge's son on his left +would have felt a spasm of horror.</p> +<p>This is death, they would have thought; death that barely missed +us; death that lays a man in the full tide of youth, as we are, +silent and still forever.</p> +<p>Twelve hours after the war had begun, when the judge's son +missed the doctor's son from the ranks, he remarked:</p> +<p>"Then they must have got him!"</p> +<p>"Yes, I Saw him roll over on his side," said the laborer's +son.</p> +<p>There was no further comment. The lottery had drawn the doctor's +son this time; it would get some one else with the next rush. +Existence had resolved itself into a hazard; all perspective was +merged into a brimstone-gray background. The men did not think of +home and parents, as they had on the previous night while they +waited for the war to begin, or of patriotism. Relatives were still +dear and country was still dear, but the threads of these +affections were no longer taut. They hung loose. Fatalism had taken +the place of suspense. There is no occurrence that frequency will +not make familiar, and they were already familiar with death.</p> +<p>A man might even get used to falling from a great height. At +first, in lightning rapidity of thought, all his life would pass in +review before him and all his hopes for the future would crowd +thick. But what if he were to go on descending for hours; yes, for +days? Would not his sensations finally wear themselves down to a +raw, quivering brain and the brain at length grow callous? Suppose, +further, that a number of men had been thrown over a precipice at +the same time as he and that the bottom of the abyss was the +distance from star to star! Suppose that they fell at the same rate +of speed! The first to be dashed against a shelf of rock would be a +ghastly reminder to each man of his own approaching end. But, +proceeding on horror's journey, he would become accustomed to such +pictures. He would feel hunger and cold. Physical discomfort would +overwhelm mental agony. If a biscuit shot out from the pocket of a +corpse, wouldn't the living hand grab for it in brute +greediness?</p> +<p>The thinner the veneer of civilized habit, the more easily the +animal, always waiting and craving war, breaks through. And the +animal was strong in Jacob Pilzer, the butcher's son. He had a +bull's heart and lacked the little tendrils of sensibility whose +writhing would tire him. Hugo Mallin had these tendrils by the +thousand. He had so many that they gave him a reserve physical +endurance like a kind of intoxication. He felt as if he had been +drinking some noxious, foamy wine which made his mind singularly +keen to every impression. Therefore he and Pilzer alone of +Fracasse's company were not utterly fatigued.</p> +<p>The savagery of Pilzer's bitterness at seeing another get the +bronze cross before he received one turned not on little Peterkin, +the valet's son, but on Hugo. As he and Hugo moved, elbow to elbow, +picking their way forward from the knoll, he eased his mind with +rough sarcasm at Hugo's expense. He christened Hugo "White Liver." +When Hugo stumbled over a stone he whispered:</p> +<p>"White Liver, that comes from the shaking knees of a +coward!"</p> +<p>Hugo did not answer, nor did he after they had crossed the road +and were under the cover of the fourth terrace wall, and Pilzer +whispered:</p> +<p>"Still with us, little White Liver? Cowards are lucky. But your +time will come. You will die of fright."</p> +<p>They worked their way ahead in the darkness to the third terrace +and then to the second, without drawing fire. There they were told +to unslip their packs "and sleep—sleep!"</p> +<p>Fracasse passed the word, as if this were also an order which +perforce must be obeyed. They dropped down in a row, their heads +against the cold stone wall. So closely packed were their bodies +that they could feel one another's breaths and heart-beats. Where +last night they had thought of a multitude of things in vivid +flashes, to-night nothing was vivid after the last explosion in the +town and there was an end of firing. Spaces of consciousness and +unconsciousness were woven together in a kind of patchwork chaos of +mind. For the raw brains were not yet quite calloused; they +quivered from the successive benumbing shocks of the day.</p> +<p>Hugo would not even cheat himself by trying to close his eyes. +He lay quite still looking at the quietly twinkling, kindly stars. +Unlike his comrades, he had not to go to hell in order to know what +hell was like. He had foreseen the nature of war's reality, so it +had not come as a surprise. Sufficient universal projection of this +kind of imagination might afford sufficient martial excitement +without war.</p> +<p>His mind was busy in the gestation of his impressions and +observations since he had crossed the frontier. Definitely he knew +that he was not afraid of bullets or shell fire, and in this fact +he found no credit whatever. The lion and the tiger and the little +wild pigs of South America who will charge a railroad train are +brave. But it took some courage to bear Pilzer's abuse in silence, +he was thinking, while he was conscious that out of all that he had +seen and felt in the conflict of multitudinous angles of view was +coming something definite, which would result in personal action, +fearless of any consequences.</p> +<p>The thing that held him back from a declaration of self was the +pale faces around him; his comrades of the barracks and +man[oe]uvres. He loved them; he thought, student fashion, that he +understood them. He liked being their humorist; he liked to win +their glances of affection. The fortitude to endure their contempt, +their enmity, their ostracism would not save those dear to him in +his distant provincial home from humiliation and heart-break. There +was the rub: his father and mother and his sweetheart. He was an +only son. His sweetheart was a goddess to his eyes. What purpose is +there in the rebellion of a grain of sand on the seashore, in the +insubordination of one of five million soldiers? Hadn't Westerling +answered all doubts with the aphorism, "It is a mistake for a +soldier to think too much"?</p> +<p>Thus pondering, in the company of the stars, Hugo, who had so +many thoughts of his own that he led a double life, awaited the +dawn. When the church spire became outlined in the rosy, breaking +light of the east, he thought how much it was like the church spire +of his own town. He saw that he was in what had been a beautiful, +tenderly cared-for old garden before soldiery had ruthlessly +trampled its flowers.</p> +<p>Raising his head to a level with the terrace wall—the +second terrace was low—he could see the piles of sand-bags on +the first terrace only twenty feet away and an old house that +belonged to the garden. The location appealed to him as his glance +swept over plain and mountains glistening with dew. It must be +glorious to come down from the veranda at daybreak or day's end to +look at the flowers at your feet and the horizon in the +distance.</p> +<p>"Could little White Liver sleep away from home and mamma? Did he +long for mamma to tuck him among the goose feathers, with a sweet +biscuit in his paddy?" inquired Pilzer awakening.</p> +<p>Hugo looked around at Pilzer in his quizzical fashion.</p> +<p>"Jake, you are unnecessarily uprooting an aster with the toe of +your boot," he said.</p> +<p>Pilzer had a torrent of abuse ready to his tongue's end when +Fracasse interrupted with a hoarse, whispered warning:</p> +<p>"Silence, Pilzer! You talk too much."</p> +<p>Now the irascible Pilzer had a further grudge against Hugo for +having made him the object of a reprimand.</p> +<p>"You!" he whispered, when the captain's back was turned, calling +Hugo a foul name.</p> +<p>This cut through even Hugo's philosophy and the blood went in a +hot rush to his cheeks; but he slipped on his pack, as the others +were doing, and readjusted his cartridge-box. Word was passed to +make ready for another rush, and soon the men knew that yesterday +was not part of the hideous nightmare which had kept their legs +quivering mechanically, as in the charge, while they slept, but +that the nightmare was a continuing reality and the peace of +morning a dream.</p> +<p>Under cover of the rain of shell fire on Dellarme's position, +already described, they mounted the wall of the second terrace and +ran to the wall of the first terrace. They had expected to suffer +terribly, but passed safely underneath a sheet of bullets that +caught other sections of their regiment on the lower terraces. Over +their heads were the muzzles of the Browns' rifles, blazing toward +the road, while in the direction of the tower they saw the first +charge of another regiment melting like snow under sprays of flame. +They could not fire at Dellarme's men and Dellarme's men could not +fire at them without leaning over the parapet. They could not go +ahead. There was no room to their rear, for the reserves behind the +third terrace had rushed up to the second terrace; those behind the +fourth to the third; and still others across the road to the +fourth, in successive waves.</p> +<p>With a welter of slaughter around them, Fracasse's men were in +something of the position that little Peterkin had enjoyed in the +shell crater. They ate a breakfast of biscuits, washed down by +water from their canteens. Trickles of sand from bullet holes +sprinkled their shoulders and they had enough resiliency of spirit +to grin when a stream of sand from a bag torn by a shell burst ran +down the back of Pilzer's neck. It was rather amusing to hear Jake +growling as he twisted in his blouse.</p> +<p>Hugo caught the humor of it in another sense, for the same shell +burst threw a piece of brown sleeve matted in a piece of flesh +among the flowers. The next instant he saw a squad of Grays who +sprang up to rush toward the linden stumps go down under the hose +stream from the automatic with the precision of having been struck +by an electric current. Not occupied, as he had been yesterday, +with the business of keeping to his part as a physical cog in the +machine, he was seeing war as a spectator—as Marta saw it, as +only a privileged few ever see it. Society, he was thinking, took +the trouble to bring boys through the whooping-cough and measles, +pay for clothing and doctors' bills, and, while it complained about +business losses and safe-guarded trees and harvests and buildings, +destroyed the most valuable product of all with a spatter of +bullets from a rapid-firer.</p> +<p>The position of him and his comrades struck him as tragically +ludicrous. Were they grown men? Had they reasoning minds? Were they +of the great races that had given the world steam-power, electric +power, anæsthesia, and antiseptics? Had they the religion of +Christ? Had they an inheritance of great ages of art, literature, +music, and philosophy? Did they guard the treasures of their +libraries and galleries? Would they shudder in indignation if some +one sent a bullet through the Sistine Madonna, or throw a bomb at +the Venus de Milo, or struck a rare Chinese porcelain into +fragments with an axe?</p> +<p>Yes; oh, yes!</p> +<p>Here were beings created in the likeness of their Maker, whose +criterion of superiority over other animals was in these symbols +and not in that of tooth, claw, or talon, disembowelling their +fellow creatures. Here were beings huddled together like a lot of +puppies or cubs on an island in the midst of carnage which was not +a visitation of the Almighty, but of their own making. And suicide +and homicide were against the law in the lands of both the Browns +and the Grays!</p> +<p>The whole business was monstrous, lunatic, inconceivable. Yet he +himself was one of the actors, without the character or the courage +to break free of the machine which was taking lives with the +irresponsibility of a baby hammering at the jewels of a watch. The +fact that he knew better made him far more culpable, he thought, +than little Peterkin or any of his comrades. Yes, he was +despicable; he was a coward!</p> +<p>All were lulled into a sense of security except Captain +Fracasse, who had a set frown of apprehension which came of a +professional knowledge not theirs. Little Peterkin, warmed by the +autumn sunlight, began to believe in his star. If there were to be +a special dispensation providing shell craters and the reverse +walls of redoubts for him, he might retain his reputation for +heroism.</p> +<p>The sand still working its way downward between Pilzer's bare +skin and his undershirt irritated him to unusual restlessness of +ambition for glory and bronze crosses. He was the strong man of his +company, now that Eugene Aronson was dead. He must prove his +importance. An inspiration made him leap to his feet. This brought +his head within a foot of the top of the parapet, with an enemy's +rifle barrel in easy reach. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he was +the type who must precede action with a boast; a bite with a growl. +Let all see that he was about to do a gallant, clever thing.</p> +<p>"Watch me snatch that rifle!" he announced.</p> +<p>"No, you don't! Get down!" snapped Fracasse. "We aren't inviting +hand-grenades. It's a wonder that we have escaped so far."</p> +<p>"Hand-grenades!" gasped Peterkin, going white.</p> +<p>But nobody observed his pallor. Every one else was gasping, +"Hand-grenades!" under his breath; or, if not, his thoughts were +shrieking, "Hand-grenades!" There was a restless movement, a +wistful look to the rear.</p> +<p>"Keep quiet!" whispered Fracasse. "Let us hope it isn't known +that we're here."</p> +<p>They became as still as men of stone.</p> +<p>"Well, if they are going to throw grenades then they will throw +them!" exclaimed Peterkin with the bravery of fear. He must do or +say something worthy of a hero, he thought, in order to prove that +he was not as scared as he knew he had looked and still felt.</p> +<p>"You have the right sort of <i>sang-froid</i>, Peter +Kinderling!" whispered Fracasse. "And you, Pilzer, showed a proper +spirit, too, if wrongly directed."</p> +<p>Under cover of this favor, Peterkin drew a little out of line, +making a great pretence of stretching his legs and +yawning—yawning with a sincerely dropped jaw and a quivering +lip. He pressed his chin against the ground and this stopped the +quivering. Also, he was in a position to watch the parapet closely +and to make a quick spring.</p> +<p>Fatalism had become suspense—suspense without action to +take their minds off the prospect, the suspense of death lurking in +a cloud which might break in a lightning flash! They thought that +they knew the full gamut of horrors; but nothing that they had yet +gone through was any criterion for what they now had to endure. All +understood the nature of a hand-grenade, which bursts like a +Nihilist's bomb. It was as easy, they knew, to toss hand-grenades +over the sand-bags into human flesh as apples into a basket. They +felt themselves bound and gagged, waiting for an assassin to +macerate them at his own sweet will.</p> +<p>The second hour was worse than the first, the third worse than +the second. In lulls they heard the voices of Dellarme and his men, +which seemed more ominous than the crash of rifles or the scream +and crack of shells. Finally there was a lull which they knew meant +the supreme attempt to storm the position from the town side. They +heard the commotion that followed Dellarme's death; the sharp, +rallying commands of Feller and Stransky; and then, as Peterkin saw +a black object fly free of a hand over the parapet he made a +catlike spring, followed by another and another, and plunged face +downward at the angle where the face of the redoubt bent toward the +town.</p> +<p>He thought that he was dead, and found, as he had in the shell +crater, that he was not. After the two explosions he heard groans +that chilled his blood, and looked around to see living faces like +chalk, with glassy, beady, protruding eyes, and a dozen men killed +and eviscerated and mangled in bleeding confusion.</p> +<p>But Hugo and Pilzer and those of Peterkin's immediate group were +alive. They were in their places, while he was alone and out of his +place. He had bolted, while they held their ground; now he would be +revealed in his true light. The bronze cross would be lost before +it was pinned to his breast. From where he lay, however, he could +see the other face of the redoubt and a wedge of men about to mount +the sand-bags. His next act was born of the inspired cunning of his +fear of being exposed, which was almost as compelling as his fear +of death. He waved his hand excitedly to the others to come on.</p> +<p>"Charge! Charge! This is the way!" shrieked Peterkin.</p> +<p>His voice had the terror of a man floating toward a falls and +calling for a rope, but not so to Fracasse, to whom it was the +voice of a great chance. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Of +course, he should move around under cover of the reverse wall of +the redoubt to join in the attack on the weak point! The valet's +son had shown him the way.</p> +<p>"Come, men, come! Follow me and Peterkin!" cried Fracasse.</p> +<p>Did they follow? Westerling or any expert in the psychology of +war could understand how ripe was their mood. "It is the wait under +right conditions that will make men fiends unleashed when the word +to storm is given," an older authority had written. Under sentence +of death for six hours, they welcomed any opportunity to get at +grips with those who had held death suspended over their heads.</p> +<p>You will use hand-grenades, will you? Snug behind sand-bags you +will tear the flesh of our comrades to pieces, will you? They saw +red, the red of raw fragments of flesh; the red of the gush from +torn artery walls—all except Hugo and Peterkin, who might +well begin to believe that there was a measure of art in heroism. +Peterkin seemed to share leadership at the captain's side, but he +slipped and fell—he had weak ankles, anyway—as +Fracasse's men pressed the rear of the wedge forward with the +strength of mass, only to be borne back by men, riddled with +bullets, tumbling fairly into their faces.</p> +<p>As we have seen, there was no getting through a breach under the +concentrated blasts of a hundred rifles, and Pilzer, who, by using +human shoulders for steps, had reached the parapet, turned a back +somersault with out his rifle. However, he seized one from a dead +man's hand before the captain had noticed the loss. Some of the +company joined in the flight of the attackers from the town into +the open, but Hugo and Pilzer and their friends remained under +cover of the wall. They still saw red, the red of a darker +anger—that of repulse.</p> +<p>When, finally, they burst into the redoubt after it was found +that the Browns had gone, all, even the judge's son, were the war +demon's, own. The veneer had been warped and twisted and burned off +down to the raw animal flesh. Their brains had the fever itch of +callouses forming. Not a sign of brown there in the yard; not a +sign of any tribute after all they had endured! They had not been +able to lay hands on the murderous throwers of hand-grenades. Far +away now was the barrack-room geniality of the forum around Hugo; +in oblivion were the ethics of an inherited civilization taught by +mothers, teachers, and church.</p> +<p>But here was a house—a house of the Browns; a big, fine +house! They would see what they had won—this was the +privilege of baffled victory. What they had won was theirs! To the +victor the spoils! Pell-mell they crowded into the dining-room, +Hugo with the rest, feeling himself a straw on the crest of a wave, +and Pilzer, most bitter, most ugly of all, his short, strong teeth +and gums showing and his liver patch red, lumpy, and trembling. In +crossing the threshold of privacy they committed the act that +leaves the deepest wound of war's inheritance, to go on from +generation to generation in the history of families.</p> +<p>"A swell dining-room! I like the chandeliers!" roared +Pilzer.</p> +<p>With his bayonet he smashed the only globe left intact by the +shell fire. There was a laugh as a shower of glass fell on the +floor. Even the judge's son, the son of the tribune of law, joined +in. Pilzer then ripped up the leather seat of a chair. This +introductory havoc whetted his appetite for other worlds of +conquest, as the self-chosen leader of the increasing crowd that +poured through the doorway.</p> +<p>"Maybe there's food!" he shouted. "Maybe there's wine!"</p> +<p>"Food and wine!"</p> +<p>"Yes, wine! We're thirsty!"</p> +<p>"And maybe women! I'd like to kiss a pretty maid servant!" +Pilzer added, starting toward the hall.</p> +<p>"Stop!" cried Hugo, forcing his way in front of Pilzer.</p> +<p>He was like no one of the Hugos of the many parts that his +comrades had seen him play. His blue eyes had become an inflexible +gray. He was standing half on tiptoe, his quivering muscles in tune +with the quivering pitch of his voice: a Hugo in anger! This was a +tremendous joke. He was about to regain his reputation as a +humorist by a brilliant display in keeping with the new order of +their existence.</p> +<p>"We have no right in here! This is a private house!"</p> +<p>But the fever of their savagery—the infectious savagery of +the mob—wanted no humor of this kind.</p> +<p>"Out of the way, you white-livered little rat!" cried Pilzer, +"or I'll prick the tummy of mamma's darling!"</p> +<p>What happened then was so sudden and unexpected in Hugo that all +were vague about details. They saw him in a catapultic lunge, +mesmeric in its swiftness, and they saw Pilzer go down, his leg +twisted under him and his head banging the floor. Hugo stood, half +ashamed, half frightened, yet ready for another encounter.</p> +<p>Fracasse, entering at this moment, was too intent on his mission +to consider the rights of a personal difference between two of his +company, though he heard and noted Pilzer's growling complaint that +he had been struck an unfair blow.</p> +<p>"There's work to do! Out of here, quick! We are losing valuable +time!" he announced, rounding his men toward the door with +commanding gestures. "We are going in pursuit!"</p> +<p>Marta, who had observed the latter part of the scene from the +shadows of the hall, knew that she should never forget Hugo's face +as he turned on Pilzer, while his voice of protest struck a singing +chord in her jangling nerves. It was the voice of civilization, of +one who could think out of the orbit of a whirlpool of passionate +barbarism. She could see that he was about to spring and her prayer +went with his leap. She gloried in the impact that felled the great +brute with the liver patch on his cheek, which was like a birthmark +of war.</p> +<p>After the men were gone she regretted that she had not gone to +Hugo and expressed her gratitude. She vaguely wondered if she +should see him again and hoped that she might. The two faces, +Hugo's and Pilzer's, in the instant of Hugo's protest and Pilzer's +contempt, were as clear as in life before her eyes.</p> +<p>Then a staff-officer appeared in the doorway. When he saw a +woman enter the room he frowned. He had ridden from the town, which +was empty of women, a fact that he regarded as a blessing. If she +had been a maid servant he would have kept on his cap. Seeing that +she was not, he removed it and found himself in want of words as +their eyes met after she had made a gesture to the broken glass on +the floor and the lacerated table top, which said too plainly:</p> +<p>"Do you admire your work?"</p> +<p>The fact that he was well groomed and freshly shaven did not in +any wise dissipate in her feminine mind his connection with this +destruction. He had never seen anything like the smile which went +with the gesture. Her eyes were two continuing and challenging +flames. Her chin was held high and steady, and the pallor of +exhaustion, with the blackness of her hair-and eyes, made her +strangely commanding. He understood that she was not waiting for +him to speak, but to go.</p> +<p>"I did not know that there was a woman here!" he said.</p> +<p>"And I did not know that officers of the Grays were accustomed +to enter private houses without invitations!" she replied.</p> +<p>"This is a little different," he began.</p> +<p>She interrupted him.</p> +<p>"But the law of the Grays is that homes should be left +undisturbed, isn't it? At least, it is the law of civilization. I +believe you profess, too, to protect property, do you not?"</p> +<p>"Why, yes!" he agreed. He wished that he could get a little +respite from the steady fire of her eyes. It was embarrassing and +as confusing as the white light of an impracticable logic.</p> +<p>"In that case, please place a guard around our house lest some +more of your soldiers get out of control," she went on.</p> +<p>"I can do that, yes," he said. "But we are to make this a staff +headquarters and must start at once to put the house in +readiness."</p> +<p>"General Westerling's headquarters?" she inquired.</p> +<p>He parried the question with a frown. Staff-officers never give +information. They receive information and transmit orders.</p> +<p>"I know General Westerling. You will tell him that my mother, +Mrs. Galland, and our maid and myself are very tired from the +entertainment he has given us, unasked, and we need sleep to-night. +So you will leave us until morning and that door, sir, is the one +out into the grounds."</p> +<p>The staff-officer bowed and went out by that door, glad to get +away from Marta's eyes. His inspection of the premises with a view +to plans for staff accommodation could wait. Westerling would not +be here for two days at least.</p> +<p>"Whew! What energy she has!" he thought. "I never had anybody +make me feel so contemptibly unlike a gentleman in my life."</p> +<p>Yet Marta, returning to the hall, had to steady herself in a +dizzy moment against the wall. Complete reaction had come. She +craved sleep as if it were the one true, real thing in the world. +She craved sleep for the clarity of mind that comes with the +morning light. In the haziness of fleecy thought, as slumber drew +its soft clouds around her, her last conscious visions were the +pleasant ones rising free of a background of horror: of Feller's +smile when he went back to his automatic for good; of Dellarme's +smile as he was dying; of Stransky's smile as Minna gave him hope; +and of Hugo's face as he uttered his flute-like cry of protest. In +her ears were the haunting calmness and contained force of +Lanstron's voice over the telephone. She was pleased to think that +she had not lost her temper in her talk with the staff-officer. No, +she had not flared once in indignation. It was as if she had +absorbed some of Lanny's own self-control. Lanny would approve of +her in that scene with an officer of the Grays. And she realized +that a change had come over her—a change inexplicable and +telling—and she was tired—oh, so tired! It had been +exhausting work, indeed, for one woman, though she had been around +the world, making war on two armies.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Meanwhile, all too flushed with energy, the energy of movement, +to think of the feud between Hugo and Pilzer, Fracasse's men had +sped along the castle road. Little Peterkin easily kept pace. There +was no danger in pursuit. In him was the same zest of the chase +which Animated his comrades. They dropped down on a ledge without +much regard to order. Before them, at close range, was a company +breaking out of close order in a <i>sauve-qui-peut</i> rout up a +reverse slope. It was not Dellarme's company, but some other that +had mistaken its direction and retired too late and by the wrong +road.</p> +<p>You will throw hand-grenades, will you? thought Fracasse's men. +You will mangle our fellows when they Can't strike back, will you? +Now you'll pay! Now it is our turn! We have seen our blood flow and +now yours will flow!</p> +<p>The lust of the red slipped the cartridge clips into the +magazines and held a true aim in the mad delight of slaughter. No +one minded, for no one heard—not even little +Peterkin—the scattering bullets in return. They had reached +the stage where the objective thought of revenge wholly submerged +the subjective thought of personal danger, which is the mood of the +hungry tiger in the hunt. They were the veritable finished products +of veteran experience in purpose and marksmanship. Hugo, too, was +firing, but far over the head of every target; firing like a man in +a trance who needs some deciding incident to bring him out of it +into the part he was to play.</p> +<p>Only occasional figures who had not escaped over the ridge were +to be seen. The fewer the targets the greater the concentration. A +whole company was firing on a dozen straggling figures. But +one—that one in the pasture—seemed to have a charmed +life. The ground around him was peppered with dust spots. He had +only a few yards more to go to safety; yes his head—the +exasperation of him!—was in line with the crest before he +fell.</p> +<p>Where was there any more prey? With ferret quickness eyes swept +the range of vision. Out of an orchard into the stubble of a +wheat-field broke a panicky mass; a score or more of men who had +lost their officer and their heads presumably. They were the nail +under the hammer, a brown blot, a target.</p> +<p>"Ah!" a chorus of excited exclamations in greeting of the game +flushed from cover ran along the line. Just the way you got our +fellows with the hand-grenades, we will get you! This was the +thought, this the prayer which they saw being fulfilled by the glad +medley of their fire when Hugo Mallin sprang up and threw down his +rifle as if it were something whose touch had become venomous. He +threw it down with features transformed in the uplifting thought +and the relief of a final resolution taken.</p> +<p>"I am through!" he cried. "I will not murder my fellowman who +has done me no wrong! I cannot, I will not kill!"</p> +<p>Fracasse, who was near by, heard enough to understand the +purport of the declaration, and his recollection of Hugo's heresy +and all the prejudice that he had formed against Hugo and the +abhorrence of Hugo's offence to the strict militarist brought a +rush of anger to his brain as he leaped up and drawing his sword, +struck at Hugo with the flat of it. He aimed for Hugo's back, but a +bullet had hit Hugo in the calf of his leg and, his knees giving +under him, he received the blow on the head and fell +unconscious.</p> +<p>When he came to it was with a twitch of pain in his ribs. He saw +the glowering faces of his comrades above him and realized that +Pilzer had given him a kick which expressed the general +opinion.</p> +<p>"Once ought to be enough of that," said the doctor, who was +bandaging the leg, speaking to Pilzer.</p> +<p>Yet in the doctor's eyes Hugo saw no favor, only the humanity of +his occupation of mercy to criminal and king alike. But Hugo +expected no favor and he was glad of what he had done as he swooned +again. When he came to a second time, his head aching with throbs, +it was with a sense of falling. He found that he was on a litter +that had just been set down. Evidently this was by order of the +colonel, who was standing over Hugo in the company of some +officers. All were regarding him as if he were a species of +reptile.</p> +<p>"World anarchist ideas, which is another word for treason or +white liver," observed the colonel. "To think that it happened in +my regiment! But I'll not try to cover it for the regiment's good +name. He will get the full measure of the law!"</p> +<p>"The placard is a good idea," suggested an officer.</p> +<p>"Yes, put on by one of his comrades!"</p> +<p>"The punishment of public opinion. It shows how sound the army +is at heart."</p> +<p>Hugo, lowering his glance, was able to see a sheet of note-paper +pinned to his blouse. It was lettered, but he could not make out +the words. Then he heard the approach of a galloping horse, whose +hoofs seemed to strike his head, and heard the horse stop and an +orderly saying something about Company I having got too far forward +into a mess and the need of litters.</p> +<p>"We can spare this one," said the colonel.</p> +<p>Hugo was rolled roughly onto the ground by the roadside and left +alone. He managed to raise himself on his elbow and saw that the +lettering of the placard was "Coward!" Officers and soldiers and +hospital-corps men called attention to it as they passed. The sun +was very hot and he was growing feverish. Painfully he dragged +himself to the shelter of a tree, and then, looking around, saw +that he was near the big house of the terraced garden.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXX' id="XXX"></a> +<h2>XXX</h2> +<h3>MARTA MEETS HUGO</h3> +<br> +<p>The general staff-officer of the Grays, who had tasted Marta's +temper on his first call, when he returned the next morning did not +enter unannounced. He rang the door-bell.</p> +<p>"I have a message for you from General Westerling," he said to +her. "The general expresses his deep regret at the unavoidable +damage to your house and grounds and has directed that everything +possible be done immediately in the way of repairs."</p> +<p>In proof of this the officer called attention to a group of +service-corps men who were removing the sand-bags from the first +terrace. Others were at work in the garden setting uprooted plants +back into the earth.</p> +<p>"His Excellency says," continued the officer, "that, although +the house is so admirably suited for staff purposes, we will find +another if you desire."</p> +<p>He was too polite and too considerate in his attitude for Marta +not to meet him in the same spirit.</p> +<p>"That is what we should naturally prefer," and Marta bowed her +head in indecision.</p> +<p>"We should have to begin installing the telegraph and telephone +service on the lower floor at once," he remarked. "In fact, all +arrangements must be made before the general's arrival."</p> +<p>"He has been a guest here before," she said reminiscently and +detachedly.</p> +<p>Her head dropped lower, in apparent disregard of his presence, +as she took counsel with herself. She was perfectly still, without +even the movement of an eyelash. Other considerations than any he +might suggest, he subtly understood, held her attention. They were +the criterion by which she would at length assent or dissent, and +nothing could hurry the Marta of to-day, who yesterday had been a +creature of feverish impulse.</p> +<p>It seemed a long time that he was watching that wonderful +profile under the very black hair, soft with the softness of flesh, +yet firmly carved. She lifted her head gradually, her eyes sweeping +past the spot where Dellarme had lain dying, where Feller had +manned the automatic, where Stransky had thrown Pilzer over the +parapet. He saw the glance arrested and focussed on the flag of the +Grays, which was floating from a staff on the outskirts of the +town, and slowly, glowingly, the light rippling on its folds was +reflected in her face.</p> +<p>"She is for us! She is a Gray!" he thought triumphantly. The +woman and the flag! The matter-of-fact staff-officer felt the +thrill of sentiment.</p> +<p>"I think we can arrange it," Marta announced with a rare smile +of assent.</p> +<p>"Then I'll go back to town and set the signal-corps men to +work," he said.</p> +<p>"And when you come you will find the house at your disposal," +she assured him.</p> +<p>Except that he was raising his cap instead of saluting, he was +conscious of withdrawing with the deference due to a superior.</p> +<p>In place of the smile, after he had gone, came a frown and a +look in her eyes as if at something revolting; then the smile +returned, to be succeeded by the frown, which was followed by an +indeterminate shaking of the head.</p> +<p>The roar of battle kept up its steady refrain in the direction +of the range. Marta had heard it when she fell asleep and heard it +when she awakened. A battery of heavy guns of the Grays broke their +flashes from a knoll this side of the one where Dellarme's men had +made their first stand. At the foot of the garden, where yesterday +she had distributed flowers to the wounded Browns, a regiment of +Gray infantry was marching past a train of siege-guns. All the +figures moving on the landscape, which yesterday had been brown, +had changed to gray. The Grays were masters of the town and all the +neighborhood.</p> +<p>Marta stepped down from the veranda in response to the call of +the open air to physical vigor renewed after sweet sleep. Rather +than return directly to the kitchen, where breakfast was waiting, +she would go around the house. She stopped before a Japanese maple +which had been split by a shell striking in a crotch. Was there any +hope of saving it? No. She turned white about the lips, with red +spots on her cheeks, and at length nodded her head as if in answer +to some inward question.</p> +<p>Over the sward, cut by shell fragments, lay torn limbs and bits +of bark, and in the shade of a tree near the road she had a glimpse +of the shoulder of the gray uniform of a prostrate man. The rest of +him was hidden by the low-hanging branches of one of the Norway +spruces which bordered the estate at this point. Another step and +she saw a circular red spot on a white leg bandage; another, and a +white square of paper pinned to a blouse; another, and she +identified the wounded man as her hero of the scene in the +dining-room.</p> +<p>Hugo's eyes were closed, his breaths slow, in restless sleep. +His face, flushed with fever, was winningly boyish and frank. He +who had had the courage to speak alone against the opinion of his +fellows, to voice a belief that made every sympathetic chord in her +own mind sing with praise and understanding, the courage to say +that invasion was wrong even when made by his own people, had been +labelled coward and left to die!</p> +<p>The exaltation of his features when he had been the champion of +her beliefs and her impulse against the barbarism of his comrades +and the charm of their resignation now, the pitifulness of his +condition—all had an appeal as she bent over him that called +for an expression having the touch of the sublimely feminine. She +took his hand in hers and pressed it gently. He awoke and brought +himself jerkily to a sitting posture. The effort made a crash in +his head that sent his senses swimming. She thought that he was +going to swoon and slipped her arm behind him in support and, the +Marta of impulse, pressed her lips to his brow. After the first +racking throb of his temples he was able to steady himself, and as +she drew away she saw his blue eyes starting in wonder at her +act.</p> +<p>"I—I had to do it to thank you for what you did in the +dining-room!" she stammered.</p> +<p>"Oh! Oh! It was very beautiful of you, but I couldn't help being +surprised, for it was rather unusual—from a stranger." He +smiled, and Hugo had a gift in smiles, as we know: smiles for +laughter, smiles for reassurance, and smiles to cure embarrassment. +"It was almost as refreshing as a drink of water," he concluded +impersonally.</p> +<p>"You are thirsty?"</p> +<p>"This—this is morning, isn't it?" Hugo went on +quizzically.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes!"</p> +<p>"Then it must be the next day," he pursued, still quizzically. +"You see, I said I would not kill any more—and I will +not—and I was shot and got tagged without even being shipped +as freight. I was thirsty last night, very thirsty, and some +one—I think it was Jake Pilzer—some one said to go to +the fountain of hell for a drink, but I—I don't think that a +very good place to get a drink, do you?"</p> +<p>Weak and faint as he was, he put a touch of drollery into the +question which made her laugh, her eyes sparkling through a moist +haze.</p> +<p>"You're real, aren't you?" he inquired in sudden perplexity. +"I'm not dreaming?"</p> +<p>"As real as the water I shall bring you."</p> +<p>Soon Marta was back, holding a glass to his lips.</p> +<p>"There's no doubt about it; you are real!" said Hugo.</p> +<p>"I feel as if the chimney were still hot but that you had +drenched the fire in the grate."</p> +<p>"Who put this on you?" she asked as she unpinned the +placard.</p> +<p>"I've a vague idea, from a vague overhearing of the colonel's +remarks, that it is public opinion," he replied, and seeing, that +she was about to tear it up, he arrested her action. "No, I think +I'd like to save it as a souvenir—the odds are so greatly +against me—as a sort of souvenir to keep up my courage."</p> +<p>His tone, the way he drew the muscles of his face, ironed out +her frown of disgust at public opinion with a smile. For he made +his kind of courage no less light-hearted and free of pose than +Dellarme had made his.</p> +<p>Directly the coachman, whom Marta had summoned when she went for +the water, appeared with an improvised litter, and the two bore in +at the kitchen door a guest for breakfast whose arrival gave Mrs. +Galland a distinctly visible surprise. His uniform was gray, and in +her heart of hearts she hated gray as the symbol of an enemy whom +her husband had fought. But when Marta told the story of the part +he had played in defence of the chandelier, personal partisanship +abetted the motherly impulse that was already breaking down +prejudice. She was busy with a dozen suggestions for his comfort, +quite taking matters out of Marta's hands.</p> +<p>"I know more about the care of the sick than you do!" she +insisted. "One lump or two in your coffee, sir? There, there, you +had better let me hold the cup for you. You are sure you can sit +up? Then we must have a pillow."</p> +<p>"I'll fetch one from the other room," put in Minna.</p> +<p>"Two will be better!" Marta called after her.</p> +<p>"It is delightful to have breakfast in your kitchen, madame," +said Hugo to Mrs. Galland in a way that ought to have justified her +in thinking herself the most charming and useful person in the +world.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXXI' id="XXXI"></a> +<h2>XXXI</h2> +<h3>UNTO CÆSAR</h3> +<br> +<p>It was more irritating than ever for Mrs. Galland to keep pace +with her daughter's inconsistencies. There was a Marta listening in +partisan sympathy to Hugo's story of why he had refused to fight +and telling the story of her school in return. There was a Marta +seizing Hugo's hand in a quick, impulsive grasp as she exclaimed: +"Your act personified what I taught my children!" There was a Marta +planning how he should be secreted in the coachman's quarters over +the stable, where he would be reasonably free from discovery until +his strength was regained. Then here was another Marta, after Hugo +had been carried away on the litter, saying coolly to her +mother:</p> +<p>"'Unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's!' We have +our property, our home to protect. Perhaps the Grays have come to +stay for good, so graciousness is our only weapon. We cannot fight +a whole army single-handed."</p> +<p>"You have found that out, Marta?" said Mrs. Galland.</p> +<p>"We have four rooms in the baron's tower and a kitchen stove," +Marta proceeded. "With Minna we can make ourselves very comfortable +and leave the house to the staff."</p> +<p>"The Gallands in their gardener's quarters! The staff of the +Grays in ours! Your father will turn in his grave!" Mrs. Galland +exclaimed.</p> +<p>"But, mother, it is not quite agreeable to think of three women +living in the same house with a score of strange men!" Marta +persisted.</p> +<p>"I had not thought of that, Marta. Of course, it would be +abominable!" agreed Mrs. Galland, promptly capitulating where a +point of propriety was involved.</p> +<p>When Marta informed the officer—the same one who had rung +the door-bell on his second visit—of the family's decision he +appeared shocked at the idea of eviction that was implied. But, +secretly pleased at the turn of events, he hastened to apologize +for war's brutal necessities, and Marta's complaisance led him to +consider himself something of a diplomatist. Yes, more than ever he +was convinced of the wisdom of an invader ringing door-bells.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, the service-corps men had continued their work until +now there was no vestige of war in the grounds that labor could +obliterate; and masons had come to repair the walls of the house +itself and plasterers to renew the broken ceilings.</p> +<p>All this Marta regarded in a kind of charmed wonder that an +invader could be so considerate. Her manner with the officers in +charge of preparations had the simplicity and ease which a woman of +twenty-seven, who is not old-maidish because she is not afraid of a +single future, may employ as a serene hostess. She frequently asked +if there were good news.</p> +<p>"Yes," was the uniform reply. An unexpected setback here or +resistance there, but progress, nevertheless. But she learned, too, +that the first two days' fighting along the frontier had cost the +Grays fifty thousand casualties.</p> +<p>"In order to make an omelet you must break eggs!" she +remarked.</p> +<p>"Spoken like a true soldier—like a member of the staff!" +was the reply.</p> +<p>In her constraint and detachment they realized her conscious +appreciation of the fact that in earlier times her people had been +for the Browns; but in her flashes of interest in the progress of +the war, flashes from a woman's unmilitary mind, they judged that +her heart was with the Grays. And why not? Was it not natural that +a woman with more than her share of intellectual perception should +be on the right side? From her associations it was not to be +expected that she would make an outright declaration of apostasy. +This would destroy the value and the attractiveness of her +conversion Reverence for the past, for a father who had fought for +the Browns, against her own convictions, made her attitude appear +singularly and delicately correct.</p> +<p>Though everything was ready for them, the staff delayed coming +owing to the stubbornness of some heavy guns of the Browns, which, +while they had directed no shells against the house, had shown that +they had the range by unexpectedly playing havoc with infantry in +close order on the pass road at the foot of the garden and with +transportation on the castle road. But at last the battery was +silenced and the mind of the army might establish itself in its +offices on the ground floor and its quarters on the second floor +without being in danger.</p> +<p>The war was a week old—a week which had developed other +tangents and traps than La Tir—on the morning that the first +instalment of junior officers came to occupy the tables and desks. +Where the family portraits had hung in the dining-room were now big +maps dotted with brown and gray flags. Portable field cabinets with +sectional maps on a large scale were arranged around the walls of +the drawing-room. In what had been the lounging room of the old +days of Galland prosperity, the refrain of half a dozen telegraph +instruments made medley with the clicking of typewriters. Cooks and +helpers were busy in the kitchen; for the staff were to live like +gentlemen; they were to have their morning baths, their comfortable +beds, and regular meals. No twinge of indigestion or of rheumatism +from exposure was to interfere with the working of their precious +intellectual processes. No detail of assistance would be lacking to +save any bureaucratic head time and labor The bedrooms were +apportioned according to rank—that of the master awaited the +master; the best servant's bedroom awaited François, his +valet.</p> +<p>When Bouchard, the chief of intelligence, who fought the battle +of wits and spies against Lanstron, came, two hours before +Westerling was due, the last of the staff except Westerling and his +personal aide had arrived Bouchard, with his iron-gray hair, bushy +eyebrows, strong, aquiline nose, and hawk-like eyes, his mouth +hidden by a bristly mustache, was lean and saturnine, and he was +loyal. No jealous thought entered his mind at having to serve a man +younger than himself. He did not serve a personality; he served a +chief of staff and a profession. The score of words which escaped +him as he looked over the arrangements were all of directing +criticism and bitten off sharply, as if he regretted that he had to +waste breath in communicating even a thought.</p> +<p>"I tell nothing, but you tell me everything!" said Bouchard's +hawk eyes. He was old-fashioned; he looked his part, which was one +of the many points of difference between him and Lanstron as a +chief of intelligence.</p> +<p>After he had gone through the house he went for a flyspecking +tour of the grounds, where he came upon a private of the Grays on +crutches. With rest and good food the tiny hole in Hugo's leg from +the merciful small-calibre bullet had healed rapidly. Confinement +was irksome on a sunny day. He had grown strong enough in spirit to +face his fate, whatever it might be, and in the absence of the +watchful coachman he had risked the delight of a convalescent's +adventure in the open, clad in his uniform, the only clothes he +had. Bouchard saw instantly that this private did not wear the +insignia of staff service.</p> +<p>"What are you doing here?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Getting well of a wound," answered Hugo, looking frankly into +the hawk eyes.</p> +<p>"Evidently!" said Bouchard, who was always irritated when told +what he could see for himself. "Why aren't you at a hospital?"</p> +<p>"I was not wanted there!" said Hugo.</p> +<p>"What! what!" But Bouchard had wasted two words. "Your name and +regiment?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Hugo Mallin, of the 128th," replied Hugo.</p> +<p>"Uh-h!" Bouchard's pigeonhole memory had retained the name. +"Charge—mutiny under fire; anarchism!" he went on, chopping +out the words as if they were chips from a piece of granite. "Well, +you have not escaped trial by hiding."</p> +<p>"I did not flatter myself that with one leg against a whole army +I had much chance, sir!" Hugo replied respectfully.</p> +<p>"Uh-h!" The hawk eyes flashed their disapproval of such +controversial freedom of language from a private. Had he had his +way he would have hanged Hugo to the nearest tree; for Bouchard had +truly a mediæval soul.</p> +<p>But Hugo's case was so extraordinary that it had reached +Westerling's ears, and Bouchard knew that Westerling wished to see +Hugo when he was apprehended. It was not for Bouchard to consider +this desire of a chief of staff to deal with the case of a private +in person as singular. No request of the chief of staff was +singular to him. It became a matter of natural law. He called to +one of the staff guards who was pacing back and forth near by.</p> +<p>"Take this man in charge and watch him sharply until General +Westerling sends for him!"</p> +<p>"And you will get justice from General Westerling!" It was +Marta's voice. In approaching she had unavoidably overheard part of +the conversation. "Justice is his first characteristic!" she added +as the hawk eyes turned their scrutiny into hers, which were calm +and smiling.</p> +<p>Hugo had not seen Marta since he had been carried to the +coachman's quarters. Minna had visited him frequently, bearing +inquiries from her mistress as well as custards. He had looked +forward to a talk with Marta as a kindred spirit, yet it was +difficult for him to reconcile the woman speaking now with the +woman who had kissed him on the forehead. But he said nothing as he +was marched away.</p> +<p>"Miss Galland!" exclaimed Bouchard in a way that said he knew +her story. "Yes, that little monkey can depend on more justice than +he deserves. The unanswerable evidence is on the chief of staff's +desk awaiting his arrival."</p> +<p>Bouchard's hawk eyes probed hers for an instant longer and +seemed to find nothing to call further curiosity; then he lifted +his cap and proceeded with his tour of inspection.</p> +<p>Marta smiled thoughtfully as she watched his receding figure, +while her eyelashes narrowed and she inclined her head with a nod +before she moved away in the direction of the tower. There was +almost complete silence along the front. Since yesterday's action, +which had checked the guns commanding the range of the house, there +had been little firing. She guessed that the lull was only a recess +of preparation for the grand attack on the first line of permanent +defence, and that probably this would follow Westerling's arrival. +He was due at four o'clock and he would be characteristically +prompt to the minute.</p> +<p>"It must not be! Hugo Mallin is too fine a spirit to be +sacrificed. I'll go on my knees, if need be, to Westerling," Marta +was thinking as she paced back and forth in her room. On her knees +to him! She stopped short, struck in revolt with a memory of the +way he had looked at her once as she sat across the tea-table from +him in the hotel reception-room. "No, I could not endure that +except as a last resort. If ever there were a time to use all my +wits it is now—to save Hugo Mallin, the one soldier who acted +out the principles which I taught my children!"</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXXII' id="XXXII"></a> +<h2>XXXII</h2> +<h3>TEA ON THE VERANDA AGAIN</h3> +<br> +<p>As it lacked one minute to four when Hedworth Westerling, chief +of staff in name as well as power now, alighted from the gray +automobile that turned in at the Galland drive, the chauffeur +thought well enough of himself to forget the crush of supplies and +ambulances that had delayed His Excellency's car for at least +ninety seconds in the main street of the town. Though His +Excellency had not occupied his new headquarters as soon as he +expected, this could have no influence on results. If he had lost +fifty thousand men on the first two days and two hundred thousand +since the war had begun, should he allow this to disturb his +well-being of body or mind? His well-being of body and mind meant +the ultimate saving of lives.</p> +<p>The Grays were winning; this alone counted in the present. They +would continue to win; this alone counted in the future. They had +won by crowding in reserves till the positions attacked yielded to +superior strength. Thus they would continue to win until the last +positions had yielded.</p> +<p>Five million mothers' sons against three million mothers' sons! +Five to three pounds of flesh! Five to three ounces of blood! With +equal skill, superior strength must always tell. Westerling and his +staff were responsible for the skill. If their minds would work +better for it, the nation could well afford to feed them on +nightingales' tongues.</p> +<p>Confidence is the handmaiden of skill. Confidence is the edge on +the sword; confidence brings the final charge that wins the +redoubt. Confidence was reflected in Westerling's bearing and in +his smile of command as he passed through the staff rooms, Turcas +and Bouchard in his train, with tacit approval of the arrangements. +Finally, Turcas, now vice-chief of staff, and the other chiefs +awaited his pleasure in the library, which was to be his sanctum. +On the massive seventeenth-century desk lay a number of reports and +suggestions. Westerling ran through them with accustomed swiftness +of sifting and then turned to his personal aide.</p> +<p>"Tell François that I will have tea on the veranda."</p> +<p>From the fact that he took with him the papers that he had laid +aside, subordinate generals, with the gift of unspoken directions +which is a part of their profession, understood that he meant to go +over the subjects requiring special attention while he had tea.</p> +<p>"Everything is going well—well!" he added in a way that +said that everything must be if he said so and that he knew how to +make everything go well. "And we shall be up pretty late to-night. +Any one who feels the need had better take a nap"—the +implication being that he did not.</p> +<p>"Well!" ran the unspoken communication of confidence through the +staff. So well that His Excellency was calmly taking tea on the +veranda! For the indefatigable Turcas the detail; for Westerling +the front of Jove.</p> +<p>"Well!" The thrill of the word was with him in a flight of +sentiment as he stood on that veranda where a certain prophecy had +been made to a young colonel. Sight of the rippling folds of the +flag of his country on the outskirts of the town prolonged the +thrill. His eyes swept the pale horizon of the distances of plain +and Mountain and lowered to the garden. Above the second terrace he +saw a crown of woman's hair—hair of a jet abundance, radiant +in the sunlight and shading a face that brought familiar +completeness to the scene.</p> +<p>He had told Marta only two weeks ago that he should see her +again if war came; and war had come. With the inviting prospect of +a few holiday moments in which to continue the interview that had +been abruptly concluded in a hotel reception-room, he started down +the terrace steps. Their glances met where the second terrace path +ended at the second terrace flight; hers shot with a beam of +restrained and questioning good humor that spoke at least a truce +to the invader.</p> +<p>"You called sooner than I expected," she said in a note of +equivocal pleasantry.</p> +<p>"Or I," he rejoined with a shade of triumph, the politest of +triumph. He was a step above her, her head on a level with the +pocket of his blouse. His square shoulders, commanding height, and +military erectness were thus emphasized, as was her own feminine +slightness.</p> +<p>"I want to thank you," she said. "As becomes a soldier, your +forethought was expressed in action. It was the promptness of the +men you sent to look after the garden which saved the uprooted +plants before they were past recovery."</p> +<p>"I wished it for your sake and somewhat for my own sake to be +the same that it was in the days when I used to call," he said +graciously. "Tea was from four to five, do you remember? Will you +join me? I have just ordered it."</p> +<p>A generous, pleasant conqueror, this! No one knew better than +Westerling how to be one when he chose. He was something of an +actor. Leaders of men of his type usually are.</p> +<p>"Why, yes. Very gladly!" she assented with no undue cordiality +and no undue constraint, quite as if there were no war.</p> +<p>"It was the Browns who cut the lindens?" he suggested +significantly.</p> +<p>"They said that it was necessary as part of the defence," she +replied. "We shall plant new ones and have the pleasure of watching +them grow."</p> +<p>Neutrality could not be better impersonated he thought, than in +the even cleaving of her lips over the words. They seemed to say +that a storm had come and gone and a new set of masters had taken +the place of the old. As they approached the veranda +François was placing the tea things.</p> +<p>"Quite the same! That was your chair, as I remember," said +Westerling after indicating to François that he might go, +"and this was mine."</p> +<p>But the teapot was not Mrs. Galland's—it belonged to the +staff.</p> +<p>"This is different," observed Marta, touching her finger-tip to +the coat of arms of the Grays on the side of a cup.</p> +<p>"Yes, my own field kit," he answered, thinking that the novelty +of tea from a soldier's service had appealed to her; for she was +smiling.</p> +<p>"So, you being the host and I the guest now, why, you pour!" she +said. There was a touch of brittleness in her tone—of +half-teasing, half-serious brittleness.</p> +<p>"Oh, no, no!" he protested laughingly, and found her glance +flashing through her brows holding him fast in an indefinable +challenge.</p> +<p>"I shall pour when you do us the honor to come to tea at the +gardener's quarters in the tower," she said.</p> +<p>"No, no!" he objected. "The tea conditions are the same as +before."</p> +<p>He was earnest for his point. It would please his masculine +fancy to watch those firm, small fingers pausing over the cup +before the plunge of a lump of sugar stirred the miniature ocean in +waves; to watch the firm little hand in its grip of the handle of +the pot.</p> +<p>"Conditions the same as before?" She laughed softly. "How can +they be in my thoughts or yours?" she asked with a sudden show of +seriousness.</p> +<p>"We did turn you out of house and home—I understand!" he +exclaimed apologetically. "And that is the symbol of it to you!" He +indicated the coat of arms.</p> +<p>"The symbol of the conqueror, isn't it?" he asked playfully, for +in the company of women it pleased him to be playful.</p> +<p>"Conqueror? It's a big word!" she mused. "I hadn't thought of it +in connection with pouring tea"—which might be another way of +saying that she had just been thinking of it very hard and might be +trying to find whether it had a pleasant or an unpleasant side. +Clearly, here was a Marta different from any yet precipitated by +the alchemy of war.</p> +<p>The resourceful variety of her! Oh, it was like the old days! It +made him feel young, as young as when he had been a colonel +commanding the garrison on the other side of the white posts. She +had intelligence, yet was at the same time distinctly feminine, +with the gift of as much talk about who should pour tea as about +how to storm a redoubt. She did not carry her mental wares on her +sleeve. She flashed them in a way that prompted curiosity as to the +next exhibit. He had sought primarily, selfishly, to be entertained +at tea, and he was being entertained. To want to win was his +nature. He understood, too, that she wanted to win. He liked that +quality in her the more because it heightened the valve of victory +for him.</p> +<p>"Then, if you don't think of it in connection with pouring tea, +let me tell you what I think of when I sit on this veranda. I think +of you as hostess. You refuse to play the part!" he exclaimed with +that persistence, softened a little, perhaps, yet suggestive of the +quality characterized by the firm jaw and still eyes, which won his +point at staff councils. Again he was conscious of one of her +sweeping glances of appraisal, with just a glint of admiration and +even approval tucked away in the recesses of her smile.</p> +<p>"Suppose we compromise," she suggested thoughtfully, with the +gravity of one making a great concession. "Suppose you do the heavy +work, and pour, and I drop the sugar in the cups."</p> +<p>But Westerling always used a half concession as a lever to gain +a full concession.</p> +<p>"I'd really better do it all—act out the host and the +conqueror!" he declared. "One can't compromise principles."</p> +<p>"Oh! Why?" She was distinctly interested, leaning nearer to him +and playing a tattoo with one set of fingers on the back of the +other hand.</p> +<p>"Anything except your doing all the honors leaves me in the same +invidious position," he answered. "It compounds my felony. It shows +that you do think that we failed by our conduct to show respect for +your property. It leaves me feeling that you think that I do not +regard this as your veranda, your garden, your home, sacred by more +than the laws of war—by an old friendship!"</p> +<p>He made his appeal finely, as he well knew how to do. A certain +magnetic eloquence that went well with his handsome face and sturdy +bearing had been his most successful asset in making him chief of +staff.</p> +<p>The tattoo of her fingers died down while she listened to his +final, serious reasons about a subject that became peculiarly +significant; and her brows lifted, her eyes opened in the surprise +of one who gets a sudden new angle of light.</p> +<p>"You put it very well. In that case—" she said, and his +glance and hers dropped, his to the capable hand on the handle of +the teapot, hers into the cup. "With the honors of war and officers +permitted to retain their side-arms?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Yes; oh, yes!" he answered happily.</p> +<p>She smiled her acknowledgment with just that self-respect of +capitulation which flatters the victor with the thought that he has +overcome no mean opponent—the highest form of compliment +known to the guild of courtiers.</p> +<p>He was susceptible to it and, in turn, to the curiosity about +her that had remained unsatisfied at the end of their talk in the +hotel. Her own veranda was the natural, familiar place to judge the +work of time in those character-forming years from seventeen to +twenty-seven. She was not like what she had been in the artificial +surroundings of a fortnight ago. She filled the eye and the mind +now in the well-knit suppleness of figure and the finished maturity +of features which bore the mark of inner growth of knowledge of +life. She was not a species of intellectual exotic, as he had +feared, too baffling to allow the male intellect to feel +comfortable, but very much, as he noted discriminatingly, a woman +in all the physical freshness of a woman in her prime.</p> +<p>"Just like the old days, isn't it?" he exclaimed with his first +sip, convinced that the officers' commissary supplied excellent tea +in the field.</p> +<p>"Yes, for the moment—if we forget the war!" she replied, +and looked away, preoccupied, toward the landscape.</p> +<p>If we forget the war! She bore on the words rather grimly. The +change that he had noted between the Marta of the hotel +reception-room and the Marta of the moment was not altogether the +work of ten years. It had developed since she was in the capital. +In these three weeks war had been brought to her door. She had been +under heavy fire. Yet this subject of the war was the one which he, +as an invader, considered himself bound to avoid.</p> +<p>"We do forget it at tea, don't we?" he asked.</p> +<p>"At least we need not speak of it!" she replied.</p> +<p>Safely, then, at first, their conversation ran not on the +present but on an intimate past, free of any possible bumpers. The +train of memories once started, she herself gave it speed if it +stopped at a way station; cargo if it went empty. Prone to avoid +recollections that made him feel old—to feel old was to be +out of date in his profession—-he found these livening with +the youth of thirty-two and gratifying as youth's dreams become +reality. Feeling as young as a colonel, he had the consciousness of +being chief of staff. This was enough to make any soldier enjoy the +place and the company and to drink his tea slowly so as to prolong +the recess from duty. His second cup growing cold, he was reminded +of the value of time, and with a playfully reproachful look at +Marta he put a warning finger of conscience on the papers that lay +beside the bread plate.</p> +<p>"There's work—always work for a chief!" he declared. +"I—"</p> +<p>Marta was quick to act on the hint. Her hands flew to the arms +of her chair as she spoke.</p> +<p>"There's always the garden for me! But first—" Yes, first +there was poor Hugo.</p> +<p>Westerling flushed guiltily that she should have taken his words +as a hint, which was only half of his emotion. The other half shot +out his hand in a restraining, companionable touch on her forearm, +while his eyes—his calculating gray eyes—glinted a +youthful entreaty.</p> +<p>"Please! I didn't finish my sentence!" he begged. "You remember +that often I used to wait after tea until the sunset—"</p> +<p>"And reached your quarters late for dinner, I also remember!" +she put in. But she remained in the same position, his finger-tips +on her arm, her hands holding her body free of the chair. "That is, +when you did not stay to dinner!" she added.</p> +<p>"I am staying to-night. I was going to ask if you wouldn't +remain on the veranda while I go over these papers. It—it +would be very cosey and pleasant."</p> +<p>One of these papers, she knew, must be the evidence against Hugo +Mallin. She preferred not to make a direct appeal but to have +Westerling bring up the subject himself. His smile and the look +with which he regarded her spoke his appreciation of the picture +she made and his fear of losing it. Very cosey and pleasant, yes, +the company of a prophetess, with a ray of sunlight making her hair +an aurora of flashing bronze overtopping a brown face, the eyes +holding answers to an increasing number of unasked questions about +the new forces that he had found in her.</p> +<p>"Why, yes," she agreed with evident pleasure, for she was +thinking of Hugo.</p> +<p>Turcas now came, in answer to Westerling's ring. The orders and +suggestions on the table seemed to be the product of this lath of a +man, the vice-chief, but a lath of steel, not wood, who appeared a +runner trained for a race of intellects in the scratch class. One +by one, almost perfunctorily, Westerling gave his assent as he +passed the papers to Turcas; while Turcas's dry voice, coming from +between a narrow opening of the thin lips, gave his reasons with a +rapid-firer's precision in answer to his chief's inquiries.</p> +<p>With each order somewhere along that frontier some unit of a +great organism would respond. The reserves from this position would +be transferred to that; such a position would be felt out before +dark by a reconnaissance in force, however costly; the rapid-firers +of the 19th Division would be transferred to the 20th; despite the +37th Brigade's losses, it would still form the advance; General +So-and-So would be superseded after his failure of yesterday; +Colonel So-and-So would take his place as acting major-general; +more care must be exercised in recommendations for bronze crosses, +lest their value so depreciate that officers and men would lack +incentive to win them.</p> +<p>Marta was having a look behind the scenes at the fountainhead of +great events. Power! power! The absolute power of the soldier in +the saddle, with premier and government and all the institutions of +peace only a dim background for the processes of war! Opposite her +was a man who could make and unmake not only generals but even the +destinies of peoples. By every sign he enjoyed his power for its +own sake. There must be a chief of the five millions, which were as +a moving forest of destruction, and here was the chief, his +strength reflected in the strong muscles of his short neck as he +turned his head to listen to Turcas. Marta recalled the contrast +between Westerling and Lanstron as they faced each other after the +wreck of the aeroplane ten years ago: the iron invincibility of the +elder's sturdy, mature figure and the alert, high-strung +invincibility of the slighter figure of the younger man.</p> +<p>"The evidence you asked for in that Mallin mutiny case," said +Turcas, indicating the only remaining paper.</p> +<p>"Yes, I want to go into that—it's a question of policy," +said Westerling.</p> +<p>He had taken up the paper thoughtfully after Turcas withdrew, +when he looked up to Marta in answer to a movement in her chair. +She had bent forward in a pose that freed her figure from the +chair-back in an outline of suppleness and firmness; her lips were +parted, showing a faint line of the white of her teeth, and he +caught her gazing at him in a kind of wondering admiration. But she +dropped her eyelids instantly and said deliberately, less to him +than to herself:</p> +<p>"You have the gift!"</p> +<p>No tea-table flattery that, he knew; only the reflection of a +fact whose existence had been borne in on her by observation.</p> +<p>"The gift? How?" he inquired, speaking to the fringe of hair +that half hid her lowered face.</p> +<p>She looked up, smiling brightly.</p> +<p>"You don't know what gift! Not the pianist's! Not the poet's!" +(Oh, to save Hugo! The method she had chosen to save him, alien to +all her impulses, born of the war's stress on her mind, seemed the +wise one in view of her knowledge of the man before her) "Why, of +course, the supreme gift of command! The thing that made you chief +of staff! And the war goes well for you, doesn't it?"</p> +<p>Delicious morsel, this, to a connoisseur in compliments! He +tasted it with the same self-satisfied smile that he had her first +prophecy. To her who had then voiced a secret he had shared with no +one, as his chest swelled with a full breath, he bared another in +the delight of the impression he had made on her.</p> +<p>"Yes, as you foresaw—as I planned!" he said. "Yes, I +planned all, step by step, till I was chief of staff and ready. I +convinced the premier that it was time to strike and I chose the +hour to strike; for Bodlapoo was only a convenient excuse for the +last of all the steps"</p> +<p>The subjective enjoyment of the declaration kept him from any +keen notice of the effect of his words. Lanny was right. It had +been a war of deliberate conquest; a war to gratify personal +ambition. All her life Marta would be able to live over again the +feelings of this moment. It was as if she were frozen, all except +brain and nerves, which were on fire, while the rigidity of ice +kept her from springing from her chair in contempt and horror. She +would always wonder how the bonds of her purpose to save Hugo held +her tongue But still another purpose came on the wings of +diabolical temptation which would pit the art of woman against the +power of a man who set millions against millions in slaughter to +gratify personal ambition. She was thankful that she was looking +down as she spoke, for she could not bring herself to another +compliment. Her throat was too chilled for that yet.</p> +<p>"The one way to end the feud between the two nations was a war +that would mean permanent peace," he explained, seeing how quiet +she was and realizing, with a recollection of her children's oath, +that he had gone a little too far. He wanted to retain her +admiration. It had become as precious to him as a new delicacy to +Lucullus.</p> +<p>"Yes, I understand," she managed to murmur; then she was able to +look up. "It's all so immense!" she added. "And you have yet +another paper there?" she said with a little gesture that might +have been taken as the expression of a hope that she was not +overstaying her welcome.</p> +<p>"This is very interesting," he said, watching her narrowly now, +"the case of a private, one Hugo Mallin, who refused to fight +because he was against war on principle. Four charges: assault on a +fellow soldier, cowardice, treason, and insubordination under +fire."</p> +<p>"Enough, I should say!" said Marta in a low tone.</p> +<p>"A question of which one to press—of an example," +continued Westerling, reading the full official statement for the +first time.</p> +<p>"What is the punishment?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Why, of course, death!" he replied, somewhat absently, in +preoccupation. "Extraordinary! And they have located him, it seems +He is here at headquarters!"</p> +<p>"Yes; certainly," Marta said. "We found him under a tree, +deserted and wounded, labelled coward, and we cared for him."</p> +<p>"Indeed!" exclaimed Westerling. "He must have appealed strongly +to your sympathies."</p> +<p>There was no sharpness in the words, but he had lapsed from the +personal to the official manner.</p> +<p>"To my sense of humanity!" Her reply was made in much the same +tone as his remark, where he had expected emotion, even passion. +More than ever was he certain that she had undergone some revealing +experience since he had seen her in the capital. "Yes, to any one's +sense of humanity—a wounded, thirsty man in a fever!" There +came, with a swift and mellowing charm, the look of a fervent and +exalted tenderness and the pulse-arresting quiver of intensity that +had swept over her at her first sight of Hugo under the tree. "I +know that he was not a coward in one sense," she added, "for I saw +him make the assault named in the first charge."</p> +<p>She proceeded with the story of what she had witnessed in the +dining-room. There was no appeal on Hugo's account. Appraising the +qualities of the Marta of the moment in contrast with the Marta of +seventeen and the Marta of three weeks ago, Westerling was +significantly conscious of her attitude of impartiality, free of +any attempt at feminine influence, and of her evident desire to +help him with the facts that she knew.</p> +<p>"The charge of assault is only incidental," said Westerling. +"But Mallin was in the right about his comrades entering the house; +right about the destruction of property. It is our business to +protect property, not only as a principle but as a matter of +policy. We do not desire to make the population of the country we +occupy unnecessarily hostile."</p> +<p>"I judged that from your kindness in repairing the damage done +to ours," she assured him, and added happily: "Though I don't +suppose that you go so far in most cases as to set uprooted plants +back in their beds."</p> +<p>"No; that is a refinement, perhaps," he answered, laughing. She +was not only more agreeable but also more sane than at the hotel. +He liked the idea of continuing to despatch his work while +retaining her company. "I must have a talk with Mallin," he said. +"I must settle his case so that if similar cases arise subordinates +will know what to do without consulting me. Would you mind if I +sent for him?" He reached for the bell to call an orderly.</p> +<p>"Yes, I should like to hear what he says to you and what you say +to him," she confessed with unfeigned interest, which brought a +suggestion that he was to be put on trial before her at the same +time as Mallin was on trial before Westerling. His fingers paused +on the bell head without pressure. "I told him that you were a just +man," she remarked, "that any one would be certain of justice from +you."</p> +<p>He rang the bell; and after he had sent for Mallin, warming +under the compliment of her last remark, he dared a reconnaissance +along the line of inquiry which he had wanted to undertake from the +first.</p> +<p>"Mallin's ideas about war seem to be a great deal like your +own," he hinted casually.</p> +<p>"As I expressed them at the hotel, you mean!" she exclaimed. +"That seems ages ago—ages!" The perplexity and indecision +that, in a space of silence, brooded in the depths of her eyes came +to the surface in wavering lights. "Yes, ages! ages!" The wavering +lights grew dim with a kind of horror and she looked away fixedly +at a given point.</p> +<p>He was conscious of a thrill; the thrill that always presaged +victory for him. He realized her evident distress; he guessed that +terrible pictures were moving before her vision, and he changed the +subject.</p> +<p>"I know how revolting it must have been to have seen those +soldiers wantonly smashing your chandelier and gloating over their +mischief," he said. "Really, the Captain was to blame for letting +his men get out of hand. He seems not to have been a competent man. +We can train and train an officer, but when war comes—well, +no amount of training will supply a certain quality that must be +inborn—the quality of command."</p> +<p>"Such as Dellarme had!" she exclaimed absently, under her +breath.</p> +<p>She had forgotten her part and Westerling's presence. The given +point of her gaze was exactly where Dellarme lay when he died. She +was unconsciously smiling in the way that he had smiled. But to +Westerling it seemed that she was smiling at space. He was puzzled; +his perception piqued.</p> +<p>"Who was Dellarme?" he was bound to ask.</p> +<p>"The officer in command of the company of infantry posted behind +the sand-bags in the yard—he was killed!" she answered, +turning her face toward Westerling without the smile, singularly +expressionless.</p> +<p>"Yes, he must have had the quality from the defence he made," +agreed Westerling, in the hearty tribute of a taxable soldier to a +capable soldier. So very well had that one small position been held +that every detail was graven on the mind of a chief of staff who +was supposed to leave details to his brigade commanders. It was he +himself who had ordered the final charge after the brigade +commander had advised delaying another attack until the redoubt +could be hammered to pieces by heavy guns brought up from the rear. +"But he had to go!" Westerling exclaimed doggedly; for he could not +resist this tribute, in turn, to his own success in making an +example for timid brigade commanders in the future by driving in +more reserves until the enemy yielded.</p> +<p>"Yes!" she agreed without any change in the set face and moody +eyes.</p> +<p>"You saw something of the defence?"</p> +<p>"Yes!" Marta replied in a way that aroused his imagination.</p> +<p>This, he recalled, had always been her gift. The slow-drawn +monosyllable was pregnant with revelations which his knowing mind +could readily supply. She had been in the midst of the fury of the +most tenacious fighting within a small space that the war had yet +to chronicle. She had been an intimate of the splendid desperation +of the Browns; known their thoughts and feelings. What a multitude +of impressions were stored in her sensitive mind, impressions +which, for the moment, seemed to benumb her! How she could make +them speak from her eyes and quiver from her very finger-tips when +she chose! He would yet hear her vivid account of all that she had +seen. It would be informatory—a reflection of the spirit of +the Browns. Her quietness itself was compelling in its latent +strength, and strength was the thing he most admired. More and more +questions winged themselves into his thoughts, while his next one +served the purpose of passing the time until Hugo came.</p> +<p>"There was a man out of uniform, in a gardener's garb, in charge +of the automatic," he remarked. "It was so puzzling that I heard of +it. You see, there is no limit to what a chief of staff may +know."</p> +<p>"Yes, our gardener," she replied.</p> +<p>"Your gardener! Why, how was that? Wasn't he in the reserves if +he were a Brown? Wasn't he called to the colors at the outbreak of +the war?"</p> +<p>In spite of himself the questions were somewhat sharp. They +seemed to take Marta by surprise, which, however, was +evanescent.</p> +<p>"I wonder!" she said, as interested as Westerling in the +suggestion. "Something a soldier would think of immediately and a +woman wouldn't. I know that we lost our gardener."</p> +<p>That was all. She did not attempt any further explanation or +enlarge on the subject, but let it go as an inquiry unexplained in +the course of conversation.</p> +<p>Had Westerling been inclined to pursue it further he would have +been interrupted by the arrival of a figure with a bandaged leg and +head which came hobbling cheerfully around the corner of the house +on crutches, escorted by an infantryman. The guard saluted and +withdrew into the background. Hugo saluted and removed his cap and +looked at Westerling with the faintest turn of a smile on his lips, +which plainly spoke his quizzical appreciation of the fact that he +was in the presence of dazzling heights for a private.</p> +<p>Marta had a single glance from him—a glance of peculiar +inquiry and astonishment, sweeping over the tea things fairly into +her eyes. Then it was gone. He might have been the most dutiful and +respectful soldier of the five millions as he waited on the head of +the five millions to speak.</p> +<p>Westerling read the four charges. Then he asked the stereotyped +question:</p> +<p>"What have you to say to them?"</p> +<p>When he looked up from the paper he saw a face that was a mask, +a gentle, pleasant mask, and blue eyes looking quite steadily into +his own with a sort of well-established and dreamy fatalism.</p> +<p>"Nothing, sir," said Hugo respectfully.</p> +<p>Westerling frowned. Though a confession of guilt simplified +everything, perhaps he frowned to find no embarrassment in his +presence in the private; perhaps he apprehended impertinence in the +soft blue eyes.</p> +<p>"You know what that means—the charges sustained?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir!"</p> +<p>"And you have nothing to say?" Westerling's frown deepened. +There was an undercurrent of urgency in his tone. This mild +culprit, waiting for the wheels of justice to roll over him without +a protest, gave him no light as to a policy that should apply to +other cases. He resented, too, any suggestion of readiness for +martyrdom No man of power who is anything of a politician and not a +fool likes to make martyrs. "Nothing?" he repeated. "Nothing at all +in your own behalf?"</p> +<p>A faint expression appeared on the mask. So insistently could +Hugo's mask hold attention that Westerling noted even a slight, +thoughtful drawing down of the brow and one corner of the mouth. He +could not conceive that the laws of gravity could be upset or that +a private would undertake to have fun at the expense of a chief of +staff.</p> +<p>"Nothing, sir, unless I should make a long speech," he said. "Do +you want me to do that, sir?"</p> +<p>Westerling held his irritation in control and looked around at +Marta. He saw only wonder in her eyes as she intently regarded +Hugo, which was his own feeling, he suddenly realized.</p> +<p>"I have hardly time to listen to long speeches," he +remarked.</p> +<p>"I thought not, sir," replied Hugo, unmoved. "That is why I said +I had nothing to say. And in want of a long speech the best that I +could do to explain would be to ask you to read certain books."</p> +<p>An explosion of his breath in astonishment saved Westerling from +harsh expletives. For one thing, he was piqued. Though he would not +admit it even to himself, he had, perhaps, fancied the idea of +playing the gentle and patient dispenser of justice before Marta A +private on trial for the greatest of military crimes seraphically +advising a chief of staff to read books! There were not enough +words in the dictionary to rebuke the insubordination of such +conceit! The only way to look at the thing was as a kind of grim +jest. He retrieved his vexation with a laugh as he turned to +Marta.</p> +<p>She was smiling irresistibly, in concert with his own mood, as +she continued to regard Hugo. Hugo's mask was entirely for +Westerling. He did not seem to see Marta now, and through his mask +radiated the considerate understanding of one who can put himself +in another's place—which was Hugo's besetting fault or +virtue, as you choose. In short, the chief of staff had a feeling +that this private knew exactly what he, the chief of staff, was +thinking.</p> +<p>"Yes, I was certain, sir," said Hugo, "that you were too busy +either to listen to speeches or to read books. You have months of +hard work before you, sir."</p> +<p>His respectful "sirs" had the deference of youth to an elder; +otherwise, he was an equal in conversation with an equal. +Westerling still kept his temper, but the way that his under jaw +closed indicated that he had made up his mind.</p> +<p>"One charge is enough," he said in a businesslike fashion. "On +the firing-line you threw down your rifle. You refused to fight any +more. You said: 'Damn patriotism! I'm through!' Is that so?"</p> +<p>A slight flush shot into Hugo's cheeks; he twisted his shoulder +on his crutch as if he had a twinge of pain, but his face did not +change its expression.</p> +<p>"No, sir. I did not say: 'Damn patriotism!' I'm afraid Captain +Fracasse was out of temper when he reported that. I didn't say, +'Damn patriotism!' because I did not think that then and do not +now. Would you care to have my recollection of what I said?"</p> +<p>"Yes!" breathed Marta with so intent an emphasis that Westerling +turned sharply, only to find her smiling at him. Her smile said +that she thought that Hugo's story would be interesting.</p> +<p>"Yes; go ahead!" said Westerling.</p> +<p>"I think that I can recall my words very accurately, sir," Hugo +proceeded. "They were important to me. I was the individual most +affected in the matter. I said: 'I am through. I will not murder my +fellowmen who have done me no wrong. I cannot, I will not +kill!'"</p> +<p>"That is all?" queried Westerling, again looking at Marta, this +time covertly, while he played with a teaspoon.</p> +<p>Brooding uncertainty had flooded the sparkle out of her eyes. +She was statue-like in her stillness, her breaths impalpable in +their softness. But the points of her knuckles were ghostly, sharp +spots on her tightly clenched hands. All that Westerling could tell +was that she was thinking, and thinking hard. There was a space of +silence broken only by the movement of the teaspoon. Hugo was the +first to speak.</p> +<p>"I believe in patriotism, sir. That means love of country. I +love my country," he said slowly.</p> +<p>A preachment of patriotism from this nonchalant private was a +straw too much for Westerling's patience. He made a nervous +gesture—a distinctly nervous one as he dropped the teaspoon. +He would have an end of nonsense.</p> +<p>"You will answer questions!" he said. "First, you dropped your +rifle?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"You refused to fight?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"You know the penalty for this?"</p> +<p>Hugo inclined his head. He was silent.</p> +<p>"Shot for treason—and immediately!" Westerling went on, +irritated at the man's complaisance. Then he bit his lip. This was +harsh talk before Marta. He expected to hear her utter some sort of +protest against such cruelty, and instead saw that her face +remained calm and that there was nothing but wonder in her eyes. +She knew how to wait.</p> +<p>"Then, sir," said Hugo, speaking, evidently, because he was +expected to say something, "I suppose, of course, that I shall be +shot. But"—he was smiling in the way that he would when he +brought a "good one" to the head in the barracks—"but it will +not be necessary to do it more than once, will it? To tell you the +truth, I had not counted on being shot more than once."</p> +<p>Westerling was like a man who had lunged a blow at an object and +struck only air.</p> +<p>"I said that he was not a coward," Marta remarked quietly. There +was nothing in her manner to imply that she was defending Hugo. She +seemed to be incidentally justifying a previous observation of her +own.</p> +<p>A smile in face of death! Westerling's prayer was for countless +masses of infantry who would smile in face of death and do his +bidding. He could not resist a soldier's admiration, which, +however, he would not permit to take the form of words. The form +which it took was a sharp thrust of his fist into the hollow of his +hand. He had, too, a sense of defeat which was uppermost as he +spoke—a defeat that he was bound to retrieve.</p> +<p>"You have a home, a father, and a mother?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"And perhaps a sweetheart?" Westerling proceeded.</p> +<p>Hugo unmistakably flushed.</p> +<p>"I don't think sir, that official statistics require an answer +to that question. I"—and again that confounded smile, as +Westerling was beginning to regard it—"I trust, sir, that I +shall not have to be shot more than once if we do not bring any one +not yet officially of my family into the affair."</p> +<p>"You do not seem to like life," Westerling observed.</p> +<p>"I love life!" answered Hugo earnestly. "I try to get something +out of every minute of it; if nothing particular, at least the +miracle of living and breathing and thinking and +seeing—seeing such beautiful scenes as this." He looked away +toward the glorious landscape. It was the first time that he had +lifted the steady gaze of those studious blue eyes from Westerling, +but directly they were back on duty. "It is because I love life," +he continued, "and think that everybody else must love life, that I +do not want to kill. Because I love my country I know that others +love their country, and I want them to keep their country."</p> +<p>Marta's glance had followed Hugo's into the distance. It still +rested there intently. To Westerling she showed only a profile, +with the shadow of the porch between them and the golden light of +receding day in the background: a golden light on a silhouette of +ivory, a silhouette that you might find without meaning or so full +of meaning as to hold an observer in a quandary as to what she was +thinking or whether or not she was thinking at all.</p> +<p>Westerling had the baffled consciousness of fencing with a +culprit at the bar who had turned adversary. It was the visionary's +white logic of the blue dome against the soldier's material logic +of <i>x</i> equals initial velocity. Here was an incomprehensible +mortal who loved life and yet was ready to die for love of life. +Here was love of country that refused to serve country.</p> +<p>All a pose, a clever bit of acting to play on his feelings +through the presence of a woman, Westerling concluded. And Marta +was still looking at the landscape. Her mind seemed withdrawn from +the veranda. Only her body remained. All the impulse of +Westerling's military instinct and training, rebelling at an +abstract ethical controversy with a private about book heresies +that belonged under the censor's ban, called for the word of +authority from the apex of the pyramid to put an end to talk with +an atom at the base. But that profile—that serene ivory in +the golden light, so unlike the Marta of the hotel +reception-room—was compellingly present though her mind were +absent. It suggested loss of temper as the supreme weakness. He had +permitted a controversy. He must argue his man down; he must find +his adversary's weak point.</p> +<p>"Your province is one of the most patriotic," he said. "Its +people are of the purest blood of our race. They have always been +loyal. They have always fought determinedly. To no people would a +traitor be so abhorrent. Do you want the distinction of being a +traitor—one lone traitor in your loyal province?"</p> +<p>Hugo was visibly affected. The twisted corner of his mouth +quivered.</p> +<p>"I had thought of that, too, sir," he said.</p> +<p>"Suppose your father and mother knew that your comrades had +labelled you a coward before the whole army; that they had thought +you worthy only of kicks and to be left to die by the roadside. +Suppose that your father and mother knew that the story of Hugo +Mallin, coward and traitor, who threw down his rifle under fire is +being told throughout the land—as I shall have it +told—until your name is a symbol for cowardice and treason. +How would your father and mother feel?"</p> +<p>There was an unsteady movement of Hugo's body on his crutches. +He swallowed hard, moistening dry lips; and the mobility of feature +that could change the mask into the illumination of varied emotions +spoke horror and asked for pity.</p> +<p>"I—I—as a matter of mercy, when I have admitted the +charge, I ask you not to bear on that, sir!" he stammered. Then the +crutches creaked with a stronger grip of his hands and a stiffening +of his body as he mastered his feelings. The mask recovered its +own, even to the drawing down of the corner of the mouth. "I have +reasoned that all out, sir," he went on. "It was the thing which +kept me from throwing down my rifle before we made our first +charge. I have written a letter to my father and mother."</p> +<p>Marta had been so engrossed in the landscape that she seemed not +to have been listening. It was her voice, come out of the distance, +that asked, without any inflection except that of tense +curiosity:</p> +<p>"May we see the letter?"</p> +<p>As she turned her eyes looked directly into Hugo's, their gaze +locked, as it were: hers that of a simple request, his that of +puzzled, unsatisfied scrutiny.</p> +<p>"May we?" she repeated to Westerling, looking now frankly at +him, "though I don't know as it is in keeping with the situation or +with your wishes to grant the whim of a woman. But you see," she +added smiling, "that is what comes of having a woman present."</p> +<p>If she had any double meaning Westerling could not find it in +her eyes.</p> +<p>"I am willing," said Hugo. "Indeed, I shall be very glad to have +my side heard."</p> +<p>"Yes, let us see the letter," assented Westerling; for he, too, +was curious.</p> +<p>When Hugo had given it to Westerling and he saw that it was not +very long, he began reading aloud:</p> +<p>"'I've kept very well and cheerful and I'm cheerful now,'" the +letter began. "'Please always think of me as cheerful. Everybody in +our company has fought well; just as bravely as our forefathers did +in the wars of their day.'"</p> +<p>"Which hardly agrees with your ideas," observed Westerling.</p> +<p>"Exactly, sir. Men should be brave for their convictions," +answered Hugo. "And, as you said, the men of our province are loyal +to the old ideas. They believe they ought to fight the Browns."</p> +<p>Then followed a brief, intimate, appealing story of how each of +his dead comrades had fallen.</p> +<p>"'You can read these to their folks at home, if you want to. +They might like to know.'"</p> +<p>Irresistibly there crept into Westerling's face at these +recitals of soldierly courage the satisfaction of the commander +with the spirit of his men. Here was proof of the valor of the +units of his army.</p> +<p>"'Now I have something to tell you which will hurt you very +much,'" Westerling read on, "'but you must recollect that I was +always regarded as a little queer. And I don't think people will +hold you to blame on my account. I hope they will sympathize with +you for having such a son. You will have heard the story from the +men of the company, but I also want to tell it to you....'"</p> +<p>After it was told the letter proceeded:</p> +<p>"'I feel that I was a coward up to the moment that everybody +else was calling me a coward. Then I felt free and happy, as if I +had been true to myself. I felt that I had been just as much in the +wrong as if we should break into our neighbor's house and take his +property because we were stronger than he. How would you feel if a +neighbor entered your house and made it his own? You would call in +the police. But what if there were no police? Would that make it +right?'"</p> +<p>Marta's own opinions! The spirit of her children's prayer! Head +bent, hands clasped, she was simply listening.</p> +<p>"'Would it be cowardice if one of the neighbor's family said, "I +will not take any further part in this robbery!" when he saw you, +mother, weeping over you, father, as you lay dead after trying to +defend your house? When I was asked to fire at those running men it +was like standing on a neighbor's door-step and firing down the +street at my neighbors in flight. I could not do it. I could not do +it though twenty million men were doing the same thing. No, I could +not do it any more than you could commit murder, father. That is +all. Perhaps when those who survive from my company come home, +after they have been beaten as they will be—'"</p> +<p>"What!" Westerling exploded.</p> +<p>All the force of his being had to take umbrage at this. Beaten! +Marta saw the rigid, unyielding Westerling who had cried, "We shall +win!" when she made her second prophecy. But the comparison did not +occur to him. Nothing occurred to him but red anger, until the +first dart of reason warned him, a chief of staff, that a private +had made him completely lose his temper. He recovered his poise +with a laugh and without even glancing at Marta.</p> +<p>"Well, we might as well hear the reasons for your expert +opinion," he said, his satire a trifle hoarse after the strain of +his emotion.</p> +<p>"Because the Browns fight for their homes!" answered Hugo "When +the great crisis comes they have a reserve strength that we have +not: conscience, the intelligent conscience of this age that cannot +fool itself with false enthusiasm continually. They are fighting as +I should pray that I might fight if the Browns invaded our country; +as I might fight against a murderous burglar. For I will fight, +sir, I will fight with my face to the white posts, but not with my +back to them! The Browns have no more right to cross our frontier +than we have to cross theirs!"</p> +<p>There was a perceptible shudder on Marta's part, an abrupt, +tossing elevation of her head. She stared at the spot where +Dellarme had lain in the garden. Dellarme's smile was back on her +lips; it seemed graven there. Her eyes, which Westerling could not +see, were leaping flames.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid you will not have the chance," Westerling observed, +as he returned the letter to Hugo, its reading unfinished. "What if +every man held your views? What would become of the army and the +nation?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"Why, I think I have made that plain," replied Hugo. He appeared +no less weary than Westerling over continual beating of the air to +no purpose. "We should retreat to our own soil, where we +belong."</p> +<p>"And you are ready to be shot for that principle?"</p> +<p>The question was sharp and final.</p> +<p>"Yes, if being shot for what I did is dying for it—though +I prefer to live for it!" said Hugo, still without any pose. He +refused to play for a chapter in the future book of martyrs to +peace. This was the irritating thing about him to a soldier, who +deprecated all kinds of personal bravado and show as against the +efficiency of the modern military machine, when men were supposed +to respond to duty in the face of death as automatically as in any +business requiring team-work, with an every-day smile like Hugo's +on their lips.</p> +<p>"Then," Westerling began, and broke off abruptly. His eyes +sought Marta.</p> +<p>The affair seemed to have worn on her nerves also. There was a +distinctly appreciable effort at self-control in the slow way that +she turned her head. The flame in her eyes was suddenly suffused in +a liquid glance which slowly brightened with a suggestion.</p> +<p>"It is extraordinary!" she breathed. "Don't you think that the +blow on his head and the fever afterward has something to do with +it?"</p> +<p>Hugo answered for himself.</p> +<p>"My views are the same as they were before the blow and the act +that brought the blow!" he said, with a slight cast of the eye +toward Marta which intimated that he wanted no help from the +deserter of the principles which she had professed to him +previously.</p> +<p>She shuddered as if hurt, but only momentarily.</p> +<p>"Psychological, I suppose—psychological and irresponsible +abnormality!" she murmured, avoiding Hugo's look and bending her +own on Westerling persistently.</p> +<p>"Long words!" said Hugo. "Insanity is shorter."</p> +<p>But Westerling did not seem to hear. His thought was shaped by +the superb misery and sensitiveness in Marta's face. He had done +wrong to ask her to remain. Of course the scene had been painful to +her. She would not be herself if she wanted to see a man tried for +his life. He knew that views not unlike Hugo's were latent in many +minds lacking Hugo's initiative that would respond to the right +impulse. A way out occurred to him as inspiration, which pleased +his sense of craft. The press, which the premier reported was +irritated by his censorship—the press which must have +sensation, the traffic of its trade—should have a detailed +account of how one of our indomitable regiments placarded a private +as coward, proving thereby that the army was a unit of aggressive +zeal.</p> +<p>"You are alone—one man in a million in your ideas!" he +declared, with judicial gravity. "We shall postpone your trial and +leave public opinion to punish you. Your story will be given to the +press in full; your name will be a byword throughout the land, an +example, and while you are convalescing you will remain a prisoner. +When you are well we shall have another talk I may give you a +chance, for the sake of your father and mother and your sweetheart +and the good opinion of your neighbors, to redeem yourself."</p> +<p>"I had to tell you what I felt, sir," said Hugo. "Thank you for +letting me live, after you knew."</p> +<p>He saluted and turned away. Marta and Westerling watched him as +he hobbled around the corner of the house and in a heavy silence +listened to the crunch of his crutch tips on the gravel growing +fainter. Her lashes, those convenient curtains for hiding thought, +dropped as Westerling looked around; but he saw that her lips had +reddened and that she was drawing a long, deep, energizing breath. +When the lashes lifted, there was still wonder in her +eyes—wonder which had become definite tribute to him. The +assurance he wanted was that he had borne himself well, and he had +it.</p> +<p>"You kept your patience beautifully," she told him. "It seems to +me that you were both kind and wise."</p> +<p>"How I was to be merciful against the facts puzzled me," he +replied, "until you saved the day with your suggestion of +psychological irresponsibility."</p> +<p>"Then I helped? I really helped?"</p> +<p>"You did, decidedly! You—" There he broke off, for he +found himself speaking to her profile.</p> +<p>She had looked away in a sudden flight of abstraction, very far +away, where the lowering sun was stretching the shadows of the +foot-hills toward the white posts. Capes and pillars and +promontories of shadow there in the distance! Swinging, furry +finger-points of shadow from the tall hollyhocks in the garden +swaying with the breeze! The dark shade of the house's mass over +the yard!</p> +<p>It was time for him to be at his desk. But she seemed far from +any suggestion of going. She seemed to expect him to wait; +otherwise he might have concluded that she had forgotten his +presence. Yet were he to rustle a paper he knew that she would hear +it. Though she did not change her position in the chair, she +appeared subtly active in every fibre.</p> +<p>He found waiting easy, free as he was to watch the beauty of her +profile in the glory of the sunset. The superb thing about her was +that she always called for study. Her lips moved in sensitive +turns; her breast rose in soft billows with her breaths; the long, +flickering eyelashes ran outward from black to bronze and to +feather tips of gold. In time measured by the regular standard of +clock ticks, which in the brain may either race madly or drag +mercilessly, she was not long silent. When she spoke she' did not +look entirely around at first; he had no glimpse into her eyes.</p> +<p>"It was another experience of war," she said moodily, returning +to the subject of Hugo. "Yes, something like the final chapter of +experience, the trial of this dreamer." Then a wave of restless +impatience with her abstraction swept over her. Speaking of +dreamers, she herself would stop dreaming. "For experience does +make a great difference, doesn't it?" she exclaimed with a sad, +knowing smile. After a perceptible pause her eyes suddenly glowed +into his. All the commotion of her thought was galvanized into +purpose in the look. "I have had a heart full and a mind full of +experiences!" she said. "I have been close to war—closer than +you! I have looked on while others fought!"</p> +<p>The thing was coming! He should hear the story of the change +that war had wrought in her. She appeared to regard him as the one +listener whom she had sought; as a confidant who alone could +understand her. His gift for listening was in full play as he +relaxed and settled back in his chair, shading his eyes with his +hand lest he should seem to stare. For in his eagerness he would +not miss any one of her varied signals of emotion.</p> +<p>She was as vivid as he knew that she would be, her narration +flashes of impression in clear detail. Her being seemed transparent +to its depths and her moods through the last week to run past him +in review. He marvelled at times at her military knowledge; again +at her impartiality. She was neither for the Browns nor the Grays; +she was simply telling what she had seen. She passed by some +horrors; on others she dwelt with fearless emphasis.</p> +<p>"Then the hand-grenades were thrown!" She put her hands over her +eyes. "As they fell"—she put her hands over her +ears—"oh, the groans!"</p> +<p>"It was the Browns who started it!" he interjected in defence. +"I had hoped that we should escape that kind of warfare." He was +too intent to recall what he had said to the premier about using +every known method of destruction.</p> +<p>"And this is only the beginning, isn't it?" she asked piteously, +exhausted with her story.</p> +<p>"Only the beginning!" he agreed.</p> +<p>Again brooding wonder appeared in her eyes, while there was +wonder in his eyes—wonder at her.</p> +<p>"And you remain with your property!" he exclaimed in a burst of +admiration.</p> +<p>Once more she was looking away into the distance; once more he +was studying her profile. He knew that she had gone through her +experience without tears and without a scream. She had been +subjected to his final test of all merit—war. Courage she +had, feminine courage. And he had often asked himself what would +happen if he, a great man, should ever meet a great woman. He was +baffled by the resources of a mind that was held in detachment +under her charm; baffled as to what she was thinking at that +moment, only to find her smiling at him, the wonder in her eyes +resolving itself into purpose.</p> +<p>"You see, I have been very much stirred up," she said half +apologetically. "There are some questions I want to ask—quite +practical, selfish questions. You might call them questions of +property and mercy. The longer the war lasts the greater will be +the loss of life and the misery?"</p> +<p>"Yes, for both sides; and the heavier the expense and the +taxes."</p> +<p>"If you win, then we shall be under your flag and pay taxes to +you?"</p> +<p>"Yes, naturally."</p> +<p>"The Browns do not increase in population; the Grays do rapidly. +They are a great, powerful, civilized race. They stand for +civilization!"</p> +<p>"Yes, facts and the world's opinion agree," he replied. Puzzled +he might well be by this peculiar catechism. He could only continue +to reply until he should see where she was leading.</p> +<p>"And your victory will mean a new frontier, a new order of +international relations and a long peace, you think? Peace—a +long peace!"</p> +<p>Was there ever a soldier who did not fight for peace? Was there +ever a call for more army-corps or guns that was not made in the +name of peace? He had his ready argument, spoken with the forcible +conviction of an expert.</p> +<p>"This war was made for peace—the only kind of peace that +there can be," he said. "My ambition, if any glory comes to me out +of this war, is to have later generations say: 'He brought +peace!'"</p> +<p>Though the premier, could he have heard this, might have smiled, +even grinned, he would have understood Westerling's unconsciousness +of inconsistency. The chief of staff had set himself a task in +victory which had no military connection. Without knowing why, he +wanted to win ascendancy over her mind.</p> +<p>"The man of action!" exclaimed Marta, her eyes opening very +wide, as they would to let in the light when she heard something +new that pleased her or gave food for thought. "The man of action, +who thinks of an ideal as a thing not of words but as the end of +action!"</p> +<p>"Exactly!" said Westerling, sensible of another of her gifts. +She could get the essence of a thing in a few words. "When we have +won and set another frontier, the power of our nation will be such +in the world that the Browns can never afford to attack us," he +went on. "Indeed, no two of the big nations of Europe can afford to +make war without our consent. We shall be the arbiters of +international dissensions. We shall command peace—yes, the +peace of force, of fact! If it could be won in any other way I +should not be here on this veranda in command of an army of +invasion. That was my idea—for that I planned." He was making +up for having overshot himself in his confession that he had +brought on the war as a final step for his ambition.</p> +<p>"You mean that you can gain peace by propaganda and education +only when human nature has so changed that we can have law and +order and houses are safe from burglary and pedestrians from +pickpockets without policemen? Is that it?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes! You have it! You have found the wheat in the +chaff."</p> +<p>"Perhaps because I have been seeing something of human +nature—the human nature of both the Browns and the Grays at +war. I have seen the Browns throwing hand-grenades and the Grays in +wanton disorder in our dining-room directly they were out of touch +with their officers!" she said sadly, as one who hates to accept +disillusionment but must in the face of logic.</p> +<p>Westerling made no reply except to nod, for a movement on her +part preoccupied him. She leaned forward, as she had when she had +told him he would become chief of staff, her hands clasped over her +knee, her eyes burning with a question. It was the attitude of the +prophecy. But with the prophecy she had been a little mystical; the +fire in her eyes had precipitated an idea. Now it forged another +question.</p> +<p>"And you think that you will win?" she asked. "You think that +you will win?" she repeated with the slow emphasis which demands a +careful answer.</p> +<p>The deliberateness of his reply was in keeping with her mood. He +was detached; he was a referee.</p> +<p>"Yes, I know that we shall. Numbers make it so, though there be +no choice of skill between the two sides."</p> +<p>His tone had the confidence of the flow of a mighty river in its +destination on its way to the sea. There was nothing in it of +prayer, of hope, of desperation, as there had been in Lanstron's +"We shall win!" spoken to her in the arbor at their last interview. +She drew forward slightly in her chair. Her eyes seemed much larger +and nearer to him. They were sweeping him up and down as if she +were seeing the slim figure of Lanstron in contrast to Westerling's +sturdiness; as if she were measuring the might of the five millions +behind him and the three millions behind Lanstron. She let go a +half-whispered "Yes!" which seemed to reflect the conclusion gained +from the power of his presence.</p> +<p>"Then my mother's and my own interests are with you—the +interests of peace are with you!" she declared.</p> +<p>She did not appear to see the sudden, uncontrolled gleam of +victory in his eyes; for now she was looking fixedly at the point +where Hugo had stood. By this time it had become a habit for +Westerling to wait silently for her to come out of her +abstractions. To disturb one might make it unproductive.</p> +<p>"Then if I want to help the cause of peace I should help the +Grays!"</p> +<p>The exclamation was more to herself than to him. He was silent. +This girl in a veranda chair desiring to aid him and his five +million bayonets and four thousand guns! Quixote and the +windmills—but it was amazing; it was fine! The golden glow of +the sunset was running in his veins in a paean of personal triumph. +The profile turned ever so little. Now it was looking at the point +where Dellarme had lain dying. Westerling noted the smile playing +on the lips. It had the quality of a smile over a task +completed—Dellarme's smile. She started; she was trembling +all over in the resistance of some impulse—some impulse that +gradually gained headway and at last broke its bonds.</p> +<p>"For I can help—I can help!" she cried out, turning to him +in wild indecision which seemed to plead for guidance. "It's so +terrible—yet if it would hasten peace—I—I know +much of the Browns' plan of defence! I know where they are strong +in the first line and—and one place where they are weak +there—and a place where they are weak in the main line!"</p> +<p>"You do!" Westerling exploded. The plans of the enemy! The plans +that neither Bouchard's saturnine cunning, nor bribes, nor spies +could ascertain! It was like the bugle-call to the hunter. But he +controlled himself. "Yes, yes!" He was thoughtful and guarded.</p> +<p>"Do you think it is right to tell?" Marta gasped half +inarticulately.</p> +<p>"Right? Yes, to hasten the inevitable—to save lives!" +declared Westerling with deliberate assurance.</p> +<p>"I—I want to see an end of the killing! I—" She +sprang to her feet as if about to break away tumultuously, but +paused, swaying unsteadily, and passed her hand across her +eyes.</p> +<p>"We intend a general attack on the first line of defence +to-night!" he exclaimed, his supreme thought leaping into +words.</p> +<p>"And you would want the information about the first line +to-night if—if it is to be of service?"</p> +<p>"Yes, to-night!"</p> +<p>Marta brought her hands together in a tight clasp. Her gaze +fluttered for a minute over the tea-table. When she looked up her +eyes were calm.</p> +<p>"It is a big thing, isn't it?" she said. "A thing not to be done +in an impulse. I try never to do big things in an impulse. When I +see that I am in danger of it I always say: 'Go by yourself and +think for half an hour!' So I must now. In a little while I will +let you know my decision."</p> +<p>Without further formality she started across the lawn to the +terrace steps. Westerling watched her sharply, passing along the +path of the second terrace, pacing slowly, head bent, until she was +out of sight. Then he stood for a time getting a grip on his own +emotions before he went into the house.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXXIII' id="XXXIII"></a> +<h2>XXXIII</h2> +<h3>IN FELLER'S PLACE</h3> +<br> +<p>What am I? What have I done? What am I about to do? shot as +forked shadows over the hot lava-flow of Malta's impulse. The +vitality that Westerling had felt by suggestion from a still +profile rejoiced in a quickening of pace directly she was out of +sight of the veranda. All the thinking she had done that afternoon +had been in pictures; some saying, some cry, some groan, or some +smile went with every picture.</p> +<p>Coming to the arbor she slowed down for a step or two, arrested +by the recollection of her last meeting with Lanstron. There it was +that she had scored him for making her an accomplice of trickery. +She saw his twitching hand, and the misery in his eyes and the +cadence of his words came as clearly as notes from a violin in a +silent chamber to her ears. She nodded in affirmation; she shook +her head in negation; she frowned; she laughed strangely, and +hurried on.</p> +<p>The sitting-room of the tower was empty to other eyes but not to +hers. In imagination she saw Feller standing by the table in the +dejection of his heart-break when he faced her and Lanstron, his +secret disclosed; and the appeal was more potent in memory than it +had been at the time. She went on into the bedroom, which had been +formerly the tool-room. On the threshold of the steps into the +darkness she glanced back, to see Feller's face transfixed as it +had been when he discovered the presence of +interlopers—transfixed in fighting rage.</p> +<p>The lantern was in the corner at hand. Only yesterday, in want +of occupation, as she thought, she had cleaned the chimney and +trimmed the wick. It seemed as if Lanny's fingers were lighting it +now; as if he were leading the way as he had on her first visit to +the telephone. After her hastening steps had carried her along the +tunnel to the telephone, she set down the lantern and pressed the +spring that opened the panel door. Another moment and she would be +embarked on her great adventure in the finality of action. That +little ear-piece became a spectre of conscience. She drew back +convulsively and her hands flew to her face; she was a rocking +shadow in the thin, reddish light of the lantern.</p> +<p>Conscious mind had torn off the mask from subconscious mind, +revealing the true nature of the change that war had wrought in +her. She who had resented Feller's part—what a part she had +been playing! Every word, every shade of expression, every telling +pause of abstraction after Westerling confessed that he had made +war for his own ends had been subtly prompted by a purpose whose +actuality terrified her.</p> +<p>Her hypocrisy, she realized, was as black as the wall of +darkness beyond the lantern's gleam. All her pictures became a +whirling involution of extravaganza and all the speeches of the +characters of the scenes a kind of wail. Then this demoralization +passed, as a nightmare passes, with Westerling's boast again in her +ears. She was seeing Hugo Mallin; hearing him announce his +principles in sight of the spot where Dellarme had died:</p> +<p>"I love my country.... But I know that other men love theirs.... +Men should be brave for their convictions.... The Browns are +fighting for their homes.... They are fighting, as I should want to +fight, against murder and burglary.... I will fight with my face to +the white posts, but not with my back to them."</p> +<p>She was seeing the faces of her children; she was hearing them +repeat:</p> +<p>"But I shall not let a burglar drive me from my house. If an +enemy tries to take my land I shall appeal to his sense of justice +and reason with him; but if he then persists I shall fight for my +home."</p> +<p>When war's principles, enacted by men, were based on sinister +trickery called strategy and tactics, should not women, using such +weapons as they had, also fight for their homes? Marta's hands +swept down from her eyes; she was on fire with resolution.</p> +<p>Forty miles away a bell in Lanstron's bedroom and at his desk +rang simultaneously. At the time he and Partow were seated facing +each other across a map on the table of the room where they worked +together. No persuasion of the young vice-chief, no edict of the +doctors, could make the old chief take exercise or shorten his +hours.</p> +<p>"I know. I know myself!" he said. "I know my duty. And you are +learning, my boy, learning!"</p> +<p>Every day the flabby cheeks grew pastier and the pouches under +the eyebrows heavier. But there was no dimming of the eagle flashes +of the eyes, no weakening of the will. Last night Lanstron had +turned as white as chalk when Partow staggered on rising from the +table, the veins on his temples knotted blue whip-cords. Yet after +a few hours' sleep he reappeared with firm step, fresh for the +fray.</p> +<p>The paraphernalia around these two was the same as that around +Westerling. Only the atmosphere of the staff was different. It had +a quality of sober and buoyant alertness and fatality of +determination rather than rigid confidence. Otherwise, there was +the same medley of typewriters and telegraph instruments, the same +types of busy officers and clerks that occupied the Galland house. +To them, at least, war had brought no surprises. Its routine was as +they had anticipated it there in the big division headquarters +building, dissociated from the actual experience of the intimate +emotions of the front. Each man was performing the part set for +him. No man knew much of any other man's part. Partow alone knew +all, and Lanstron was trying to grasp all and praying that Partow's +old body should still feed his mind with energy. Lanstron was +thinner and paler, a new and glittering intensity in his eyes.</p> +<p>A messenger had just brought in two despatches from the +telegraph room. One was from the taciturn press bureau of the Grays +which flashed into the Browns' headquarters from a neutral country +at the same time that it flashed around the world to illumine +bulletin-boards in every language of civilization. Day after day +the Grays had announced the occupation of fresh positions. This was +the only news that they had permitted egress—the news which +read like the march of victory to the eager world of the press, +hastening to quick conclusions. To-day came the official word that +Westerling had established his headquarters on conquered territory. +Proof, this, that five could drive back three; that the weak could +not resist the strong!</p> +<p>"Hm-m—indeed!" exclaimed Partow, lifting his brow into +massive, corrugated wrinkles. "It may affect the stock market, but +not the result."</p> +<p>The other despatch was also out of the land of the Grays, but +not by Westerling's consent or knowledge. By devious ways it had +broken through the censorship of the frontier in cunning cipher. It +told of artillery concentrations three days old; it told only what +the aeroplanes had already seen; it told what the Grays had done +but nothing of what they intended to do.</p> +<p>When word of Feller's defection came, Lanstron realized for the +first time by Partow's manner that the old chief of staff, with all +his deprecation of the telephone scheme as chimerical, had grounded +a hope on it.</p> +<p>"There was the chance that we might know—so vital to the +defence—what they were going to do before and not after the +attack," he said.</p> +<p>Yet the story of how Feller yielded to the temptation of the +automatic had made the nostrils of the old war-horse quiver with a +dramatic breath, and instead of the command of a battery of guns, +which Lanstron had promised, the chief made it a battalion. He had +drawn down his brows when he heard that Marta had asked that the +wire be left intact; he had shot a shrewd, questioning glance at +Lanstron and then beat a tattoo on the table and half grinned as he +grumbled under his breath:</p> +<p>"She is afraid of being lonesome! No harm done!" A week had +passed since the Grays had taken the Galland house, and still no +word from Marta. The ring of the bell brought Lanstron to his feet +with a startled, boyish bound.</p> +<p>"Very springy, that tendon of Achilles!" muttered Partow. "And, +my boy, take care, take care!" he called suddenly in his sonorous +voice, as vast and billowy as his body. "Take care! She might +unwittingly repeat something you said—and hold on!" He was +amazingly light and vigorous on his feet as he rose and hurried +after Lanstron with the quick, short steps of active adiposity. +"She may have seen or heard something. Ask—ask what is the +spirit of the staff, of the soldiers who have fought? What is the +truth about their losses? What—" He broke off at the door of +Lanstron's bedroom. Lanstron had flung aside a bathrobe that +covered a panel door in the closet and already had the receiver in +his hand. "But you know what to ask!" concluded Partow. A flush of +embarrassment crept into the pasty cheeks and a sparkle into his +fine old eyes as he withdrew to acquit himself of being an +eavesdropper.</p> +<p>It was Marta's voice and yet not Marta's, this voice that beat +in nervous waves over the wire.</p> +<p>"Lanny—yes, I, Lanny! You were right. Westerling planned +to make war deliberately to satisfy his ambition. He told me so. +The first general attack on the first line of defence is to-night. +Westerling says so!" She had to pause for breath. "And, Lanny, I +want to know some position of the Browns which is weak—not +actually weak, maybe, but some position where the Grays expect +terrible resistance and will not find it—where you will let +them in!"</p> +<p>"In the name of—Marta! Marta, what—"</p> +<p>"I am going to fight for the Browns—for my home!"</p> +<p>In the sheer satisfaction of explaining herself to herself, of +voicing her sentiments, she sent the pictures which had wrought the +change moving across the screen before Lanstron's amazed vision. +There was no room for interruption on his part, no question or need +of one. The wire seemed to quiver with the militant tension of her +spirit. It was Marta aflame who was talking at the other end; not +aflame for him, but with a purpose that revealed all the latent +strength of her personality and daring.</p> +<p>"Yes, the only way is to fight for your home," she concluded. +"Otherwise, the world would be to the bully and the heads of saints +and philosophers and teachers would be egg-shells under his +bludgeon."</p> +<p>"It seems," said Lanstron, "that this is almost like my own +view."</p> +<p>He was sorry before the words were fairly out of his mouth that +he had taken that tack. It was asking her to back down abruptly +from her old principles, which only the weak proselyte will do +readily; and she was not a proselyte at all, to her conception.</p> +<p>"No, no!" She etched her reply into his mind with acid, "My +profession is peace; it is not war. I am caught with my back to the +wall. If the Browns lose, the Gray flag floats over my home. As +Westerling says, everybody must take orders from the Grays then. +Oh, the mockery of his repairing the damage done to our house and +grounds! Let him repair the damage done to fathers and mothers by +bringing their sons sacrificed to the ambition for conquest back to +life! Oh, I got the whole of him reflected in the mirror of himself +this afternoon when he was comfortably taking tea, and in no +danger, and sending men to death!"</p> +<p>There Lanstron winced over a characterization that might apply +to him. He could think of only one thing that would ever heal the +wound. Perhaps the chance for it would come some day.</p> +<p>"Yes," she went on, "sitting there so comfortably and serenely +and deciding that a man who was ready to die for his convictions +must be shot for cowardice! My views are like Hugo Mallin's and my +back is against the wall. But to the work, Lanny! I have a +half-hour in which to make up my mind"—she laughed curiously +as she repeated the phrase—"in which to make up my mind." +Briefly she recounted what about: "I want to give him positive +information of a weak point that can be taken easily."</p> +<p>"But, Marta—Marta—have you considered what a +terrible risk—what—" he protested, the chief of +intelligence now submerged in the man.</p> +<p>"No more than for Feller. I sent Feller away and I am taking his +place. How is he? Did he get his guns?"</p> +<p>"Yes, not a battery, but a battalion—a major's +command—and the iron cross, too!"</p> +<p>"Splendid! Oh, I'd like to see him in uniform directing their +fire! How happy he must be! But, are you going to do your part? Are +you going to give me the information?"</p> +<p>"I shall have to ask Partow. It's a pretty big thing."</p> +<p>"Yes—only that is not all my plan, my little plan. After +they have taken the first line of defence—and they will get +it, won't they?"</p> +<p>"Yes, we shall yield in the end, yield rather than suffer too +great losses there that will weaken the defence on the main +line."</p> +<p>"Then I want to know where it is that you want Westerling to +attack on the main line, so that we can get him to attack there. +That—that will help, won't it?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Of course, all the while I shall be getting news from +him—when I have proven my loyalty and have his complete +confidence—and I'll telephone it to you. I am sure I can get +something worth while with you to direct me; don't you think so, +Lanny?"</p> +<p>She put the question as simply as if she were asking if she +might sew on a button for him. It had the charm of an intimate +fellowship of purpose. It appeared free of the least realization of +the magnitude of her undertaking. Didn't Mrs. Galland believe that +blood would tell? And hadn't the old premier, her grandfather, +said: "You can afford to be fussed about little things but never +about big things"?</p> +<p>"I'll hold the wire, Lanny. Ask Partow!" she concluded. Of the +two she was the steadier.</p> +<p>"Well?" said Partow, looking up at the sound of Lanstron's step. +Then he half raised himself from his chair at sight of a Lanstron +with eyes in a daze of brilliancy; a Lanstron with his maimed hand +twitching in an outstretched gesture; a Lanstron in the dilemma of +being at the same time lover and chief of intelligence. Should he +let her make the sacrifice of everything that he held to be sacred +to a woman's delicacy? Should he not return to the telephone and +tell her that he would not permit her to play such a part? Partow's +voice cut in on his demoralization with the sharpness of a +blade.</p> +<p>"Well, what, man, what?" he demanded. He feared that the girl +might be dead. Anything that could upset Lanstron in this fashion +struck a chord of sympathy and apprehension.</p> +<p>Lanstron advanced to the table, pressed his hands on the edge, +and, now master of himself, began an account of Marta's offer. +Partow's formless arms lay inert on the table, his soft, pudgy +fingers outspread on the map and his bulk settled deep in the +chair, while his eagle eyes were seeing through Lanstron, through a +mountain range, into the eyes of a woman and a general on the +veranda of an enemy's headquarters. The plan meant giving, giving +in the hope of receiving much in return. Would he get the +return?</p> +<p>"A woman was the ideal one for the task we intrusted to Feller," +he mused, "a gentlewoman, big enough, adroit enough, with her soul +in the work as no paid woman's could be! There seemed no such one +in the world!"</p> +<p>"But to let her do it!" gasped Lanstron.</p> +<p>"It is her suggestion, not yours? She offers herself? She wants +no persuasion?" Partow asked sharply.</p> +<p>"Entirely her suggestion," said Lanstron. "She offers herself +for her country—for the cause for which our soldiers will +give their lives by the thousands. It is a time of sacrifice."</p> +<p>Partow raised his arms. They were not formless as he brought +them down with sledge-hammer force to the table.</p> +<p>"Your tendon of Achilles? My boy, she is your sword-arm!" His +sturdy forefinger ran along the line of frontier under his eye with +little staccato leaps. "Eh?" he chuckled significantly, finger +poised.</p> +<p>"Let them up the Bordir road and on to redoubts 36 and 37, you +mean?" asked Lanstron.</p> +<p>"You have it! The position looks important, but so well do we +command it that it is not really vital. Yes, the Bordir road is her +bait for Westerling!" Partow waved his hand as if the affair were +settled.</p> +<p>"But," interjected Lanstron, "we have also to decide on the +point of the main defence which she is to make Westerling think is +weak."</p> +<p>"Hm-m!" grumbled Partow. "That is not necessary to start with. +We can give that to her later over the telephone, can't we, +eh?"</p> +<p>"She asked for it now."</p> +<p>"Why?" demanded Partow with one of his shrewd, piercing +looks.</p> +<p>"She did not say, but I can guess," explained Lanstron. "She +must put all her cards on the table; she must tell Westerling all +she knows at once. If she tells him piecemeal it might lead to the +supposition that she still had some means of communication with the +Browns."</p> +<p>"Of course, of course!" Partow spatted the flat of his hand +resoundingly on the map. "As I decided the first time I met her, +she has a head, and when a woman has a head for that sort of thing +there is no beating her. Well—" he was looking straight into +Lanstron's eyes, "well, I think we know the point where we could +draw them in on the main line, eh?"</p> +<p>"Up the apron of the approach from the Engadir valley. We yield +the advance redoubts on either side."</p> +<p>"Meanwhile, we have massed heavily behind the redoubt. We retake +the advance redoubts in a counter-attack and—" Partow brought +his fist into his palm with a smack.</p> +<p>"Yes, if we could do that! If we could get them to expend their +attack there!" put in Lanstron very excitedly for him.</p> +<p>"We must! She shall help!" Partow was on his feet. He had +reached across the table and seized Lanstron's shoulders in a +powerful if flesh-padded grip. Then he turned Lanstron around +toward the door of his bedroom and gave him a mighty slap of +affection. "My boy, the brightest hope of victory we have is +holding the wire for you. Tell her that a bearded old behemoth, who +can kneel as gracefully as a rheumatic rhinoceros, is on both knees +at her feet, kissing her hands and trying his best, in the name of +mercy, to keep from breaking into verse of his own +composition."</p> +<p>Back at the telephone, Lanstron, in the fervor of the cheer and +the enthusiasm that had transported his chief, gave Marta Partow's +message.</p> +<p>"You, Marta, are our brightest hope of victory!"</p> +<p>"Yes?" The monosyllable was detached, dismal, labored. "A woman +can be that!" she exclaimed in an uncertain tone, which grew into +the distraction of clipped words and broken sentences. "A woman +play-acting—a woman acting the most revolting +hypocrisy—influences the issue between two nations! Her +deceit deals in the lives of sons precious to fathers and mothers, +the fate of frontiers, of institutions! Think of it! Think of +machines costing countless millions—machines of flesh and +blood, with their destinies shaped by one little bit of lying +information! Think of the folly of any civilization that stakes its +triumphs on such a gamble! Am I not right? Isn't it true? Isn't +it?"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, Marta! But—I—" If she were weakening it +was not his place to try to strengthen her purpose.</p> +<p>"I was thinking, only thinking!" she murmured reflectively. +"That's not the thing now!" she added with sudden force. "Partow +gave you the positions?"</p> +<p>He described the Bordir position. She repeated the description +after him with a stoical matter-of-factness to make sure that she +had it correctly.</p> +<p>"I must actually know in order to be convincing," she said. "Now +that of the main line."</p> +<p>He did not include in the description of Engadir any reference +to the Browns' plan of a crushing counter-attack. But as she was +repeating this, her calm tone broke into an outcry of horror, as +the nature of what he was inadvertently concealing flashed into her +mind. She was seeing another picture of imagination, with all the +hideous detail of realism drawn from her week's experiences.</p> +<p>"That column of Grays will go forward cheering with victory, led +on, tricked on—and then they will find themselves in a +shambles. No going forward, no going back through the cross-fire! +Is that it?"</p> +<p>"Yes, something like that, though not exactly a +cross-fire—not unless the enemy has poorer generals than we +think."</p> +<p>"But that will be the object and the effect—wholesale +slaughter?"</p> +<p>"Yes!" assented Lanstron honestly.</p> +<p>"And a woman whose greatest happiness and pride was in teaching +the righteousness and the beauty of peace to children—her lie +will send them to death!" she moaned. "I shall be a party to +murder!"</p> +<p>"No more than Westerling! No more than any general! No—" +But he paused in his argument. Conviction must come to her from +within, not from without. He stood graven and wordless, while she +was tortured in the hell of her mind's creation.</p> +<p>She was hearing the cry in the night of the Gray soldier who had +fallen from the dirigible in the first day's fighting; the agonized +groans of the men under the wall of the terrace when the +hand-grenades spattered human flesh as if it were jelly. But there +was Dellarme smiling; there was Hugo Mallin saying that he would +fight for his own home; there was Stransky, who had thrown the +hand-grenade, bringing in an exhausted old man on his back from +under fire; there was Feller as he rallied Dellarme's men; +and—and there was Lanny waiting at the other end of the +wire—and a burglar should not take her home.</p> +<p>"Men must have the courage of their convictions!" Hugo had said. +Hers were all for peace. But there was not peace. There could not +be peace until the war demon had had his fill of killing and one +side had to cry for mercy. Which side should that be? That was the +only question.</p> +<p>"It will the sooner end fighting, won't it, Lanny?" she asked in +a small, tense voice.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"And the only real end that means real peace is to prove that +the weak can hold back the strong from their threshold?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>Even now Westerling might be on the veranda, perhaps waiting for +news that would enable him to crush the weak; to prove that the law +of five pounds of human flesh against three, and five bayonets +against three, is the law of civilization.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, yes!" The constriction was gone from her throat; +there was a drum-beat in her soul. "Depend on me, Lanny!" It was +Feller's favorite phrase spoken by the one who was to take his +place. "Yes, I'm ready to make any sacrifice now. For what am I? +What is one woman compared to such a purpose? I don't care what is +said of me or what becomes of me if we can win! Good-by, Lanny, +till I call you up again! And God with us!"</p> +<p>"God with us!" as Partow had said, over and over The saying had +come to be repeated by hard-headed, agnostic staff-officers, who +believed that the deity had no relation to the efficiency of +gun-fire. The Brown infantrymen even were beginning to mutter it in +the midst of action.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXXIV' id="XXXIV"></a> +<h2>XXXIV</h2> +<h3>THREE VOICES</h3> +<br> +<p>Waiting on the path of the second terrace for Westerling to +come, Marta realized the full meaning of her task. Day in and day +out she was to have suspense at her elbow and the horror of +hypocrisy on her conscience, the while keeping her wits nicely +balanced. She must feel her part and at the same time she must be +sufficiently conscious that she was placing a part not to let any +impulse of aversion betray her. The tea-table scene had been a +rehearsal; coming was a <i>première</i> before the ghostly, +still faces across the bent glare of the footlights. No ready-made +lines, hers She must create them. Every word must be the right word +and spoken in the right way, all for the deception of one man.</p> +<p>When she saw Westerling appear on the veranda and start over the +lawn she felt dizzy and uncertain of her capabilities. In the +gathering dusk he seemed of giant stature, too masterful to be +outwitted by any trickery she might devise. She wondered if she +would be able to articulate a word; if she would not turn and +flee.</p> +<p>"I have considered all that you said for my guidance and I have +decided," she began.</p> +<p>Marta heard her own voice with the relief of a singer in a +début who, with knees shaking, finds that her notes are +true. She was looking directly at Westerling in profound +seriousness. Though knees shook, lips and chin could aid eyes in +revealing the painful fatigue of a battle that had raged in the +mind of a woman who went away for half an hour to think for +herself.</p> +<p>"I have concluded," she went on, "that it is an occasion for the +sacrifice of private ethics to a great purpose, the sooner to end +the slaughter."</p> +<p>"All true!" whispered an inner voice. Its tone was Lanny's, in +the old days of their comradeship. It gave her strength. All +true!</p> +<p>"Yes, an end—a speedy end!" said Westerling with a fine, +inflexible emphasis. "That is your prayer and mine and the prayer +of all lovers of humanity."</p> +<p>"He is not thinking of humanity, but of individual victory!" +whispered another voice, which had the mellow tone of Hugo Mallin's +deliberate wisdom.</p> +<p>"It is little that I know, but such as it is you shall have it," +she began, conscious of his guarded scrutiny. When she told him of +Bordir, the weak point in the first line of the Browns' defence, +she noted no change in his steady look; but with the mention of +Engadir in the main line she detected a gleam in his eyes that had +the merciless delight of a cutting edge of steel. "I have made my +sacrifice to some purpose? The information is worth something to +you?" she asked wistfully.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes! Yes, it promises that way," he replied +thoughtfully.</p> +<p>Quietly he began a considerate catechism. Soon she was subtly +understanding that her answers lacked the convincing details that +he sought. She longed to avert her eyes from his for an instant, +but she knew that this would be fatal. She felt the force of him +directed in professional channels, free of all personal relations, +beating as a strong light on her bare statements. How could a woman +ever have learned two such vital secrets? How could it happen that +two such critical points as Bordir and Engadir should go +undefended? No tactician, no engineer but would have realized their +strategic importance. Did she know what she was saying? How did she +get her knowledge? These, she understood, were the real questions +that underlay Westerling's polite indirection.</p> +<p>"Invention! Quick, quick! How did you find out? Quick and +naturally and obviously—pure invention; no half-way +business!" whispered still another voice, the voice of that most +facile of story-builders, Feller, this time.</p> +<p>"But I have not told you the sources of my information! Isn't +that like a woman!" she exclaimed. "You see, it did not concern me +at all at the time I heard it. I didn't even realize its importance +and I didn't hear much," she proceeded, her introduction giving +time for improvisation. "You see, Partow was inspecting the +premises with Colonel Lanstron. My mother had known Partow in her +younger days when my grandfather was premier. We had them both to +luncheon."</p> +<p>"Yes?" put in Westerling, betraying his eagerness. Partow and +Lanstron! Then her source was one of authority, not the gossip of +subalterns!</p> +<p>"And it occurs to me now that, even while he was our guest," she +interjected in sudden indignation—"that even while he was our +guest Partow was planning to make our grounds a redoubt!"</p> +<p>"Bully! Very feminine and convincing!" whispered the voice of +Feller.</p> +<p>"After luncheon I remember Partow saying, 'We are going to have +a look at the crops,' and they went for a walk out to the knoll +where the fighting began."</p> +<p>"Yes! When was this?" Westerling asked keenly.</p> +<p>"Only about six weeks ago," answered Marta.</p> +<p>"That's it! That's splendid! If you'd said a year ago there +would have been time enough in the meanwhile to fortify!" whispered +the voice of Feller encouragingly. "You're going fine! Keep it +up!"</p> +<p>"Later, I came upon them unexpectedly after they had returned," +Marta went on. "They were sitting there on that seat concealed by +the shrubbery. I was on the terrace steps unobserved and I couldn't +help overhearing them. Their voices grew louder with the interest +of their discussion. I caught something about appropriations and +aeroplanes and Bordir and Engadir, and saw that Lanstron was +pleading with his chief. He wanted a sum appropriated for +fortifications to be applied to building planes and dirigibles. +Finally, Partow consented, and I recall his exact words: 'They're +shockingly archaically defended, especially Engadir,' he said, 'but +they can wait until we get further appropriations in the fall.'" +She was so far under the spell of her own invention that she +believed the reality of her words, reflected in her wide-open eyes +which seemed to have nothing to hide.</p> +<p>"That is all," she exclaimed with a shudder—"all my +eavesdropping, all my breach of confidence! If—if it—" +and her voice trembled with the intensity of the one purpose that +was shining with the light of truth through the murk of her +deception—"it will only help to end the slaughter!" She held +out her hand convulsively in parting as if she would leave the rest +with him.</p> +<p>"I think it will," he said soberly. "I think it will prove that +you have done a great service," he repeated as he caught both her +hands, which were cold from her ordeal. His own were warm with the +strong beating of his heart stirred by the promise of what he had +just heard. But he did not prolong the grasp. He was as eager to be +away to his work as she to be alone. "I think it will. You will +know in the morning," he added.</p> +<p>His steps were sturdier than ever in the power of five against +three as he started back to the house. When he reached the veranda, +Bouchard, the saturnine chief of intelligence, appeared in the +doorway of the dining-room: or, rather, reappeared, for he had been +standing there throughout the interview of Westerling and Marta, +whose heads were just visible, above the terrace wall, to his hawk +eyes.</p> +<p>"A little promenade in the open and my mind made up," said +Westerling, clapping Bouchard on the shoulder.</p> +<p>"Something about an attack to-night?" asked Bouchard.</p> +<p>"You guess right. Call the others."</p> +<p>Five minutes later he was seated at the head of the dining-room +table with his chiefs around him waiting for their chairman to +speak. He asked some categorical questions almost perfunctorily, +and the answer to each was, "Ready!" with, in some instances, a +qualification—the qualification made by regimental and +brigade commanders that, though they could take the position in +front of them, the cost would be heavy. Yes, all were willing and +ready for the first general assault of the war, but they wanted to +state the costs as a matter of professional self-defence.</p> +<p>Westerling could pose when it served his purpose. Now he rose +and, going to one of the wall maps, indicated a point with his +forefinger.</p> +<p>"If we get that we have the most vital position, haven't +we?"</p> +<p>Some uttered a word of assent; some only nodded. A glance or two +of curiosity was exchanged. Why should the chief of staff ask so +elementary a question? Westerling was not unconscious of the +glances or of their meaning. They gave dramatic value to his next +remark.</p> +<p>"We are going to mass for our main attack in front at +Bordir!"</p> +<p>"But," exclaimed four or five officers at once, "that is the +heart of the position! That is—"</p> +<p>"I believe it is weak—that it will fall, and +to-night!"</p> +<p>"You have information, then, information that I have not?" asked +Bouchard.</p> +<p>"No more than you," replied Westerling. "Not as much if you have +anything new."</p> +<p>"Nothing!" admitted Bouchard wryly. He lowered his head under +Westerling's penetrating look in the consciousness of failure.</p> +<p>"I am going on a conviction—on putting two and two +together!" Westerling announced. "I am going on my experience as a +soldier, as a chief of staff. If I am wrong, I take the +responsibility. If I am right, Bordir will be ours before morning. +It is settled!"</p> +<p>"If you are right, then," exclaimed Turcas—"well, then +it's genius or—" He did not finish the sentence. He had been +about to say coincidence; while Westerling knew that if he were +right all the rising scepticism in certain quarters, owing to the +delay in his programme, would be silenced. His prestige would be +unassailable.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXXV' id="XXXV"></a> +<h2>XXXV</h2> +<h3>MRS. GALLAND INSISTS</h3> +<br> +<p>"You have been in the tunnel again!" said Mrs. Galland with an +emphasis on "again," when Marta came up the stairs, lantern in +hand, after telling Lanstron of her interview with Westerling.</p> +<p>"Again—yes!" Marta replied mechanically. Her mind was +empty, burned out. She had thought herself through with deceit for +the day.</p> +<p>"What interests you so much down there?" Mrs. Galland pursued +softly.</p> +<p>Marta realized that she had to deal with a fresh dilemma. She +could not be making frequent visits to the telephone without her +mother's knowledge; and, as yet, Mrs. Galland knew nothing of the +part originally planned for Feller, let alone any inkling of her +daughter's part.</p> +<p>"I didn't know but it would be a good place to hide our plate +and other treasures," said Marta, offering rather methodically the +first invention that came to mind as she threw open-the reflector +of the lantern and turned down the wick. She was ashamed of the +excuse. It warned her how easy it was becoming for her to +lie—yes, lie was the word.</p> +<p>"Don't blow out the light, please," said Mrs. Galland. "I should +like to see for myself if the tunnel is a good hiding-place for the +plate."</p> +<p>"It's too damp for you down there—it's—" Marta blew +out the flame with a sudden gust of breath and bolted across the +room and into her chamber, closing the door and taking the lantern +with her. In utter fatigue she dropped on the bed. Then came a +gentle, prolonged knocking on the door.</p> +<p>"You forgot to leave the lantern," called Mrs. Galland. "I have +come to get it, if you please."</p> +<p>Marta did not answer. Her head had sunk forward; her hands, +bearing the weight of her body, were resting on her knees. All she +could think was that one more lie would break the camel's back.</p> +<p>"Marta, please mayn't I come in?" rose the gentle voice on the +other side of the door. "Marta, don't you hear me? I asked if I +might come in."</p> +<p>"It's too childish and silly to remain silent any longer," +thought Marta. Tired nerves revived spasmodically under another +call to action. "Yes, certainly, mother—yes, do!" she said in +a forced, metallic tone.</p> +<p>Mrs. Galland entered to find her daughter before the mirror +brushing her hair with hectic vigor. She did not take up the +lantern, which Marta had left in the middle of the floor, but +seated herself. Her nice deliberation in smoothing out a wrinkle of +her skirt over her knees indicated that she meant to stay a while. +She folded her plump, white hands; a faint touch of color came into +her round, pink cheeks; a trace of a smile knitted itself into the +corners of her mouth. She was as she had been—<i>J'y suis! +J'y reste</i>!—when the captain of engineers had pleaded with +her at the outset of the war to leave the house. In the reflection +of the mirror Marta's glance caught hers, which was without +reproach or complaint, but very resolute.</p> +<p>"Do you like best to keep it all to yourself, Marta?" Mrs. +Galland inquired solicitously.</p> +<p>"What? Keep what?" asked Marta crossly.</p> +<p>"Even if you have been all the way around the world, it might be +easier if you allowed me to help you a little," pursued Mrs. +Galland.</p> +<p>"Help! Help about what?" said Marta.</p> +<p>That reply, as Marta knew now as an expert in deceit, was a +mistake. She was hedging and petulant when she ought to have +whirled around gayly and kissed her mother on the cheek, while +laughing at such solemnity over a trip of exploration through the +tunnel. Mrs. Galland had caught her prevaricating. Not since Marta +was a little girl of seven had she "fibbed" to her mother; and on +that memorable and ethically instructive occasion her mother had +regarded her in this same calm fashion.</p> +<p>"At all events," said Mrs. Galland, "I could help you a little +if you would let me comb your hair. You are combing in a most +unsystematic way, I must say. Systematic, gentle combing is very +good for headaches and—"</p> +<p>There was a twinkle in Mrs. Galland's eye that was not exactly +humor; a persistent twinkle that seemed to shine out of every part +of the mirror. Her curiosity had come to stay; there was no +escaping it. Marta brought her brush down with a bang on the +bureau, only to be disgusted with this show of temper which the +persistent twinkle had not missed. Her next impulse, unanalyzed +because it was one of the oldest and simplest of impulses, made her +spin round and drop on her knees at her mother's feet, which was +just what had happened when she had started to brave out the last +lie—the childhood lie.</p> +<p>Her head buried in her mother's lap, she was sobbing. It was +many years since Mrs. Galland had known Marta to sob and she was +glad that Marta had not forgotten how. She believed in the value of +the law of overflow. When Marta looked up with eyes still moist, it +was with the joyous satisfaction that begins a confession. Not once +during the recital did the smile fade from Mrs. Galland's lips. She +was too well fortified for any kind of a shock to exhibit +surprise.</p> +<p>"You see, I could not tell you—I—" Marta concluded, +still uncertain what conclusion lay behind her mother's +attitude.</p> +<p>"Of course you could not," said Mrs. Galland. "As +grandfather—my father, the premier—said; a man action +cannot stop to explain everything he does. He must strike while the +iron is hot. If you had stopped to discuss every step you would not +have gone far—Yes, I should have argued and protested. It was +best that I, being as I am—that I should not have been +told—not until now."</p> +<p>"And I must go on!" added Marta.</p> +<p>"Of course you must!" replied Mrs. Galland. "You must for the +sake of the Browns—the flag your father and grandfather +served. They would not have approved of petty deceit, but anything +for the cause, any sacrifices, any immolation of self and personal +sensibilities. Yes, your father would have been happy, though he +had no son, to know that his daughter might do such a service. And +we must tell Minna," she added.</p> +<p>"Minna! You think so? Every added link may mean weakness."</p> +<p>"But Minna will see you going and coming from the tunnel, too. +She is for the Browns with all her heart. They are her people and, +besides," Mrs. Galland smiled rather broadly, "that giant Stransky +is with the Browns!" So Minna was told.</p> +<p>"I'd like to kiss your skirt, Miss Galland!" exclaimed Minna in +admiration.</p> +<p>"Better kiss me!" said Marta, throwing her arms around the girl. +"We must stand together and think together in any emergency."</p> +<p>Soon after dark the attack began. Flashes of bursting shells and +flashes from gun mouths and glowing sheets of flame from rifles +made ugly revelry, while the beams of search-lights swept hither +and thither. This kept up till shortly after midnight, when it died +down and, where hell's concert had raged, silent darkness shrouded +the hills. Marta knew that Bordir was taken without having to ask +Lanstron or wait for confirmation from Westerling.</p> +<p>She was seated in the recess of the arbor the next morning, when +she heard the approach of those regular, powerful steps whose +character had become as distinct to her as those of a member of her +own family. Five Against three! five against three! they were +saying to her; while down the pass road and the castle road ran the +stream of wounded from last night's slaughter.</p> +<p>Posted in the drawing-room of the Galland house were the +congratulations of the premier to Westerling, who had come from the +atmosphere of a staff that accorded to him a military insight far +above the analysis of ordinary standards. But he was too clever a +man to vaunt his triumph. He knew how to carry his honors. He +accepted success as his due, in a matter-of-course manner that must +inspire confidence in further success.</p> +<p>"You were right," he said to Marta easily, pleasantly. "We did +it—we did it—we took Bordir with a loss of only twenty +thousand men!"</p> +<p><i>Only</i> twenty thousand! Her revulsion at the bald statement +was relieved by the memory of Lanny's word over the telephone after +breakfast that the Browns had lost only five thousand. Four to one +was a wide ratio, she was thinking.</p> +<p>"Then the end—then peace is so much the nearer?" she +asked.</p> +<p>"Very much nearer!" he answered earnestly, as he dropped on the +bench beside her.</p> +<p>He stretched his arms out on the back of the seat and the +relaxed attitude, unusual with him, brought into relief a new trait +of which she had been hitherto oblivious. The conqueror had become +simply a companionable man. Though he was not sitting close to her, +yet, as his eyes met hers, she had a desire to move away which she +knew would be unwise to gratify. She was conscious of a certain +softening charm, a magnetism that she had sometimes felt in the +days when she first knew him. She realized, too, that then the +charm had not been mixed with the indescribable, intimate quality +that it held now.</p> +<p>"In the midst of congratulations after the position was taken +last night," he declared, "I confess that I was thinking less of +success than of its source." He bent on her a look that was warm +with gratitude.</p> +<p>She lowered her lashes before it; before gratitude that made her +part appear in a fresh angle of misery.</p> +<p>"There seems to be a kind of fatality about our relations," he +went on. "I lay awake pondering it last night." His tone held more +than gratitude. It had the elation of discovery.</p> +<p>"Look out! Look out, now!" Not only the voices of Lanny and +Feller and Hugo warned her, but also those of her mother and +Minna.</p> +<p>"He is going to make it harder than I ever guessed!" echoed her +own thought, in a flutter of confusion.</p> +<p>"Yes, it was strange our meeting on the frontier in peace and +then in war!" she exclaimed at random. The sound of the remark +struck her as too subdued; as expectant, when her purpose was one +of careless deprecation.</p> +<p>"I have met a great many women, as you may have imagined," he +proceeded. "They passed in review. They were simply women, witty +and frail or dull and beautiful, and one meant no more to me than +another. Nothing meant anything to me except my profession. But I +never forgot you. You planted something in mind: a memory of real +companionship."</p> +<p>"Yes, I made the prophecy that came true!" she put in. This +ought to bring him back to himself and his ambitions, she +thought.</p> +<p>"Yes!" he exclaimed, his body stiffening free of the back of the +seat. "You realized what was in me. You foresaw the power which was +to be mine. The fate that first brought us together made me look +you up in the capital. Now it brings us together here on this bench +after all that has passed in the last twenty-four hours."</p> +<p>She realized that he had drawn perceptibly nearer. She wanted to +rise and cry out: "Don't do this! Be the chief of staff, the +conqueror, crushing the earth with the tread of five against +three!" It was the conqueror whom she wanted to trick, not a man +whose earnestness was painting her deceit blacker. Far from rising, +she made no movement at all; only looked at her hands and allowed +him to go on, conscious of the force of a personality that mastered +men and armies now warm and appealing in the full tide of another +purpose.</p> +<p>"The victory that I was thinking of last night was not the +taking of Bordir. It was finer than any victory in war. It was +selfish—not for army and country, but born of a human +weakness triumphant; a human weakness of which my career had robbed +me," he continued. "It gave me a joy that even the occupation of +the Browns' capital could not give. I had come as an invader and I +had won your confidence."</p> +<p>"In a cause!" she interrupted hurriedly, wildly, to stop him +from going further, only to find that her intonation was such that +it was drawing him on.</p> +<p>"That fatality seemed to be working itself out to the soldier so +much older than yourself in renewed youth, in another form of +ambition. I hoped that there was more than the cause that led you +to trust me. I hoped—"</p> +<p>Was he testing her? Was he playing a part of his own to make +certain that she was not playing one? She looked up swiftly for +answer. There was no gainsaying what she saw in his eyes. It was +beating into hers with the power of an overwhelming masculine +passion and a maturity of intellect as his egoism admitted a +comrade to its throne. Such is ever the way of the man in the +forties when the clock strikes for him. But who could know better +the craft of courtship than one of Westerling's experience? He was +fighting for victory; to gratify a desire.</p> +<p>"I did not expect this—I—" The words escaped +tumultuously and chokingly.</p> +<p>She heard all the voices in chorus: "Look out! Look out!" And +then the voice of Feller alone, insinuating, with a sinister +mischievousness: "What more could you ask? Now that you have him, +hold him! For God and country—for our dear Brown land!"</p> +<p>Hold a man who was making love to her by the tricks of the +courtesan! But what kind of love? He was bending so close to her +that she felt his breath on her cheek burning hot, and she was +sickeningly conscious that he was looking her over in that +point-by-point manner which she had felt across the tea-table at +the hotel. This horrible thing in his glance she had sometimes seen +in strangers on her travels, and it had made her think that she was +wise to carry a little revolver. She wanted to strike him.</p> +<p>"Confess! Confess!" called all her own self-respect. "Make an +end to your abasement!"</p> +<p>"Confession, after the Browns have given up Bordir! Confession +that makes Lanny, not Westerling, your dupe!" came the reply, which +might have been telegraphed into her mind from the high, white +forehead of Partow bending over his maps. "Confession, betraying +the cause of the right against the wrong; the three to the +conquering five! No! You are in the things. You may not retreat +now."</p> +<p>For a few seconds only the duel of argument thundered in her +temples—seconds in which her lips were parted and quivering +and her eyes dilated with an agitation which the man at her side +could interpret as he pleased. A prompting devil—a devil +roused by that thing in his eyes—urging a finesse in +double-dealing which only devils understand, made her lips +hypnotically turn in a smile, her eyes soften, and sent her hand +out to Westerling in a trance-like gesture. For an instant it +rested on his arm with telling pressure, though she felt it burn +with shame at the point of contact.</p> +<p>"We must not think of that now," she said. "We must think of +nothing personal; of nothing but your work until your work is +done!"</p> +<p>The prompting devil had not permitted a false note in her voice. +Her very pallor, in fixity of idea, served her purpose. Westerling +drew a deep breath that seemed to expand his whole being with +greater appreciation of her. Yet that harried hunger, the hunger of +a beast, was still in his glance.</p> +<p>"This is like you—like what I want you to be!" he said. +"You are right." He caught her hand, enclosing it entirely in his +grip, and she was sensible, in a kind of dazed horror, of the +thrill of his strength. "Nothing can stop us! Numbers will win! +Hard fighting in the mercy of a quick end!" he declared with his +old rigidity of five against three which was welcome to her. +"Then," he added—"and then—"</p> +<p>"Then!" she repeated, averting her glance. "Then—" There +the devil ended the sentence and she withdrew her hand and felt the +relief of one escaping suffocation, to find that he had realized +that anything further during that interview would be banality and +was rising to go.</p> +<p>"I don't feel decent!" she thought. "Society turned on Minna for +a human weakness—but I—I'm not a human being! I am one +of the pawns of the machine of war!"</p> +<p>Walking slowly with lowered head as she left the arbor, she +almost ran into Bouchard, who apologized with the single word +"Pardon!" as he lifted his cap in overdone courtesy, which his +stolid brevity made the more conspicuous.</p> +<p>"Miss Galland, you seem lost in abstraction," he said in sudden +loquacity. "I am almost on the point of accusing you of being a +poet."</p> +<p>"Accusing!" she replied. "Then you must think that I would write +bad poetry."</p> +<p>"On the contrary, I should say excellent—using the sonnet +form," he returned.</p> +<p>"I might make a counter accusation, only that yours would be the +epic form," answered Marta. "For you, too, seem fond of +rambling."</p> +<p>There was a veiled challenge in the hawk eyes, which she met +with commonplace politeness in hers, before he again lifted his cap +and proceeded on his way.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXXVI' id="XXXVI"></a> +<h2>XXXVI</h2> +<h3>MARKING TIME</h3> +<br> +<p>For the next two weeks Marta's rôle resolved itself into a +kind of routine. Their cramped quarters became spacious to the +three women in the intimacy of the common secret shared by them +under the very nose of the staff. With little Clarissa Eileen, they +formed the only feminine society in the neighborhood. On sunshiny +days Mrs. Galland was usually to be found in her favorite chair +outside the tower door; and here Minna set the urn on a table at +four-thirty as in the old days.</p> +<p>No member of the staff was more frequently present at Marta's +teas than Bouchard, who was developing his social instinct late in +life by sitting in the background and allowing others to do the +talking while he watched and listened. In his hearing, Marta's +attitude toward the progress of the war was sympathetic but never +interrogatory, while she shared attention with Clarissa Eileen, who +was in danger of becoming spoiled by officers who had children of +their own at home. After the reports of killed and wounded, which +came with such appalling regularity, it was a relief to hear of the +day's casualties among Clarissa's dolls. The chief of +transportation and supply rode her on his shoulder; the chief of +tactics played hide-and-seek with her; the chief engineer built her +a doll house of stones with his own hands; and the chief medical +officer was as concerned when she caught a cold as if the health of +the army were at stake.</p> +<p>"We mustn't get too set up over all this attention, Clarissa +Eileen, my rival," said Marta to the child. "You are the only +little girl and I am the only big girl within reach. If there were +lots of others it would be different."</p> +<p>She had occasional glimpses of Hugo Mallin on his crutches, +keeping in the vicinity of the shrubbery that screened the stable +from the house. How Marta longed to talk with him! But he was +always attended by a soldier, and under the rigorous discipline +that held all her impulses subservient to her purpose she passed by +him without a word lest she compromise her position.</p> +<p>Bouchard was losing flesh; his eyes were sinking deeper under a +heavier frown. His duty being to get information, he was gaining +none. His duty being to keep the Grays' secrets, there was a leak +somewhere in his own department. He quizzed subordinates; he made +abrupt transfers, to no avail.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, the Grays were taking the approaches to the main line +of defence, which had been thought relatively immaterial but had +been found shrewdly placed and their vulnerability overestimated. +The thunders of batteries hammering them became a routine of +existence, like the passing of trains to one living near a +railroad. The guns went on while tea was being served; they ushered +in dawn and darkness; they were going when sleep came to those whom +they later awakened with a start. Fights as desperate as the one +around the house became features of this period, which was only a +warming-up practice for the war demon before the orgy of the +impending assault on the main line.</p> +<p>Marta began to realize the immensity of the chess-board and of +the forces engaged in more than the bare statement of numbers and +distances. If a first attack on a position failed, the wires from +the Galland house repeated their orders to concentrate more guns +and attack again. In the end the Browns always yielded, but +grudgingly, calculatingly, never being taken by surprise. The few +of them who fell prisoners said, "God with us! We shall win in the +end!" and answered no questions. Gradually the Gray army began to +feel that it was battling with a mystery which was fighting under +cover, falling back under cover—a tenacious, watchful mystery +that sent sprays of death into every finger of flesh that the Grays +thrust forward in assault.</p> +<p>"Another position taken. Our advance continues," was the only +news that Westerling gave to the army, his people, and the world, +which forgot its sports and murders and divorce cases in following +the progress of the first great European war for two generations. +He made no mention of the costs; his casualty lists were secret. +The Gray hosts were sweeping forward as a slow, irresistible tide; +this by Partow's own admission. He announced the loss of a position +as promptly as the Grays its taking. He published a daily list of +casualties so meagre in contrast to their own that the Grays +thought it false; he made known the names of the killed and wounded +to their relatives. Yet the seeming candor of his press bureau +included no straw of information of military value to the +enemy.</p> +<p>Westerling never went to tea at the Gallands' with the other +officers, for it was part of his cultivation of greatness to keep +aloof from his subordinates. His meetings with Marta happened +casually when he went out into the garden. Only once had he made +any reference to the "And then" of their interview in the +arbor.</p> +<p>"I am winning battles for <i>you</i>!" he had exclaimed with +that thing in his eyes which she loathed.</p> +<p>To her it was equivalent to saying that she had tricked him into +sending men to be killed in order to please her. She despised +herself for the way he confided in her; yet she had to go on +keeping his confidence, returning a tender glance with one that +held out hope. She learned not to shudder when he spoke of a loss +of "only ten thousand." In order to rally herself when she grew +faint-hearted to her task, she learned to picture the lines of his +face hard-set with five-against-three brutality, while in comfort +he ordered multitudes to death, and, in contrast, to recall the +smile of Dellarme, who asked his soldiers to undergo no risk that +he would not share. And after every success he would remark that he +was so much nearer Engadir, that position of the main line of +defence whose weakness she had revealed.</p> +<p>"Your Engadir!" he came to say. "Then we shall again profit by +your information; that is, unless they have fortified since you +received it."</p> +<p>"They haven't. They had already fortified!" she thought. She was +always seeing the mockery of his words in the light of her own +knowledge and her own part, which never quite escaped her +consciousness. One chamber of her mind was acting for him; a second +chamber was perfectly aware that the other was acting.</p> +<p>"One position more—the Twin Boulder Redoubt, it is +called," he announced at last. "We shall not press hard in front. +We shall drive in masses on either side and storm the flanks."</p> +<p>This she was telephoning to Lanstron a few minutes later and +having, in return, all the news of the Browns. The sheer +fascination of knowing what both sides were doing exerted its spell +in keeping her to her part.</p> +<p>"They've lost four hundred thousand men now, Lanny," she +said.</p> +<p>"And we only a hundred thousand. We're whittling them down," +answered Lanstron.</p> +<p>"Whittling them down! What a ghastly expression!" she gasped. +"You are as bad as Westerling and I am worse than either of you! +I—I announced the four hundred thousand as if they were a +score—a score in a game in our favor. I am helping, Lanny? +All my sacrifice isn't for nothing?" she asked for the hundredth +time.</p> +<p>"Immeasurably. You have saved us many lives!" he replied.</p> +<p>"And cost them many?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Yes, Marta, no doubt," he admitted; "but no more than they +would have lost in the end. It is only the mounting up of their +casualties that can end the war. Thus the lesson must be +taught."</p> +<p>"And I can be of most help when the attack on the main defence +is begun?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"And when Westerling finds that my information is false about +Engadir—then—"</p> +<p>She had never put the question to him in this way before. What +would Westerling do if he found her out?</p> +<p>"My God, Marta!" he exclaimed. "If I'd had any sense I would +have thought of that in the beginning and torn out the 'phone! I've +been mad, mad with the one thought of the nation—inhuman in +my greedy patriotism. I will not let you go any further!"</p> +<p>It was a new thing for her to be rallying him; yet this she did +as the strange effect of his protest on the abnormal sensibilities +that her acting had developed.</p> +<p>"Thinking of me—little me!" she called back. "Of one +person's comfort when hundreds of thousands of other women are in +terror; when the destiny of millions is at stake! Lanny, you are in +a blue funk!" and she was laughing forcedly and hectically. "I'm +going on—going on like one in a trance who can't stop if he +would. It's all right, Lanny. I undertook the task myself. I must +see it through!"</p> +<p>After she had hung up the receiver her buoyancy vanished. She +leaned against the wall of the tunnel weakly. Yes, what if she were +found out? She was thinking of the possibility seriously for the +first time. Yet, for only a moment did she dwell upon it before she +dismissed it in sudden reaction.</p> +<p>"No matter what they do to me or what becomes of me!" she +thought. "I'm a lost soul, anyway. The thing is to serve as long as +I can—and then I don't care!"</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXXVII' id="XXXVII"></a> +<h2>XXXVII</h2> +<h3>THUMBS DOWN FOR BOUCHARD</h3> +<br> +<p>Haggard and at bay, Bouchard faced the circle of frowns around +the polished expanse of that precious heirloom, the dining-room +table of the Gallands. The dreaded reckoning of the apprehensions +which kept him restlessly awake at night had come at the next staff +council after the fall of the Twin Boulder Redoubt. With the last +approach to the main line of defence cleared, one chapter of the +war was finished. But the officers did not manifest the elation +that the occasion called for, which is not saying that they were +discouraged. They had no doubt that eventually the Grays would +dictate peace in the Browns' capital. Exactly stated, their mood +was one of repressed professional irritation. Not until the third +attempt was Twin Boulder Redoubt taken. As far as results were +concerned, the nicely planned first assault might have been a +stroke of strategy by the Browns to drive the Grays into an +impassable fire zone.</p> +<p>"The trouble is we are not informed!" exclaimed Turcas, opening +his thin lips even less than usual, but twisting them in a +significant manner as he gave his words a rasping emphasis. The +others hastened to follow his lead with equal candor.</p> +<p>"Exactly. We have no reports of their artillery strength, which +we had greatly underestimated," said the chief of artillery.</p> +<p>"Our maps of their forts could not be less correct if revealed +to us for purposes of deceit. Again and again we have thought that +we had them surprised, only to be surprised ourselves. In short, +they know what we are doing and we don't know what they are doing!" +said the tactical expert.</p> +<p>There the chief of the aerostatic division took the +defensive.</p> +<p>"They certainly don't learn our plans with their planes and +dirigibles!" he declared energetically.</p> +<p>"Hardly, when we never see them over our lines."</p> +<p>"The Browns are acting on the defensive in the air as well as on +the earth!"</p> +<p>"But our own planes and dirigibles bring little news," said +Turcas. "I mean, those that return," he added pungently.</p> +<p>"And few do return. My men are not wanting in courage!" replied +the chief aerostatic officer. "Immediately we get over the Brown +lines the Browns, who keep cruising to and fro, are on us like +hawks. They risk anything to bring us down. When we descend low we +strike the fire of their high-angle guns, which are distributed the +length of the frontier. I believe both their aerial fleet and their +high-angle artillery were greatly underestimated. Finally, I cannot +reduce my force too much in scouting or they might rake the +offensive."</p> +<p>"Another case of not being informed!" concluded Turcas, +returning grimly to his point.</p> +<p>He looked at Bouchard, and every one began looking at Bouchard. +If the Gray tacticians had been outplayed by their opponents, if +their losses for the ground gained exceeded calculations, then it +was good to have a scapegoat for their professional mistakes. +Bouchard was Westerling's choice for chief of intelligence. His +blind loyalty was pleasing to his superior, who, hitherto, had +promptly silenced any suggestion of criticism by repeating that the +defensive always appeared to the offensive to be better informed +than itself. But this time Westerling let the conversation run on +without a word of excuse for his favorite.</p> +<p>Each fresh reproach from the staff, whose opinion was the only +god he knew, was a dagger thrust to Bouchard. At night he had lain +awake worrying about the leak; by day he had sought to trace it, +only to find every clew leading back to the staff. Now he was as +confused in his shame as a sensitive schoolboy. Vaguely, in his +distress, he heard Westerling asking a question, while he saw all +those eyes staring at him.</p> +<p>"What information have we about Engadir?"</p> +<p>"I believe it to be strongly fortified!" stammered Bouchard.</p> +<p>"You believe! You have no information?" pursued Westerling.</p> +<p>"No, sir," replied Bouchard. "Nothing—nothing new!"</p> +<p>"We do seem to get little information," said Westerling, looking +hard and long at Bouchard in silence—the combined silence of +the whole staff.</p> +<p>This public reproof could have but one meaning. He should soon +receive a note which would thank him politely for his services, in +the stereotyped phrases always used for the purpose, before +announcing his transfer to a less responsible post.</p> +<p>"Very little, sir!" Bouchard replied doggedly.</p> +<p>"There is that we had from one of our aviators whose machine +came down in a smash just as he got over our infantry positions on +his return," said the chief aerostatic officer. "He was in a dying +condition when we picked him up, and, as he was speaking with the +last breaths in his body, naturally his account of what he had seen +was somewhat incoherent. It would be of use, however, if we had +plans of the forts that would enable us to check off his report +intelligently."</p> +<p>"Yet, what evidence have we that Partow or Lanstron has done +more than to make a fortunate guess or show military insight?" +Westerling asked. "There is the case of my own belief that Bordir +was weak, which proved correct."</p> +<p>"Last night we got a written telegraphic staff message from the +body of a dead officer of the Browns found in the Twin Boulder +Redoubt," said the vice-chief, "which showed that in an hour after +our plans were transmitted to our own troops for the first attack +they were known to the enemy."</p> +<p>"That looks like a leak!" exclaimed Westerling, "a leak, +Bouchard, do you hear?" He was frowning and his lips were drawn and +his cheeks mottled with red in a way not pleasant to see.</p> +<p>Stiffening in his chair, a flash of desperation in his eye, +Bouchard's bony, long hand gripped the table edge. Every one felt +that a sensation was coming.</p> +<p>"Yes, I have known that there was a leak!" he said with hoarse, +painful deliberation. "I have sent out every possible tracer. I +have followed up every sort of clew I have transferred a dozen men. +I have left nothing undone!"</p> +<p>"With no result?" persisted Westerling impatiently</p> +<p>"Yes, always the same result: That the leak is here in this +house—here in the grand headquarters of the army under our +very noses. I know it is not the telegraphers or the clerks. It is +a member of the staff!"</p> +<p>"Have you gone out of your head?" demanded Westerling. "What +staff-officer? How does he get the information to the enemy? Name +the persons you suspect here and now! Explain, if you want to be +considered sane!"</p> +<p>Here was the blackest accusation that could be made against an +officer! The chosen men of the staff, tested through many grades +before they reached the inner circle of cabinet secrecy, lost the +composure of a council. All were leaning forward toward Bouchard +breathless for his answer.</p> +<p>"There are three women on the grounds," said Bouchard. "I have +been against their staying from the first. I——."</p> +<p>He got no further. His words were drowned by the outburst of one +of the younger members of the staff, who had either to laugh or +choke at the picture of this deep-eyed, spectral sort of man, known +as a woman-hater, in his revelation of the farcical source of his +suspicions.</p> +<p>"Why not include Clarissa Eileen?" some one asked, Starting a +chorus of satirical exclamations.</p> +<p>"How do they get through the line?"</p> +<p>"Yes, past a wall of bayonets?"</p> +<p>"When not even a soldier in uniform is allowed to move away from +his command without a pass?"</p> +<p>"By wireless?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps by telepathy!"</p> +<p>"Unless," said the chief of the aerostatic division, grinning, +"Bouchard lends them the use of our own wires through the capital +and around by the neutral countries across the Brown frontier!"</p> +<p>"But the correct plans and location of their forts and the +numbers of their heavy guns and of their planes and +dirigibles—your failure to have this information is not the +result of any leak from our staff since the war began," said Turcas +in his dry, penetrating voice, clearing the air of the smoke of +scattered explosions.</p> +<p>All were staring at Bouchard again. What answer had he to this? +He was in the box, the evidence stated by the prosecutor. Let him +speak!</p> +<p>He was fairly beside himself in a paroxysm of rage and struck at +the air with his clenched fist.</p> +<p>"—— —— Lanstron!" he cried.</p> +<p>"There's no purpose in that. He can't hear you!" said Turcas, +dryly as ever.</p> +<p>"He might, through the leak," said the chief aerostatic officer, +who considered that many of his gallant subordinates had lost their +lives through Bouchard's inefficiency. "Perhaps Clarissa Eileen has +already telepathically wigwagged it to him."</p> +<p>To lose your temper at a staff council is most unbecoming. +Turcas would have kept his if hit in the back by a fool +automobilist. Westerling had now recovered his. He was again the +superman in command.</p> +<p>"It is for you and not for us to locate the leak; yes, for you!" +he said. "That is all on the subject for the present," he added in +a tone of mixed pity and contempt, which left Bouchard freed from +the stare of his colleagues and in the miserable company of his +humiliation.</p> +<p>All on the subject for the present! When it was taken up again +his successor would be in charge. He, the indefatigable, the +over-intense, with his mediæval partisan fervor, who loathed +in secret machines like Turcas, was the first man of the staff to +go for incompetency.</p> +<p>"And Engadir is the key-point," Westerling was saying.</p> +<p>"Yes," agreed Turcas.</p> +<p>"So we concentrate to break through there," Westerling +continued, "while we engage the whole line fiercely enough to make +the enemy uncertain where the crucial attack is to be made."</p> +<p>"But, general, if there is any place that is naturally strong, +that—" Turcas began.</p> +<p>"The one place where they are confident that we won't attack!" +Westerling interrupted. He resented the staff's professional +respect for Turcas. After a silence and a survey of the faces +around, he added with sententious effect: "And I was right about +Bordir!"</p> +<p>To this argument there could be no answer. The one stroke of +generalship by the Grays, who, otherwise, had succeeded alone +through repeated mass attacks, had been Westerling's hypothesis +that had gained Bordir in a single assault.</p> +<p>"Engadir it is, then!" said Turcas with the loyalty of the +subordinate who makes a superior's conviction his own, the better +to carry it out.</p> +<p>Hazily, Bouchard had heard the talk, while he was looking at +Westerling and seeing him, not at the head of the council table, +but in the arbor in eager appeal to Marta.</p> +<p>"I shall find out! I shall find out!" was drumming in his +temples when the council rose; and, without a word or a backward +glance, he was the first to leave the room.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXXVIII' id="XXXVIII"></a> +<h2>XXXVIII</h2> +<h3>HUNTING GHOSTS</h3> +<br> +<p>In his search for the medium of the leak to the enemy Bouchard +had studied every detail of the Galland premises and also of the +ruins of the castle, with the exception of one feature mentioned in +the regular staff records, prepared before the war, in the course +of their minute description of the architecture of buildings which +were accessible to the spies of the Grays. The tunnel to the +dungeons could be reached only through the private quarters of the +Gallands.</p> +<p>When he came out onto the veranda from the staff council a +glimpse of Mrs. Galland walking in the garden told him that one of +the guardians who stood between him and the satisfaction of his +desperate curiosity was absent. He started for the tower and found +the door open and the sitting-room empty. In his impatience he had +one foot across the threshold before a prompting sense of respect +for form made him pause. After all, this was a private residence. +There being no bell, he rapped, and was glad that it was Minna and +not Marta who appeared. He watched her intently for the effect of +his abrupt announcement as he exclaimed:</p> +<p>"I want to go into the tunnel under the castle!"</p> +<p>There was no mistaking her shock and alarm. Her lips remained +parted in a letter O as a sweep of breath escaped. Yet, in the very +process of recovering her scattered faculties, her feminine +quickness noted a triumphant gleam in his eye. She knew that her +manner had given conviction to his suspicions. She knew that she +alone stood between him and his finding Marta talking to Brown +headquarters. As she was in a state of astonishment, why, +astonishment was her cue. She appeared positively speechless from +it except for the emission of another horrified gasp. Time! time! +She must hold him until Marta left the telephone.</p> +<p>"What an idea! That musty, horrible, damp tunnel!" she +exclaimed, shuddering. "I never think of it without thinking of +ghosts!"</p> +<p>"I am looking for ghosts," replied Bouchard with saturnine +emphasis.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't say that!" cried Minna distractedly. "Sometimes at +night I hear their chains clanking and their groans and cries for +water," she continued, playing the superstitious and stupid maid +servant. "That is, I think I do. Miss Galland says I don't."</p> +<p>"Does she go into the tunnel?" asked Bouchard.</p> +<p>"Yes, she's been in to show me that there were no ghosts," +replied Minna. "But not the whole way—not into the dungeons. +I believe she got frightened herself, though she wouldn't admit it. +I know there are ghosts! She needn't tell me! Don't you believe +there are?" she asked solemnly, with dropped jaw.</p> +<p>"I'm going to find out!" he said, taking a step forward.</p> +<p>But Minna, just inside the doorway, did not move to allow him to +enter.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm so glad!" she exclaimed. "Then we'll know the truth. +But no!" and she turned wild with protest. "No, no! I know there +are! It's dangerous, sir! You'd never come out alive! Unseen hands +would seize you and draw you down and strangle you—those +terrible spirits of the dark ages!"</p> +<p>Her hands uplifted, fingers stretched apart in terror, lace +white with fear, Minna's distress was real—very real, +indeed!—while she listened impatiently for Marta's step in +the adjoining room.</p> +<p>"Good heavens!" exclaimed Bouchard in disgust. "I didn't know +such superstition existed in this day."</p> +<p>"I didn't, sir, until the groans and the clanking of the chains +kept me awake," replied Minna.</p> +<p>"Have you a lantern?" asked Bouchard in exasperation.</p> +<p>"A lantern?" repeated Minna blankly. Time! time! She must gain +time!</p> +<p>"Yes, you gawk, a lantern!"</p> +<p>"Certainly; you'll need one," said Minna—"a big one! Go +and fetch a big army one—and some soldiers to fight the +ghosts. But what are soldiers against ghosts? Oh, sir, I don't like +to think of you going at all. Please, sir, don't, for the sake of +your life!"</p> +<p>There Bouchard frowned heavily and his hawk eyes flashed in +command and decision.</p> +<p>"Enough of this farce! A lamp, a candle will do. Come, get me +one immediately!"</p> +<p>Just as she was at her wits' end and it seemed as if there were +nothing left to do but to scream and fall in a faint in front of +Bouchard, her ear caught the welcome sound which told her that +Marta had returned from the tunnel.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir. Won't you come in, sir? Of course, sir," she said, +standing aside. "Won't you be seated, sir?"</p> +<p>"Good day, Colonel Bouchard!" called Marta, appearing in the +doorway.</p> +<p>"He wants to go into the dungeons to see the ghosts!" Minna +exclaimed in a return of horror before Bouchard had time to say a +word, while she screwed up the side of her face away from him +suggestively to Marta. "Those terrible ghosts! I'm afraid for him. +Like a man, he may go right into the dungeons, even if you didn't +dare to, Miss Galland."</p> +<p>"I wish he would!" Marta joined in eagerly. "That might cure you +of your silly imaginings, Minna. She actually thinks, Colonel +Bouchard, that she hears them groan and moan and even shriek. +Didn't you say they shrieked as well as groaned and moaned once +about 3 A.M.?" she asked jocularly.</p> +<p>"A ghost must be hard put to it when he shrieks," observed +Bouchard, glaring from one to the other.</p> +<p>"It's all very well for you to make fun of me because you have +the advantage of an education," said Minna to Marta, "but you +yourself—you—"</p> +<p>"Yes, I did hear what sounded like moaning voices," admitted +Marta rather sheepishly. "But of course it was imagination. Now we +have a man with nerve enough to go into the dungeons, we'll lay +this ridiculous psychological bugaboo at once; that is, if you have +the nerve!" She arched her brows in challenging scrutiny of +Bouchard, while her eyes twinkled at the prospect of adventure. "I +thought I had, myself, but before I got to the dungeons the clammy +air wilted it and I was rubbing my eyes to keep from seeing all +kinds of apparitions."</p> +<p>She puzzled Bouchard, she was so facile, so ready, so +many-sided. But the more she puzzled him the stronger became his +conviction of her guilt. He guessed that all this talk was only a +prelude to some trick to keep him out of the tunnel. Poor at speech +at best, slightly fussed by her candid good humor and teasing, he +hesitated as to his next remark. He was going to be short with her +in stating that he would go into the tunnel immediately, when she +took the words out of his mouth.</p> +<p>"This way, please. I'm all impatience. I only wish that you had +suggested it before."</p> +<p>As they passed out of the room Minna leaned against the wall, +exhausted and wonder-struck.</p> +<p>"Miss Galland is beyond me!" she thought. "Does she think those +hawk eyes will miss that little button of the panel door?"</p> +<p>"We'll need a lantern," said Marta as she took up the one she +had been using from a corner of the tool room; while Bouchard, +slowly turning his head like some automaton, was examining every +detail of floor and wall, spades, hoes, and weeders, for a hidden +significance. The lantern was still hot, and Marta's finger smarted +with a burn, but she did not twitch. She was so keyed up that she +felt capable of walking over red-hot coals, while she joked about +ghosts. "There!" she exclaimed, after the lantern was lighted. +"This is going to be great sport. Ghost hunting—think of +that! We might have made a ghost party Too bad we didn't think of +it in time. Yes, it's a pity to be so exclusive about it. Even now +we might send for General Westerling and some of the other +staff-officers."</p> +<p>She paused and looked at Bouchard questioningly, perhaps +challengingly; at least, he thought challengingly. He had half a +mind to concur. Could anything be better than to have Westerling +present if suspicions proved correct? But no. She wanted Westerling +and that was the best reason why he should not be present. Yet +there was no sign of chicane in the brimming fun of her eyes that +went with the suggestion. Bouchard's search for the proper words of +dissent left him rather confused and at a disadvantage. With +sympathetic quickness she seemed to guess his thoughts, and in a +way that he found all the more exasperating.</p> +<p>"No, no! We're too impatient! We can't wait, can we?" she +exclaimed. "Let's go. Let's get the ghosts single-handed, you and +I. If we win we'll demand a specially large bronze cross to be +struck for us."</p> +<p>"Yes," he agreed with an affectation of humor that made him feel +ludicrous. He always felt ludicrous when he tried to be +humorous.</p> +<p>"Come on!" said Marta, going to the stairway.</p> +<p>He extended his hand to take the lantern with an "If you +please!"</p> +<p>"No. When we approach the enemy I'll let you lead," she replied, +refusing the offer. "I'll be only too glad then; but these stairs +are very tricky if you don't know them. Keep watch!" she warned him +as she started to descend, picking her way slowly.</p> +<p>Once in the tunnel she held the lantern a little back of her in +her right hand, which threw a shadow to the left on the side of the +panel door. She was walking very fast, too fast to please Bouchard. +In the swinging rays he could not fly-speck the surroundings with +the care that he desired. Yet how could he ask her to slacken her +pace? This she did of her own accord before they had gone far.</p> +<p>"Isn't it damp and deathlike? Think of it!" she exclaimed. "No +ray of sunlight has been in here since the tunnel was dug—no, +not even then; for probably it was dug after the castle was built. +Think of the stories these walls could tell after the silence of +centuries! Think of the prisoners driven along at the point of the +halberd to slow death in the dungeons! You feel their spirits in +the cold, clammy air." Her elocution was excellent, as her voice +sank to an awed whisper, impressing even Bouchard with a certain +uncanniness. Her steps became slow, as with effort, while he was +not missing a square inch of the top, bottom, or sides of the +tunnel. "But I'll not—I'll not this time, when I have a +soldier with me. For once I'll go to the end!" she cried with +forced courage, suddenly starting forward at a half run that sent +the lantern's rays lurching and dancing in a way that confused the +hawk eyes. Then her burst of strength seemed to give out in +collapse and she dropped against the wall for support, her back +covering the panel door.</p> +<p>"I can't! I'm just foolishly, weakly feminine!" she whispered +brokenly. "According to reason there aren't any ghosts, I know. But +it gets on my nerves too much-my imaginings!" She held out the +lantern with a trembling hand. "I will wait here. You go on in!" +she begged. "Please do and show me what a fool I am! Show that it +is all a woman's hysteria—for we are all hysterical, aren't +we? Go into every dungeon, please!"</p> +<p>She did seem on the verge of hysteria, quivering as die was from +head to foot. But Bouchard, holding the lantern and staring at her, +his eyes unearthly lustrous in the yellow rays, hesitated to agree +to the request because it was hers. Marta was not so near hysteria +that she did not divine his thought.</p> +<p>"Has it got on your nerves, too?" she inquired. "Are you, too, +afraid?"</p> +<p>"No, I'm not afraid!" replied Bouchard irritably. "But aren't +you afraid to be left alone in the dark? I'll take you back to the +sitting-room and you can wait there," he added with a show of +gallantry, which she improved on with a flattering if scared +smile.</p> +<p>"I'm not afraid with you between me and the dungeons," she said. +"I'll hold my ground. Don't think me altogether a craven."</p> +<p>"Very well," was all that he could say. "I came to see the +dungeons, and I'll see them!"</p> +<p>After the lantern flame grew fainter and finally disappeared +around a bend, Marta emitted a peculiar, squeaky little laugh. It +sounded to her as if her own ghost—the ghost of her former +self—were laughing in satire. There was a devilish, +mischievous joy in battling to outwit Bouchard more than in her +deceit of Westerling. Satire, yes—needle-pointed, +acid-tipped! Melodrama done in burlesque, too. In the name of the +noble art of war, a bit of fooling about ghosts in a tunnel might +influence the fate of armies that were the last word in modern +equipment. And men played at killing with a grand front of martial +dignity, when such a little thing could turn the balance of +slaughter! The ghosts in the dungeons seemed about as real as +anything, except the childishness of adult humanity in organized +mass. She laughed again, this time very softly, as she moved away +from the panel door a few steps farther along the wall toward the +entrance and again leaned back for support.</p> +<p>She had to wait a half-hour before she saw a yellow flame +reappear and heard the dully echoing steps of Bouchard approaching. +That tiny push-button on the panel, of the color of stone, was in +the shadow of her figure against the lantern's rays, which gave a +glazed and haunted effect to Bouchard's eyes, rolling as he studied +the walls and ceiling and floor of the tunnel in final baffled and +desperate inquiry.</p> +<p>"Did you see anything? Did you go into all the dungeons?" Marta +called to him.</p> +<p>Bouchard did not answer. Perhaps he was too full of disgust for +words. Marta, however, had plenty of words in her impatience for +knowledge.</p> +<p>"If there were you must have caught them with a quick +strangle-hold. Or, did you see one and not dare to go on? Tell me! +tell me!" she insisted when he stopped before her, his expression a +strange mixture of defiance and dissatisfaction while he was +searching the wall around her figure. Before his eye had any +inclination to look as far away from her as the button she stepped +free of the wall and laid her hand on Bouchard's arm. "I can't +wait! I've nearly perished of suspense!" she cried. "I'm just dying +to know what you found. Please tell me!"</p> +<p>Meanwhile, she was looking into his eyes, which were eagerly +devouring the spot that her figure had hidden. He saw nothing but +bare stone. Marta slipped her hand behind her and began brushing +her back.</p> +<p>"My gown must be a sight!" she exclaimed. "But I do believe you +saw a ghost and that he struck you speechless!"</p> +<p>"No!" exploded Bouchard. "No, I saw nothing!"</p> +<p>"Nothing!" she repeated. She half turned to go. He passed by her +with the lantern, while she kept to the side of the wall which held +the button, covering it with her shadow successfully. "Nothing! No +bones, no skulls—not even any anklets fastened by chains to +the clammy, wet stones?"</p> +<p>"Yes, just an ordinary set of Middle Age dungeons and some +staples in the walls!" he grumbled.</p> +<p>This was no news to her as, with Minna for company, she had +explored all the underground passages.</p> +<p>"Wonderful! I suppose a little courage will always lay ghosts!" +She even found it difficult to conceal a note of triumph in her +tone, for the button was now well behind them. "It's all right, +Minna; there aren't any ghosts!" she called as they entered the +sitting-room. And Minna, in the kitchen, covered her mouth lest she +should scream for joy.</p> +<p>"Thank you!" said Bouchard grudgingly as Marta saw him to the +door.</p> +<p>"On the contrary, thank you! It was such fun—if I hadn't +been so scared," replied Marta, and their gaze held each other fast +in a challenge, hers beaming good nature and his saturnine in its +rebuff and a hound-like tenacity of purpose, saying plainly that +his suspicions were not yet laid.</p> +<p>When Bouchard returned to his desk he guessed the contents of +the note awaiting him, but he took a long time to read its +stereotyped expressions in transferring him to perfunctory duty +well to the rear of the army. Then he pulled himself together and, +leaden-hearted, settled down to arrange routine details for his +departure, while the rest of the staff was immersed in the activity +of the preparations for the attack on Engadir. He knew that he +could not sleep if he lay down. So he spent the night at work. In +the morning his successor, a young man whom he himself had chosen +and trained, Colonel Bellini, appeared, and the fallen man received +the rising man with forced official courtesy.</p> +<p>"In my own defence and for your aid," he said, "I show you a +copy of what I have just written to General Westerling."</p> +<p>A brief note it was, in farewell, beginning with conventional +thanks for Westerling's confidence in the past.</p> +<p>"I am punished for being right," it concluded. "It is my belief +that Miss Galland sends news to the enemy and that she draws it +from you without your consciousness of the fact. I tell you +honestly. Do what you will with me."</p> +<p>It took more courage than any act of his life for the loyal +Bouchard to dare such candor to a superior. Seeing the patchy, +yellow, bloodless face drawn in stiff lines and the abysmal stare +of the deep-set eyes in their bony recesses, Bellini was swept with +a wave of sympathy.</p> +<p>"Thank you, Bouchard. You've been very fine!" said Bellini as he +grasped Bouchard's hand, which was icy cold.</p> +<p>"My duty—my duty, in the hope that we shall kill two +Browns for every Gray who has fallen—that we shall yet see +them starved and besieged and crying for mercy in their capital," +replied Bouchard. He saluted with a dismal, urgent formality and +stalked out of the room with the tread of the ghost of Hamlet's +father.</p> +<p>The strange impression that this farewell left with Bellini +still lingered when, a few moments later, Westerling summoned him. +Not alone the diffidence of a new member of the staff going into +the Presence accounted for the stir in his temples, as he waited +till some papers were signed before he had Westerling's attention. +Then Westerling picked up Bouchard's note and shook his head +sadly.</p> +<p>"Poor Bouchard! You can see for yourself," and he handed the +note to Bellini. "I should have realized earlier that it was a case +for the doctor and not for reprimand. Mad! Poor Bouchard! He hadn't +the ability or the resiliency of mind for his task, as I hope you +have, colonel."</p> +<p>"I hope so, sir," replied Bellini.</p> +<p>"I've no doubt you have," said Westerling. "You are my +choice!"</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XXXIX' id="XXXIX"></a> +<h2>XXXIX</h2> +<h3>A CHANGE OF PLAN</h3> +<br> +<p>That day and the next Westerling had no time fix strolling in +the garden. His only exercise was a few periods of pacing on the +veranda. Turcas, as tirelessly industrious as ever, developed an +increasingly quiet insistence to leave the responsibility of +decisions about everything of importance to a chief who was +becoming increasingly arbitrary. The attack on Engadir being the +jewel of Westerling's own planning, he was disinclined to risk +success by delegating authority, which also meant sharing the glory +of victory.</p> +<p>Bouchard's note, though officially dismissed as a matter of +pathology, would not accept dismissal privately. In flashes of +distinctness it recurred to him between reports of the progress of +preparations and directions as to dispositions. At dusk of the +second day, when all the guns and troops had their places for the +final movement under cover of darkness and he rose from his desk, +the thing that had edged its way into a crowded mind took +possession of the premises that strategy and tactics had vacated. +It passed under the same analysis as his work. His overweening +pride, so sensitive to the suspicion of a conviction that he had +been fooled, put his relations with Marta in logical review.</p> +<p>He had fallen in love in the midst of war. This fact was +something that his egoism must resent. Any woman who had struck +such a response in him as she had must have great depths. Had she +depths that he had not fathomed? He recalled her sudden change of +attitude toward war, her conversion to the cause of the Grays, and +her charm in this as in all their relations.</p> +<p>Was it conceivable that the change was not due to a personal +feeling for him? Was her charm a charm with a purpose? Had he, the +chief of staff, been beguiled into making a woman his confidant in +military secrets? Just what had he told her? He could not recollect +anything definite and recollection was the more difficult because +he could not call to mind a single pertinent military question that +she had ever asked him. Such information as he might have imparted +had been incidental to their talks.</p> +<p>He had enveloped her in glamour; his most preciously trained +mental qualities lapsed in her presence. It was time that she was +regarded impersonally, as a woman, by the critical eye of the chief +of staff. A cool and intense impatience possessed him to study her +in the light Of his new scepticism, when, turning the path of the +first terrace, he saw her watching the sunset over the crest of the +range.</p> +<p>She was standing quite still, a slim, soft shadow between him +and the light, which gilded her figure and quarter profile. Did she +expect him? he wondered. Was she posing at that instant for his +benefit? And the answer, could he have searched her secret brain, +was, Yes—yes, if the conscious and the subconscious mind are +to be considered as one responsible intelligence. He usually came +at that hour. But he had not come last night. They had not met +since Bouchard's ghost hunt.</p> +<p>There was no firing near by; only desultory artillery practice +in the distance. She heard the familiar crunch of five against +three on the gravel. She knew that he had stopped at the turn of +the path, and she was certain that he was looking at her! But she +did not make the slightest movement. The golden light continued to +caress her profile. Then, crunch, crunch, rather slowly, the five +against three drew nearer. The delay had been welcome; it had been +to her a moment's respite to get her breath before entering the +lists. When she turned, her face in the shadow, the glow of the +sunset seemed to remain in her eyes, otherwise without expression, +yet able to detect something unusual under externals as they +exchanged commonplaces of greeting.</p> +<p>"Well, there's a change in our official family. We have lost +Bouchard—transferred to another post!" said Westerling.</p> +<p>Marta noted that, though he gave the news a casual turn, his +scrutiny sharpened.</p> +<p>"Is that so? I can't say that my mother and I shall be sorry," +she remarked. "He was always glaring at us as if he wished us out +of his sight. Indeed, if he had his way, I think he would have made +us prisoners of war. Wasn't he a woman-hater?" she concluded, half +in irritation, half in amusement.</p> +<p>"He had that reputation," said Westerling. "What do you think +led to his departure?" he continued.</p> +<p>"I confess I cannot guess!" said Marta, with a look at the +sunset glow as if she resented the loss of a minute of it.</p> +<p>"There has been a leak of information to the Browns!" he +announced.</p> +<p>"There has! And he was intelligence officer, wasn't he?" she +asked, turning to Westerling, her curiosity apparently roused as a +matter of courtesy to his own interest in the subject.</p> +<p>"Who do you think he accused? Why, <i>you</i>," he added, with a +peculiar laugh.</p> +<p>She noted the peculiarity of the laugh discriminatingly.</p> +<p>"Oh!" Her eyes opened wide in wonder—only wonder, at +first. Then, as comprehension took the place of wonder, they grew +sympathetic. "That explains!" she exclaimed. "His hateful glances +were those of delusion. He was going mad, you mean?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Westerling, "that—that would explain it!"</p> +<p>"I have been told that when people go mad they always ascribe +every injury done to them to the person who happens to have excited +their dislike," she mused.</p> +<p>"Which seems to have been the case here," Westerling assented. +He did not know what else to say.</p> +<p>"It was the strain of war, wasn't it?" Marta proceeded +thoughtfully. "I notice that all the staff-officers are showing it; +that is," she added on second thought, quite literally, as she +regarded him for an instant of silence, "all except you. You remain +the same, calm and decisive." There she looked away with a flutter +of her lashes, as if she were shamed at having allowed herself to +be caught in open admiration of him. "Look! The last effulgence of +rose!" she went on hurriedly about the sunset. "Why shouldn't we +think of the sky as heaven, as Nirvana? What better immortality +than to be absorbed into that?"</p> +<p>"None!" he agreed, but he was looking at her rather than at the +sky. His pride was recovering its natural confidence in the +infallibility of his judgment of human beings. He was seeing his +suspicions as ridiculous enough to convict him of a brain as +disordered as Bouchard's.</p> +<p>Marta was thinking that she had been skating on very thin ice +and that she must go on skating till she broke through. There was +an exhilaration about it that she could not resist: the +exhilaration of risk and the control of her faculties, prompted by +a purpose hypnotically compelling. Both were silent, she watching +the sky, he in anticipation and suspense. The rose went violet and +the shadows over the range deepened.</p> +<p>"The guns and the troops wait. With darkness the music begins!" +he said slowly, with a sort of stern fervor.</p> +<p>"The music—the music! He calls it music!" ran through +Marta's mind mockingly, but she did not open her lips.</p> +<p>"According to my plan—and your plan!" he added.</p> +<p>"My plan—my plan!" she thought. Her plan that was to send +men into a shambles!</p> +<p>"They wait, ready, every detail arranged," he continued +proudly.</p> +<p>The violet melted into an inky blue; silence, vast, heavy, +prevailed—silence where the millions lay on their arms. Even +the guns in the distance had ceased their echoing rumble. He felt +the power of her presence and of the moment. It was she who had +given the information that had enabled him to confound the +scepticism of the staff by the easy taking of Bordir. Through her +he might repeat Bordir in a larger way at Engadir, proving his +theories of frontal attack. His courage of initiative would shine +out against the background of his staff's scepticism as a light to +the world's imagination. The first great man in forty years; the +genius of the new system of tactics to meet the demands of a new +age as Napoleon had met those of his, Grant of his, and Von Moltke +of his! Engadir taken, and his place on Valhalla would be +secure.</p> +<p>The very silence with its taut expectancy was of his planning. +Alone with her he waited for the thunders of his planning that were +to break it. The sky merged into the shadows of the landscape that +spread and thickened into blackness. Out of the drawn curtains of +night broke an ugly flash and farther up the slope spread the +explosive circle of light of a bursting shell.</p> +<p>"The signal!" he exclaimed.</p> +<p>Right and left the blasts spread along the Gray lines and right +and left, on the instant, the Browns sent their blasts in reply. +Countless tongues of flame seemed to burst from countless craters, +and the range to rock in a torment of crashes. In the intervening +space between the ugly, savage gusts from the Gray gun mouths, +which sent their shells from the midst of exploding Brown shells, +swept the beams of the Brown search-lights, their rays lost like +sunlight in the vortex of an open furnace door.</p> +<p>"Splendid! splendid!" exclaimed Westerling, in a sweep of +emotion at the sight that had been born of his command. "Five +thousand guns on our side alone! The world has never seen the equal +of this!"</p> +<p>"Five thousand guns!" Marta was thinking. What wouldn't their +cost have bought in books, in gardens, and in playgrounds! Every +shot the price of a year's schooling for a child!</p> +<p>"You see, we are pounding them along the whole frontier quite +impartially, so they shall not know where we are going to press +home the attack!" he continued.</p> +<p>"But they do know! I've told them!" shot the burning arrow of +mockery through Marta's brain.</p> +<p>"Their search-lights are watching for the infantry—and we +shall press the infantry forward, too," he added; "everywhere we +make a show of fight!"</p> +<p>Then it occurred vividly to her, as a sudden discovery in the +midst of the blinding display, that this was not a kind of chaos +like that of the beginning of the world, not nature's own elemental +debauch, but men firing guns and men waiting for the charge under +that spray of death-dealing missiles.</p> +<p>"Splendid! splendid!" he repeated.</p> +<p>Marta looked away from the range to his face, very distinct in +the garish illumination. It was the face of a maestro of war seeing +all his rehearsals and all his labors come true in symphonic +gratification to the eye and ear; the face of a man of trained +mind, the product of civilization, with the elation of a party +leader on the floor of a parliament in a crisis.</p> +<p>"Soon, now!" said Westerling, and looked at his watch.</p> +<p>Shortly, in the direction of Engadir, to the rear of the steady +flashes broke forth line after line of flashes as the long-range +batteries, which so far had been silent, joined their mightier +voices to the chorus, making a continuous leaping burst of +explosions over the Brown positions, which were the real object of +the attack.</p> +<p>"The moment I've lived for!" exclaimed Westerling. "Our infantry +is starting up the apron of Engadir! We held back the fire of the +heavy guns concentrated for the purpose of supporting the men with +an outburst. Three hundred heavy guns pouring in their shells on a +space of two acres! We're tearing their redoubts to pieces! They +can't see to fire! They can't live under it! They're in the crater +of a volcano! When our infantry is on the edge of the wreckage the +guns cease. Our infantry crowd in—crowd into the house that +Partow built. He'll find that numbers count; that the power of +modern gun-fire will open the way for infantry in masses to take +and hold vital tactical positions! And—no—no, their +fire in reply is not as strong as I expected."</p> +<p>"Because they are letting you in! It will be strong enough in +due season!" thought Marta in the uncontrollable triumph of +antagonism. Five against three was in his tone and in every line of +his features.</p> +<p>"It's hard for a soldier to leave a sight like this, but the +real news will be awaiting me at my desk," he concluded, adding, as +he turned away: "It's fireworks worth seeing, and if you remain +here I will return to tell you the results."</p> +<p>She had no thought of going. That arc of dreadful lightnings +held her with ghastly fascination. Suddenly all the guns ceased. +Faintly in the distance she heard a tumult of human voices in the +high notes of a savage cheer; the rattling din of rifles; the +purring of automatics; and then, except for the firefly flashes of +scattered shots around Engadir, silence and darkness. But she knew +that chaos would soon be loosed again—chaos and murder, which +were the product of her own chicanery. The Grays would find +themselves in the trap of Partow's and Lanny's planning.</p> +<p>Turning her back to the range for the moment, she saw the +twinkle of the lights of the town and the threads of light of the +wagon-trains and the sweep of the lights of the railroad trains on +the plain; while in the foreground every window of the house was +ablaze, like some factory on a busy night shift. She could hear the +click of the telegraph instruments already reporting the details of +the action as cheerfully as Brobdingnagian crickets in their +peaceful surroundings. Then out of the shadows Westerling +reappeared.</p> +<p>"The apron of Engadir is ours!" he called. "Thanks to you!" he +added with pointed emphasis. Back in the house he had received +congratulations with a nod, as if success were a matter of course. +Before her, exultation unbent stiffness, and he was hoarsely +triumphant and eager. "It's plain sailing now," he went on. "A +break in the main line! We have only to drive home the wedge, and +then—and then!" he concluded.</p> +<p>She felt him close, his breath on her cheek.</p> +<p>"Peace!" she hastened to say, drawing back instinctively.</p> +<p>And then! The irony of the words in the light of her knowledge +was pointed by a terrific renewal of the thunders and the flashes +far up on the range, and she could not resist rejoicing in her +heart.</p> +<p>"That's the Browns!" exclaimed Westerling in surprise.</p> +<p>The volume of fire increased. With the rest of the frontier in +darkness, the Engadir section was an isolated blaze. In its light +she saw his features, without alarm but hardening in dogged +intensity.</p> +<p>"They've awakened to what they have lost! They have been rushing +up reserves and are making a counter-attack. We must hold what we +have gained, no matter what the cost!"</p> +<p>His last sentence was spoken over his shoulder as he started for +the house.</p> +<p>Thus more fire called for more fire; more murder for more +murder, she thought. Her mind was projected into the thick of the +battle. She saw a panic of Grays caught in their triumph; of +wounded men writhing and crawling over their dead comrades, their +position shown to the marksmen by a search-light's glare. The dead +grew thicker; their glassy eyes were staring at her in reproach. +She heard the hoarse and straining voices of the Browns in their +"God with us!" through the din of automatics. Men snuggled for +cover amidst torn flesh and red-tinged mud in the trenches, and +other men trampled them in fiendish risk of life to take more +lives.</p> +<p>Without changing her position, hardly turning her head, she +watched until the firing began to lessen rapidly. Then she +breathed, "Engadir must be ours again!" and realized that she was +weak and faint. Suspense had sapped her strength. She sought a seat +in the arbor, where the nervous force of other thoughts revived +her. What would Westerling say when he found that her information +had led his men into a trap—when staff scepticism was proven +right and he a false prophet?</p> +<p>From the house came the confused sound of voices in puzzling +chorus. It was not a cheer. It had the quality of a rapid fire of +jubilant exclamation as a piece of news was passed from lip to lip. +Then she heard that step which she knew so well. Sensitive ears +noted that it touched the gravel with unusual energy and quickness, +which she thought must be due to vexation over the repulse. She +rose to face him, summoning back the spirit of the actress.</p> +<p>"This is better yet! I came to tell you that the counter-attack +failed!" he said as he saw her appear from the shelter of the +arbor.</p> +<p>She wondered if she were going to fall. But the post of the +trellis was within reach. She caught hold of it to steady herself. +Failed! All her acting had served only to make such a trap for the +Browns as Lanny had planned for the Grays! She was grateful for the +darkness that hid her face, which was incapable of any expression +now but blank despair. Westerling's figure loomed very large to her +as she regained her self-possession—large, dominant, +unconquerable in the suggestion of five against three. And +felicitations were due! She drew away from the post, swaying and +trembling, nerves and body not yet under command of mind. She could +not force her tongue to so false a sentiment as congratulation.</p> +<p>"The killing—it must have been terrible!" her mind at last +made her exclaim to cover her tardiness of response to his +mood.</p> +<p>"You thought of that—as you should—as I do!" he +said.</p> +<p>He took her hands in his, pulsing warm with the flowing red of +his strength. She let them remain lifelessly, as if she had not the +will to take them away, the instinct of her part again dominant. To +him this was another victory, and it was discovery—the +discovery of melting weakness in her for the first time, which +magnified his sense of masculine power. He tightened his grip +slightly and she shuddered.</p> +<p>"You are tired!" he said, and it hurt her that he could be so +considerate.</p> +<p>"The killing—to end that! It's that I want!" she breathed +miserably.</p> +<p>"And the end is near!" he said. "Yes, now, thanks to you!"</p> +<p>Thanks to her! And she must listen and submit to his touch!</p> +<p>"The engineers and material were ready to go in," he continued. +"Before morning, as I had planned, we shall be so well fortified in +the position that nothing can budge us. This success so strengthens +my power with the staff and the premier that I need not wait on +Fabian tactics. I am supreme. I shall make the most of the +demoralization of this blow to the enemy. I shall not wait on slow +approaches in the hope of saving life. To-morrow I shall attack and +keep on attacking till all the main line is ours."</p> +<p>"Now you are playing your real part, the conqueror!" she thought +gladly. "Your kind of peace is the ruin of another people; the +peace of a helpless enemy. That is better"—better for her +conscience. Unwittingly, she allowed her hands to remain in his. In +the paralysis of despair she was unconscious that she had hands. +She felt that she could endure anything to retrieve the error into +which she had been the means of leading the Browns. And the +killing—it would not stop, she knew. No, the Browns would not +yield until they were decimated.</p> +<p>"We have the numbers to spare. Numbers shall press +home—home to terms in their capital!" Westerling's voice grew +husky as he proceeded, harsh as orders to soldiers who hesitated in +face of fire. "After that—after that"—the tone changed +from harshness to desire, which was still the desire of +possession—"the fruits of peace, a triumph that I want you to +share!" He was drawing her toward him with an impulse of the force +of this desire, when she broke free with an abrupt, struggling +pull.</p> +<p>"Not that! Not that! Your work is not yet done!" she cried.</p> +<p>He made a move as if to persist, then fell back with a gesture +of understanding.</p> +<p>"Right! Hold me to it!" he exclaimed resolutely. "Hold me to the +bargain! So a woman worth while should hold a man worth while."</p> +<p>"Yes!" she managed to say, and turned to go in a sudden impetus +of energy. His egoism might ascribe her precipitancy to a fear of +succumbing to the tenderness which he thought that she felt for +him, when her one wish was to be free of him; her one rallying and +tempestuous purpose of the moment to reach the telephone.</p> +<p>Mrs. Galland and Minna saw her ghostlike as she passed through +the living-room, their startled questions unheeded. Could it be +true that she had betrayed every decent attribute of a woman in +vain? Why had the counter-attack failed? Because Westerling had +been too strong, too clever, for old Partow? Because God was still +with the heaviest battalions? Half running, half stumbling, the +light of the lantern bobbing and trembling weirdly, she hastened +through the tunnel. Usually the time from taking the receiver down +till Lanny replied was only a half minute. Now she waited what +seemed many minutes without response. Had the connection been +broken? To make sure that her impatience was not tricking her she +began to count off the seconds. Then she heard Lanstron's voice, +broken and hoarse:</p> +<p>"Marta, Marta, he is dead! Partow is dead!"</p> +<p>Recovering himself, Lanstron told the story of Partow's going, +which was in keeping with his life and his prayers. As the doctor +put it, the light of his mind, turned on full voltage to the last, +went out without a flicker. Through the day he had attended to the +dispositions for receiving the Grays' attack, enlivening routine as +usual with flashes of humor and reflection ranging beyond the +details in hand. An hour or so before dark he had reached across +the table and laid his big, soft palm on the back of Lanstron's +hand. He was thinking aloud, a habit of his, in Lanstron's company, +when an idea requiring gestation came to him.</p> +<p>"My boy, it is not fatal if we lose the apron of Engadir. The +defences behind it are very strong."</p> +<p>"No, not fatal," Lanstron agreed. "But it's very important."</p> +<p>"And Westerling will think it fatal. Yes, I understand his +character. Yes—yes; and if our counter-attack should fail, +then Miss Galland's position would be secure. Hm-m-m—those +whom the gods would destroy—hm-m-m. Westerling will be +convinced that repeated, overwhelming attacks will gain our main +line. Instead of using engineering approaches, he will throw his +battalions, masses upon masses, against our works until his +strength is spent. It would be baiting the bull. A risk—a +risk—but, my boy, I am going to—"</p> +<p>Partow's head, which was bent in thought, dropped with a jerk. A +convulsion shook him and he fell forward onto the map, his brave +old heart in its last flutter, and Lanstron was alone in the silent +room with the dead and his responsibility.</p> +<p>"The order that I knew he was about to speak, Marta, I gave for +him," Lanstron concluded. "It seemed to me an inspiration—his +last inspiration—to make the counter-attack a feint."</p> +<p>"And you're acting chief of staff, Lanny? You against +Westerling?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XL' id="XL"></a> +<h2>XL</h2> +<h3>WITH FRACASSE'S MEN</h3> +<br> +<p>We have heard nothing of Jacob Pilzer, the butcher's son, and +Peterkin, the valet's son, and others of Fracasse's company of the +128th of the Grays since Hugo Mallin threw down his rifle when they +were firing on scattered Brown soldiers in retreat.</p> +<p>It was in one of the minor actions of the step-by-step advance +after the taking of the Galland house that the judge's son received +official notice of a holiday in the form of a nickel pellet from +the Browns which made a clean, straight hole the size of a lead +pencil through his flesh and then went singing on its way without +deflection, as if it liked to give respites from travail to tired +soldiers.</p> +<p>"Grazed the ribs—no arteries!" remarked the examining +surgeon. "You'll be well in a month."</p> +<p>"We'll hold the war for you!" called the banker's son cheerily +after the still figure on the stretcher.</p> +<p>"And you'll get gruel and custards, maybe," said the barber's +son. "I like custards."</p> +<p>Once the judge's son had thought that nothing could be so grand +as to be wounded fighting for one's country. He had in mind then, +as the object of his boyish admiration, a young officer returned +from a little campaign against the blacks in Africa, when, the +casualties being few and the scene distant and picturesque, all +heroes with scars had an aspect of romantic exclusiveness. But +there was no more distinction now in being wounded than in catching +cold. Truly, colonial wars were the only satisfactory kind.</p> +<p>The judge's son found himself one of many men on cots in long +rows in the former barracks of the Browns near La Tir. Daily +bulletins told the patients the names of the positions taken and +daily they heard of fresh batches of wounded arriving, which were +not mentioned on the bulletin-board.</p> +<p>"We continue to win," said the doctors and nurses invariably in +answer to all questions. "General Westerling announces that +everything is going as planned."</p> +<p>"You must know that speech well!" observed the judge's son to +the nurse of his section.</p> +<p>Her lips twitched in a kind of smile.</p> +<p>"Letter-perfect!" she replied "It's official."</p> +<p>In two weeks, so fast had the puncture from the aseptic little +pellet of civilized warfare healed under civilization's medical +treatment, the judge's son was up and about, though very weak. But +the rules strictly confined his promenades to the barracks yard. +There might be news coming down the traffic-gorged castle road out +of the region where the guns sounded that convalescents were not +intended to hear. For news could travel in other ways than by +bulletin-boards; and the judge's son, merely watching the faces of +medical officers, guessed that it was depressing. But after the +first attack on Engadir their faces lighted. The very thrill of +victory seemed to be in the air.</p> +<p>"It's in the main line of defence!" called the doctor on his +morning rounds of the cots. "They've made Westerling a +field-marshal. He's outwitted the Browns! In a few days now we'll +have the range!"</p> +<p>How staggering was the cost he was not to realize till later, +when the ambulance stewards kept repeating:</p> +<p>"More to come!"</p> +<p>A newcomer, who took the place of a man who had died on the cot +next to the judge's son, had been in the fight. He was still +ether-sick and weak from the amputation of his right arm, with a +dazed, glassy, and far-away look in his eyes, as if everything in +the world was strange and uncertain.</p> +<p>"The fearful flashes—the explosions—the gusts of +steel in the air!" he whispered.</p> +<p>The next night Westerling followed up his supposed advantage at +Engadir as he had planned, and there was no sleep for the thunders +and the light of the explosions through the barracks-room +windows.</p> +<p>"I can see what is happening and feel—and feel!" said the +man who had been at Engadir.</p> +<p>In the morning the bulletin announced that more positions were +taken, with very heavy losses—to the enemy. But the news that +travelled unofficially from tongue to tongue down the castle road +and spoke in the faces of doctors and nurses said, "And to us!" +plainly enough, even if the judge's son had not heard a doctor +remark:</p> +<p>"It's awful—inconceivable! Not a hospital tent in this +division is unoccupied. Most of the houses in town are full, and +we're preparing for another grand attack!"</p> +<p>Now for two days the guns kept up their roar.</p> +<p>"Making ready for the infantry to go in," ran the talk around +the barracks yard.</p> +<p>After the infantry had gone in and the result was known, the +doctor on his morning round said to the judge's son:</p> +<p>"You're pretty pale yet, but you'll do. We must make room for a +big crowd that is coming and the orders are to get every man who is +in any condition to fight to the front."</p> +<p>"And if I get another hole in me you'll patch me up again?"</p> +<p>"Get any number and we'll patch you up if they're in the right +place," was the answer. "But be careful about that detail."</p> +<p>Soon the judge's son was with a score of convalescents who were +marched down to the town, where they formed in column with other +detachments.</p> +<p>"Not with that cough!" exclaimed a doctor as they were about to +start, ordering a man out of line. "You'd never get to the front. +You'd only have to be brought back in an ambulance."</p> +<p>An enlightening march this for the judge's son from hospital to +trenches, moving with a tide of loaded commissariat wagons and +empty ambulances and passing a tide of loaded ambulances and empty +commissariat wagons. A like scene was on every road to the front; a +like scene on every vista of landscape along any part of the +frontier. All trees and bushes and walls and buildings that would +give cover to the enemy the Browns had razed. On every point of +rising ground were the trenches and redoubts that the Browns had +yielded after their purpose of making the Grays earn their way by +trenches of their own had been served. The fields were trampled by +the feet of infantry, cut by gun wheels, ploughed by shells, and +sown with the conical nickel pellets from rifles and the round lead +bullets of shrapnel. An escarpment of rock, where the road-bed was +slashed into a hillside in a sharp turn, struck by the concentrated +fire of automatics, appeared to have been beaten by thousands of +sharp-headed hammers, leaving a pile of chips and dust.</p> +<p>The traffic of the main roads spread into branch roads which +ended in the ganglia of supply depots, all kept in touch by the +network of wires focussing through different headquarters to +Westerling. In this conquered territory with its face of desolation +there were no fighting men except reserves or convalescents on +their way to the front. All the rest were wounded or dead or +occupied in the routine of supply and intelligence. The +organization which had been drilled through two generations of +peace for this emergency exhibited the signs of pressure.</p> +<p>Eyes that met when commands were given and received were dull +from want of sleep or hectically bright as a hypochondriac's. +Voices spoke in a grim, tired monotone, broken by sudden flashes of +irritation or eruptions of anger. Features were drawn like those of +rowers against a tide. The very proportions of the ghastly harvest +after the last, the heaviest of all, of the attacks brought spasms +of nausea to men already hardened to blood and death. If the +officers of the staffs in their official conspiracy of silence +would not talk, the privates and the wounded would. The judge's +son, observing, listening, thinking, was gathering a story to tell +his comrades of Company B of the 128th.</p> +<p>That night he and his comrade convalescents slept in the open. +Their bodies were huddled close together under their blankets for +warmth, while aching limbs twitched from the fatigue of the march. +The morning showed that others had coughs which should have kept +them from the front.</p> +<p>"Four or five cases of pneumonia due in that lot!" a doctor +remarked to a hospital-corps sergeant. "Put them in empties right +away."</p> +<p>After this announcement other coughs developed. Amusing, these +sudden, purposeful efforts should one happen to think of them in +that way. But no one did.</p> +<p>"No you don't, you malingerers!" said the doctor sharply. "I've +been at this business long enough to know a real cough."</p> +<p>Now the judge's son and a dozen others were separated from the +rest of their companions and started over a hill. From the top they +had a broad view. Across a strip of valley lay the main rise to the +heights of the range. Along the summit nothing warlike was visible +except the irregular landscape against the horizon. There the enemy +rested in his fortifications. The slopes, as far as the judge's son +could see on either hand, were like the warrens of an overpopulated +rabbit world in hiding. Here was the army of the Grays in its +redoubts and trenches A thousand times as many men as were ever at +work on the Panama Canal had been digging their way +forward—digging regardless of union hours; digging to save +their own lives and to take lives. And the nearer they came to the +top of the range the deeper they had to dig and the slower their +progress.</p> +<p>As the little group of convalescents descended into a valley a +bursting shell from the Browns scattered its fragments over the +earth near by.</p> +<p>"They drop one occasionally, though they don't expect to get +more than a man or two by chance, which is hardly worth the cost of +the charge," some one explained. "You see that they must know just +what our positions are from their understanding of our army's +organization, and the purpose is to bother us about bringing up +supplies and reserves. Start a commissariat train or a company in +close order across, and—whew! The air screams!"</p> +<p>Once on the other side of the valley, and the maze of zigzags +and parallels leading into the warrens was simplified by signs +indicating the location of regiments. At length the judge's son +found himself in the home cave of his own tribe. His comrades were +resting at the noon-hour, their backs against the wall of their +shell-proof. In the faint light their faces were as gray as the +dust on the dirty uniforms that hung on their gaunt bodies. Dust +was caked in the seams around their eyes; their cheeks were covered +with dusty beards. Their greeting of the returned absentee was that +of men who had passed through a strain that left existence +untouched by the spring of average sensations.</p> +<p>"Did you get the custards?" asked the barber's son in a squeaky +voice.</p> +<p>"No, but I got a jelly once—only once!"</p> +<p>"Snob!" said the barber's son.</p> +<p>"Jelly! I could eat a hogshead of jelly and still be empty! What +I want is fresh meat!" growled Pilzer, the butcher's son.</p> +<p>"A hogshead of jelly might be good to bathe in!" said the +banker's son. "I haven't had a bath for a month."</p> +<p>"I have. I turned my underclothes inside out!" said the barber's +son. He was aiming to take Hugo's place as humorist, in the +confidence of one sprung from a talkative family.</p> +<p>Scanning the faces, the judge's son found many new +ones—those of the older reservists—while many of the +faces of barrack days were missing.</p> +<p>"Whom have we lost?" he asked.</p> +<p>The answer, given with dull matter-of-factness, revealed that, +of the group that had talked so light-heartedly of war six weeks +before, only little Peterkin, the valet's son, and Pilzer, the +butcher's son, and the barber's and the banker's sons survived. +They were sitting in a row, from the instinct that makes old +associates keep together even though they continually quarrel. The +striking thing was that Peterkin looked the most cheerful and +well-kept of the four. As the proud possessor of a pair of +scissors, he had trimmed a surprisingly heavy beard Van Dyck +fashion, which emphasized his peaked features and a certain +consciousness of superiority; while the barber's son sported only a +few scraggly hairs. The scant, reddish product of Pilzer's cheeks, +leaving bare the liver patch, only accentuated its repulsiveness +and a savagery in his voice and look which was no longer latent +under the conventional discipline of every-day existence. The +company had not been in the first Engadir assault, but, being near +the Engadir position, had suffered heavily in support.</p> +<p>"You were in the big attack night before last?" asked the +judge's son.</p> +<p>"We started in," said Peterkin, "but Captain Fracasse brought us +back," he added in a way that implied that only orders had kept him +from going on.</p> +<p>Peterkin, the trembling little Peterkin of the baptismal charge +across the line of white posts, had been the first out of the +redoubt on to the glacis in that abortive effort, living up to the +bronze cross on his breast. He was one of the half dozen out of the +score that had started to return alive. The psychology of war had +transformed his gallantry; it had passed from simulation to +reality, thanks to his established conviction that he led a charmed +life. Little Peterkin, always pale but never getting paler, was +ready to lead any forlorn hope. A superstitious nature, which, at +the outset of the war, had convinced him that he must be killed in +the first charge, now, as the result of his survival, gave him all +the faith of Eugene Aronson that the bullet would never be made +that could kill him.</p> +<p>"Was the attack general all along the front?" some one asked. +"We couldn't tell. All we knew was the hell around us."</p> +<p>"Yes," answered the judge's son.</p> +<p>"Did we accomplish anything?"</p> +<p>"A few minor positions, I believe."</p> +<p>"But we will win!" said Peterkin. "The colonel said so."</p> +<p>"And the news—what is the news?" demanded the barber's +son. "You needn't be afraid," he added. "The officers are on the +other side of the redoubt. They get sick of the sight of us and we +of them and this is their recess and ours from the eternal +digging."</p> +<p>"Yes, the news from home!"</p> +<p>"Yes, from home! We don't even get letters any more. They've +shut off all the mails."</p> +<p>"I met a man from our town," said the judge's son. "He said that +after that story was published in the press about Hugo's damning +patriotism and hurrahing for the Browns—it was fearfully +exaggerated—his old father and mother shut themselves up in +the house and would not show their faces for shame. But his +sweetheart, however much her parents stormed, refused to renounce +him. She held her head high and said that the more they abused him +the more she loved him, and she knew he could do nothing +wrong."</p> +<p>"Hugo was not a patriot. It takes red blood to make a patriot!" +said Peterkin. In the pride of heroism and prestige, he was +becoming an oracular enunciator of commonplaces from the lips of +his superiors.</p> +<p>"The absence of any word from the front only increases the +suspense of the people. They do not know whether their sons and +brothers and husbands are living or dead," continued the judge's +son.</p> +<p>"Up to a week ago they let us write," said Pilzer, "though they +wouldn't let us say anything except that we were well."</p> +<p>"That was because it might give information to the enemy," said +Peterkin.</p> +<p>"As if I didn't know that!" grumbled Pilzer. "The enemy seems to +be always ready for us, anyway," he added.</p> +<p>"The chief of staff stopped the letters because he said that +mothers who received none took it for granted that their sons were +dead," explained the judge's son. "Besides, he asserts that +casualties are not heavy and asks for patience in the name of +patriotism."</p> +<p>"The—!" exclaimed Pilzer, referring to Westerling. He who +had set out to be an officers' favorite had become bitter against +all officers, high and low.</p> +<p>Peterkin was speechlessly aghast. The others said nothing. They +were used to Pilzer's oaths and obscenity, with a growing +inclination to profanity on their own part. Besides, they rather +agreed with his view of the chief of staff.</p> +<p>"Did you see many dead and wounded?" asked a very tired voice, +that of one of the older reservists who was emaciated, with a +complexion like blue mould.</p> +<p>"How can I tell you what I saw? Ought I to tell you?"</p> +<p>"When you've had to wipe a piece of brains out of your eye, as I +have—it was warm and jelly-like," said Pilzer, "you ain't as +squeamish as Hugo Mallin. I wonder they don't give him a bronze +cross!"</p> +<p>"Bronze crosses are given for bravery in action," said Peterkin +in his new-fashioned parrot way since he had become great. "You +should not do anything to affect the spirit of corps."</p> +<p>"The boy wonder from the butler's pantry! Our dear, natty little +buttons! Bullets glide off him!" snarled Pilzer, who had set out to +win a bronze cross, only to see it won by a pygmy.</p> +<p>"Did you see many dead and wounded?" persisted the very tired +voice of the old reservist.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes—and every kind of destruction!" answered the +judge's son. "And—I kept thinking of Hugo Mallin."</p> +<p>"I'm glad they didn't shoot Hugo," said the very tired voice. +"I'm sorry for his old father and mother. I'm a father myself."</p> +<p>"I certainly had a good farewell kick at him!" declared Pilzer. +"Lean on yourself!" he added, giving a shove to the old reservist +who was next him.</p> +<p>"I saw men who had ceased to be human. That reminds me, Pilzer," +the judge's son went on, "I saw one wounded man, lying beside +another, turn and strike him, and he said: 'I had to hit somebody +or something!' And I heard a wounded man who was waiting in line +before the surgeon's table say: 'There's others hurt worse than me. +I can wait.' I heard men begging the doctors to put them out of +their misery. I saw two dead men with their hands clasped as they +were when they died. Then there were the men who went mad. One had +to be held by force. He kept crying with demoniacal laughs: 'I want +to go back and kill—kill! Let's all kill, kill, kill!' +Another insisted on dancing, despite a bandaged leg. 'Look, look at +the little red spots!' he was saying. 'You must step on one every +time; if you don't, the automatic will get you!' Another declared +that he had been through hell and insisted that he would live +forever now. Another was an artist, a landscape-painter, who had +lost his eyesight. He was seeing beautiful landscapes, and the +nurses had to strap him to his cot to keep him from struggling to +his feet and trying to use an imaginary brush on imaginary +canvases. He died seeing beautiful landscapes.</p> +<p>"A pretty dreary sight, too, was the field of the dead, as I +called it. As the bodies were brought in they were laid in long +rows, until there was no more room without moving a supply depot. +So there was nothing to do but begin to pile them two deep. A +service-corps man took off each man's metal identification tag and +tossed it into an ammunition box. One box was already full and a +second half full. Chink-chink-chink—tags of the rich man's +son and the poor man's son, the doctor of philosophy and the +illiterate; chink-chink-chink—a life each time. They'll take +the tags to the staff office and tired clerks will find the names +that go with the numbers."</p> +<p>"You cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs," said +Peterkin, quoting high authority. "Some have to be killed."</p> +<p>"The last I heard from home my wife and one of the children were +sick and my employer had gone bankrupt," broke in the very tired +voice rather irrelevantly.</p> +<p>"Yes, my father's last letter was pretty blue about business," +said the banker's son. He was looking at his dirty hands. The odor +of clothes unlaundered for weeks, in which the men had slept, +tortured his sensitive nostrils. "A millionaire and filthy as swine +in a sty!" he exclaimed. "Digging like a navvy in order to get +admission to the abattoir!"</p> +<p>"Were there any reserves coming our way?" asked the barber's +son.</p> +<p>"Yes, masses."</p> +<p>"Perhaps they will relieve us and we'll go into the reserves for +a while," suggested the very tired voice.</p> +<p>"No fear!" growled Pilzer.</p> +<p>"They have called out the old men, the fellows of forty-five to +fifty, who were supposed to be out of it for good," said the +judge's son. "Westerling says they are to guard prisoners and +property when we cross the range and start on the march to the +Browns' capital. Then all the other men can be on the firing-line +and force the war to a mercifully quick end with a minimum loss. I +saw numbers of them just arriving at La Tir, footsore and +limping."</p> +<p>"I know. Mine's been indoor work, making paints," said the very +tired voice. "When you've had long hours in the shop and had to sit +up late with sick babies, you aren't fit for marching. And I think +I've got lead-poisoning."</p> +<p>"Whew!" The judge's son put his hand over his nose as a breeze +sprang up from the direction of the Brown lines.</p> +<p>"I thought we got them all," said the barber's son.</p> +<p>"Must have missed one that was buried by a shell and another +shell must have dug him up!" muttered Pilzer, glaring at the +barber's son. "It's not nice on people with ladylike nostrils. +James, get the <i>eau de cologne</i> and draw his bath for our +plutocrat!"</p> +<p>"You see, something had to be done about the dead between the +redoubts," explained the barber's son, "though the officers on both +sides were against it."</p> +<p>"Naturally. It afforded opportunities for observation," put in +Peterkin, repeating the colonel's words.</p> +<p>"But finally it was agreed to let a dozen from either side go +out without arms," the barber's son concluded.</p> +<p>"I heard there was great complaint from the women," went on the +judge's son. "Women aren't like what they were in the last war. +They want to know what has become of their men-folk. They have been +gathering in crowds and making trouble for the police. One of the +old reservists was telling me of talk of an army of women marching +to the front to learn the truth of the situation."</p> +<p>"If you don't stop leaning on me I'll give you a punch you'll +remember!" exclaimed Pilzer as he rammed his elbow into the old +reservist's ribs.</p> +<p>"I beg pardon! It was because I am tired and sort of +blank-minded," the old reservist explained.</p> +<p>"You brute!" snapped the banker's son to Pilzer.</p> +<p>"Mallin thrashed you once and I've done it once. On my word, +I've a mind to again!"</p> +<p>"No, you don't! No, you can't! And this time your boxing tricks +will do you no good. I'll finish you!"</p> +<p>The two had sprung to their feet with hectic energy: Pilzer's +liver patch a mottled purple in the midst of his curly red beard, +his head lowered in front of his short, thick neck as before a +spring, and the banker's son, lighter and quicker, awaiting the +attack. Some of the others half rose, while the rest looked on in +curiosity mixed with indifference.</p> +<p>"I'll call the captain!" piped Peterkin.</p> +<p>The judge's son stopped Peterkin and put a hand on either of the +adversaries' shoulders.</p> +<p>"Can't we get enough fighting from the Browns without fighting +each other?" he asked.</p> +<p>The banker's son and Pilzer dropped back in their places, in the +reaction of men who had spent their strength in defiance.</p> +<p>"The thick of it last night, I heard, was still at Engadir, +where Westerling is determined to break through," the judge's son +proceeded. "At one point they sent in a regiment with a regiment +covering it from the rear, and the fellows ahead were told that +they wouldn't be allowed to come back alive—just what +occurred at Port Arthur, you know—so they had better take the +position."</p> +<p>"What happened?" asked the very tired voice.</p> +<p>"Those who reached the enemy's works alive were taken +prisoner."</p> +<p>Further talk was interrupted by a volume of voices singing, +which seemed to issue from a cellar not far away. It had the swell +of a hymn of resolute purpose.</p> +<p>"The Browns' song—something new since you were with us," +explained the barber's son to the judge's son.</p> +<p>"Yes, their whole line sung it in the silence of dawn following +last night's repulse," said the banker's son. "Notice the hammer +beat to it and then the earth rumble, like pounding nails in a +coffin box and rattling the earth on top of the box after it is +lowered."</p> +<p>"Yes, and I get the words," said the judge's son, who knew the +language of the Browns: "'God with us, not to take what is theirs, +but to keep what is ours! God with us!'"</p> +<p>"They say some private—Stransky, I believe his name +is—composed the words from a saying of Partow, their chief of +staff, and it spread," put in the very tired voice.</p> +<p>"As it would at a time of high pressure like this, when all +humanity's nerves form an electric circuit," said the judge's son. +"'God with us!' What a power they put into that!"</p> +<p>"But God is with us, not with them!" put in Peterkin earnestly. +"Let's have our song to answer them," he added, striking up the +tune.</p> +<p>So they sung the song they had sung as they started off to the +war—a song about camping in the squares of the Browns' +capital and dining in the Browns' government palace; a hurrahing, +marchy song, but without exactly the snap in keeping with its +character.</p> +<p>"The trouble is that they lie at the mouths of their burrows and +get us naked to their fire," said the banker's son. "We have to +take their positions—they don't try to take ours."</p> +<p>"But we must go on! We can't give up now!" said the barber's +son.</p> +<p>"Yes, we must go on!" agreed some of the others stubbornly.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes," came faintly from the very tired voice.</p> +<p>"We shall win! The aggressive always wins!" declared +Peterkin.</p> +<p>Then the redoubt shook with an explosion and their eyes were +blinded with dust.</p> +<p>"I thought it was about time!" said the barber's son.</p> +<p>"Yes, the—!" snarled Pilzer.</p> +<p>The shell had struck some distance away from where they sat, and +as the dust settled they heard the news of the result:</p> +<p>"One fellow had his arm broken and another had his head +crushed."</p> +<p>"It'll keep us from working on the mine while we mend the +breach," said the barber's son.</p> +<p>While the judge's son was telling the news, the colonel of the +128th and Captain Fracasse were eating their biscuits together and +making occasional remarks rather than holding a conversation.</p> +<p>"Well, Westerling is a field-marshal," said the colonel.</p> +<p>"Yes, he's got something out of it!"</p> +<p>"The men seem to be losing their spirit—there's no doubt +of it!" exclaimed the colonel, more aloud to himself than to +Fracasse, after a while.</p> +<p>"No wonder!" replied Fracasse. Martinet though he was, he spoke +in grumbling loyalty to his soldiers. "What kind of spirit is there +in doing the work of navvies? Spirit! No soldiers ever fought +better—in invasion, at least. Look at our losses! Spirit! +Westerling drives us in. He thinks we can climb Niagara Falls! +He—"</p> +<p>"Stop! You're talking like an anarchist!" snapped the colonel. +"How can the men have spirit when you feel that way?"</p> +<p>"I shall continue to obey orders and do my duty, sir!" replied +Fracasse. "And they will, too, or I'll know the reason why."</p> +<p>There was a silence, but at length the colonel exploded:</p> +<p>"I suppose Westerling knows what he is doing!"</p> +<p>"Still, we must go on! We must win!"</p> +<p>"Yes, the offensive always wins in the end. We must go on!"</p> +<p>"And once we have the range—yes, once we've won one vital +position—the men will recover their enthusiasm and be crying: +'On to the capital!'"</p> +<p>"Right! We were forgetting history. We were forgetting the +volatility of human nature."</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XLI' id="XLI"></a> +<h2>XLI</h2> +<h3>WITH FELLER AND STRANSKY</h3> +<br> +<p>Far up on a peak among the birds and aeroplanes, in a roofed, +shell-proof chamber, with a telephone orderly at his side, a +powerful pair of field-glasses and range-finders at his elbow, and +a telescope before his eye, Gustave Feller, one-time gardener and +now acting colonel of artillery, watched the burst of shells over +the enemy's lines. While other men had grown lean on war, he had +taken on enough flesh to fill out the wrinkles around eyes that +shone with an artist's enjoyment of his work. Down under cover of +the ridge were his guns, the keys of the instrument that he played +by calls over the wire. Their barking was a symphony to his ears; +errors of orchestration were errors in aim. He talked as he +watched, his lively features reflective of his impressions.</p> +<p>"Oh, pretty! Right into their tummies! Right in the nose! La, +la, la! But that's off—and so's that! Tell Battery C they're +fifty yards over. Oh, beady-eyed gods and shiny little +fishes—two smacks in the same spot! Humph! Tell Battery C +that the trouble with that gun is worn rifling; that's why it's +going short. Elevate it for another hundred yards—but it +ought not to wear out so soon. I'd like to kick the maker or the +inspector. The fellows in B 21 will accuse us of inattention. It's +time to drop a shell on them to show we're perfectly impartial in +our favors. La, la, la! Oh, what a pretty smack! +Congratulations!"</p> +<p>B 21 was the position of Fracasse's company and the pretty smack +the one that broke one man's arm and crushed another's head.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>The "God with us!" song was singularly suited to the great, bull +voice of its composer, born to the red and become Captain Stransky +in the red business of war. It was he who led the thunder of its +verses not far from where Peterkin led the song of the Grays.</p> +<p>"I certainly like that song," said Stransky. Well he might. It +had made him famous throughout the nation. "There's Jehovah and +brimstone in it. Now we'll have our own."</p> +<p>"Our own" was also of Stransky's composition and about Dellarme; +for Stransky, child of the highways and byways, of dark, tragic +alleys and sunny fields, had music in him, the music of the people. +The skin on his high cheek-bones was drawn tighter than before, +further exaggerating the size of his nose, and the deeper set of +his eyes gave their cross a more marked character. He carried on +the spirit of Dellarme in the company in his own fashion. The +survivors among his men were as lean and dirty as Fracasse's, but, +never having expected to reach the enemy's capital, war had brought +few illusions. They had known sleepless vigils, but not much +digging since they had fallen back on the main line into the +fortifications which, with all resources at command, the engineers +had built before the war. And the Browns still held the range! The +principal fortifications of Engadir and every other vital point of +the main line was theirs. All that the enemy had gained in his +latest attack were a few minor positions.</p> +<p>"But we're always losing positions!" complained one of the men. +"Little by little they are getting possession."</p> +<p>"They say the offensive always wins," said another.</p> +<p>"Five against three! They count on numbers," said Lieutenant Tom +Fragini.</p> +<p>"There you go, Tom! Any other pessimists or anarchists want to +be heard?" called out Stransky. "Just how long, at the present +rate, will it take them to get the whole range? There's a limit to +the number of even five millions."</p> +<p>"Yes, but if they ever break through in one place and get their +guns up—"</p> +<p>"As you've said before, Tom!"</p> +<p>"As we want to keep saying—as we want to keep fighting our +damnedest to make sure they won't," Tom explained.</p> +<p>"Yes, that's it!" declared a chorus.</p> +<p>"That's it, no matter what we pay!" declared Stransky. "We're +not going back there except in hearses!" He swung his hand in a +semicircle toward the distant hills, gold and purple in their dying +foliage under the autumn sunlight.</p> +<p>Then the telephone in the redoubt brought some news. The staff +begged to inform the army that the enemy's casualties in the last +three days had been two hundred thousand! Immediately everybody was +talking at once in Stransky's parliament, as he sometimes called +that company of which he was, in the final analysis, unlimited +monarch.</p> +<p>"How do they know?"</p> +<p>"Do you think it's fake?"</p> +<p>"That sums up to pretty near a million!"</p> +<p>"My God! Think of it—a million!"</p> +<p>"We're whittling them down!"</p> +<p>"It doesn't make any difference whether Partow or Lanstron is +chief of staff!"</p> +<p>"They're paying!"</p> +<p>"Paying for our fellows that they've killed! Paying for being in +the wrong!"</p> +<p>"Let's have the song again! Come on!"</p> +<p>"Yes, the song! The song!"</p> +<p>"No; hold on!" cried Tom. "Not because men are killed!"</p> +<p>"That's right, that's right!" said Stransky. "After all, they're +our brothers." It was the first time since he had undergone the +transformation which the war had wrought in him that he had +mentioned any of his world-brotherhood ideas. "I still believe in +that. We're fighting for that!" he concluded.</p> +<p>With the ready change of subject of soldiers who have been long +in company, they were soon talking about other things—things +that concerned the living.</p> +<p>"Say, wouldn't I like a real bath—an altogether!"</p> +<p>"And plenty of soap all over!"</p> +<p>"A welter of lather from head to foot and blowing bubbles from +between my lips!"</p> +<p>"And to shave off this beard!"</p> +<p>"Think of the beards that are going when the war is over!"</p> +<p>"Not if you can't grow any more than John!"</p> +<p>"I'm not fighting out of ambush like you!" replied John. "I +haven't got a place for the birds to nest!"</p> +<p>"I'm going to trim mine down gradually," said another; "first an +imperial and mustache with mutton choppers; then mow my cheeks; +then a great, sweeping mustache; then a dandy little mustache; +then—"</p> +<p>"Mow is the word! Don't inflict a barber!"</p> +<p>"And, after the bath, clean underclothes, and, oh, me!—a +home dinner!"</p> +<p>"Stop with your home dinners! That's barred. Army biscuits!"</p> +<p>"Yes, we all prefer army biscuits!"</p> +<p>"We wouldn't touch a home dinner!"</p> +<p>Stransky, his eyes drawing inward in their characteristic slant, +was well pleased with his company, and the scattered exclamatory +badinage kept on until it was interrupted by the arrival of the +mail. Partow and Lanstron, understanding their machine as human in +its elements, had chosen that the army should hear from home.</p> +<p>"How's this!" exclaimed one man, reading from a newspaper. +"They're going to put up a statue of Partow in the capital! It's to +show him as he died, dropped forward on the map, and in front of +his desk a field of bayonets. On one face of the base will be his +name. Two of the other faces will have 'God with us!' and 'Not for +theirs, but for ours!' The legend on the fourth face the war is to +decide."</p> +<p>"Victory! Victory!" cried those who had listened to the +announcement.</p> +<p>"My mother says just what yours says, Tom. I needn't come home +unless we win."</p> +<p>"The girl I'm going to marry said that, too!"</p> +<p>"If we go back with the Gray army at our heels we shall strike a +worse fire than if we stick!"</p> +<p>Stransky was thinking that they had to do more than hold the +Grays. Before he should see his girl they had to take back the lost +territory. He carried two pictures of Minna in his mind: one when +she had struck him in the face as he had tried to kiss her and the +other as he said good-by at the kitchen door. There was not much +encouragement in either.</p> +<p>"But when she gets better acquainted with me there's no +telling!" he kept thinking. "I was fighting out of cussedness at +first. Now I'm fighting for her and to keep what is ours!"</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XLII' id="XLII"></a> +<h2>XLII</h2> +<h3>THE RAM</h3> +<br> +<p>"I've learned that the greatest, most desperate attack of all is +coming," Marta told Lanstron. "But I don't know at what point. I +see Westerling only when he comes into the garden, and he does not +come so frequently of late."</p> +<p>Very sweet and very harrowing to him was the intimacy of their +conspiracy over that underground wire. With the prolongation of the +strain, he feared for her. He understood how she suffered. +Sometimes he felt that the Marta of their holiday comradeship was +dead and it was the impersonal spirit of a great purpose that +brought him information and inspiration. Her voice was taut, +without inflection, as if in pain, occasionally breaking into a dry +sob, only to become even more taut after a silence.</p> +<p>"I don't—I can't urge you to any further sacrifice," +Lanstron replied. "You have endured enough."</p> +<p>"But it will help? It will be of vital service?"</p> +<p>"Yes, tremendously vital."</p> +<p>"I will try to learn more when I see him," she continued. "But +it cannot be done by questioning. A single question might be fatal. +The thing must come in a burst of confidence. That's the horrible +part of it, the—" There was a dry sob over the wire as the +voice broke and then went on steadily: "But I'm game! I'm +game!"</p> +<p>In the closet off the Galland library, where the long-distance +telephone was installed, Westerling was talking with the premier in +the Gray capital.</p> +<p>"Your total casualties are eight hundred thousand! That is +terrific, Westerling!" the premier was saying.</p> +<p>"Only two hundred thousand of those are dead!" replied +Westerling. "Many with only slight wounds are already returning to +the front. Terrific, do you say? Two hundred thousand in five +millions is one man out of every twenty-five. That wouldn't have +worried Frederick the Great or Napoleon much. Eight hundred +thousand is one out of six. The trouble is that such vast armies +have never been engaged before. You must consider the percentages, +not the totals."</p> +<p>"Yet, eight hundred thousand! If the public knew!" exclaimed the +premier.</p> +<p>"The public does not know!" said Westerling.</p> +<p>"They guess. They realize that we stopped the soldiers' letters +because they told bad news. The situation is serious."</p> +<p>"Why not give the public something else to think about?" +Westerling demanded.</p> +<p>"I've tried. It doesn't work. The murmurs increase. I repeat, my +fears of a rising of the women are well grounded. There is mutiny +in the air. I feel it through the columns of the press, though they +are censored. I—"</p> +<p>"Then, soon I'll give the public something to think about, +myself!" Westerling broke in. "The dead will be forgotten. The +wounded will be proud of their wounds and their fathers and mothers +triumphant when our army descends the other side of the range and +starts on its march to the Browns' capital."</p> +<p>"But you have not yet taken a single fortress!" persisted the +premier. "And the Browns report that they have lost only three +hundred thousand men."</p> +<p>"Lanstron is lying!" retorted Westerling hotly. "But no matter. +We have taken positions with every attack and kept crowding in +closer. I ask nothing better than that the Browns remain on the +defensive, leaving initiative to us. We have developed their weak +points. The resolute offensive always wins. I know where I am going +to attack; they do not. I shall not give them time to reinforce the +defence at our chosen point. I have still plenty of live soldiers +left. I shall go in with men enough this time to win and to +hold."</p> +<p>"The army is yours, Westerling," concluded the premier. "I +admire your stolidity of purpose. You have my confidence. I shall +wait and hold the situation at home the best I can. We go into the +hall of fame or into the gutter together, you and I!"</p> +<p>For a while after he had hung up the receiver Westerling's head +drooped, his muscles relaxed, giving mind and body a release from +tension. But his spine was as stiff as ever as he left the closet, +and he was even smiling to give the impression that the news from +the capital was favorable. When the telegraphers' jaws had dropped +as the reports of casualties came in, when discouragement +lengthened the faces around him and whispered in the very breezes +from the fields of the dead, he had automatically maintained his +confident mien. Any sign of weakening would be ruinous in its +effect on his subordinates. The citadel of his egoism must remain +unassailable. He must be the optimist, the front of Jove, for +all.</p> +<p>When he called his chiefs of divisions it was hardly for a staff +council. Stunned by the losses and repulses, loyally industrious, +their opinions unasked, they listened to his whirlwind of orders +without comment—all except Turcas.</p> +<p>"If they are apprised of our plan and are able to concentrate +more artillery than our guns can silence, the losses will be +demoralizing," he observed.</p> +<p>Westerling threw up his head, frowning down the objection.</p> +<p>"Suppose they amount to half the forces that we send in!" he +exclaimed. "Isn't the position, which means the pass and the range, +worth it?"</p> +<p>"Yes, if we both take and hold it; not if we fail," replied +Turcas, quite unaffected by Westerling's manner.</p> +<p>"Failure is not in my lexicon!" Westerling shot back. "For great +gains there must be great risks."</p> +<p>"We prepare for the movement, Your Excellency," answered +Turcas.</p> +<p>It was a steel harness of his own will that Westerling wore, +without admitting that it galled him, and he laid it off only in +Marta's presence. With her, his growing sense of isolation had the +relief of companionship. She became a kind of mirror of his egoism +and ambitions. He liked to have her think of him as a great man +unruffled among weaker men. In the quiet and seclusion of the +garden, involuntarily as one who has no confidant speaks to +himself, reserving fortitude for his part before the staff, while +she, under the spell of her purpose, silently, with serene and +wistfully listening eyes, played hers, he outlined how the final +and telling blow was to be struck.</p> +<p>"We must and we shall win!" he kept repeating.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Through a rubber disk held to his ear in the closet of his +bedroom a voice, tremulous with nervous fatigue, was giving +Lanstron news that all his aircraft and cavalry and spies could not +have gained; news worth more than a score of regiments; news fresh +from the lips of the chief of staff of the enemy. The attack was to +be made at the right of Engadir, its centre breaking from the +redoubt manned by Fracasse's men.</p> +<p>"Marta, you genius!" Lanstron cried. "You are the real general! +You—"</p> +<p>"Not that, please!" she broke in. "I'm as foul and depraved as a +dealer in subtle poisons in the Middle Ages! Oh, the shame of it, +while I look into his eyes and feign admiration, feign everything +which will draw out his plans! I can never forget the sight of him +as he told me how two or three or four hundred thousand men were to +be crowded into a ram, as he called it—a ram of human +flesh!—and guns enough in support, he said, to tear any +redoubts to pieces; guns enough to make their shells as thick as +the bullets from an automatic!"</p> +<p>"We'll meet ram with ram! We'll have some guns, too!" exclaimed +Lanstron. "We'll send as heavy a shell fire at their infantry as +they send into our redoubts."</p> +<p>"Yes; oh, yes!" she replied. "Westerling couldn't say it any +better! What difference is there between you? Each at his desk is +saying: 'This regiment will die here; that regiment will die +there!' I bring you word of one human ram going to destruction in +order that you may send another to destroy and be destroyed! And +I'm worse than you. I am the go-between in the conspiracy of +universal murder, sleeping in a good bed every night, in no +danger—when I can sleep; but I can't. I go mad from thinking +of my part, keying myself up deliriously to each fresh deceit!"</p> +<p>With every sentence her voice broke and it seemed that she would +not be able to utter another. Yet she kept on in the alternation of +taut, pitiful monotone and dry, coughing sobs.</p> +<p>"How have I ever been able to go as far as I have? How did I get +through this last scene? When it seems as if I were about to +collapse, something supports me. When the thing grows too horrible +and I am about to cry out to Westerling that I am false, I hear his +boast that he made the war as a last step in his ambition. And +there is Dellarme's smile rising before me. He died so finely in +defence of our garden! When my brain goes numb and I can't think +what to say, can't act, Feller appears, prompting with ready word +and facile change of expression, and I have my wits again. I go on! +I go on!"</p> +<p>A racking sob, now, and silence; then, in the sudden effort of +one who must change the subject to hold his sanity, she asked:</p> +<p>"How is Feller? Is he doing well?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"At least I have brought him happiness. Sometimes I think that +is about all the good I have accomplished—I, his successor in +carrying out your plans! Oh, I'm burned out, Lanny! I'm ashes. It +doesn't seem that I can ever be sane or clean and human again. In +order to forget I should have to find a new life, like Feller. Each +morning when I look in the mirror I expect to see my hair turned +white, like his."</p> +<p>Lanstron felt her suffering as if it were his own. He had let +his patriotic passion overwhelm every other consideration. He had +allowed her to be a spy; he had sacrificed her sensibilities along +with the battalions he had sent into battle. She was right: he was +only the inhuman head of a machine. And she and Feller—they +were human. Destiny playing in the crux of war's inconsistencies +had formed a bond between them.</p> +<p>"But, go on, Lanny. Play your part as you see it—as +Westerling sees his and Feller his and I mine," she said. "That is +the only logic clear to me; only I can't play any more. I haven't +the strength."</p> +<p>"Yes, I shall go on, Marta," he replied, "but you must not. Your +work is over, and perhaps this last service may bring a quick end +and save countless lives."</p> +<p>"Don't. It's too like Westerling! It has become too trite!" she +protested. "The end! If I really were helping toward that and to +save lives and our country to its people, what would my private +feelings matter' My honor, my soul—what would anything +matter? For that, any sacrifice. I'm only one human being—a +weak, lunatic sort of one, just now!"</p> +<p>"Marta, don't suffer so! You are overwrought. You—"</p> +<p>"I can say all that for you, Lanny," she interrupted with the +faintest laugh. "I've said it so many times to myself. Perhaps when +I call you up again I shall not be so hysterical. Tell Feller how I +have played his part, and, in the midst of all your +responsibilities, remember to give him a chance."</p> +<p>Lanstron was not thinking of war or war's combination when he +hung up the receiver.</p> +<p>"Yes, it is Gustave!" he thought. "I understand!" It was some +moments before he returned to the staff room, and then he had +mastered his emotion. He was the soldier again.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>"They are clearing the wires for the chief of staff to speak to +you, sir," announced the telephone aide in Feller's eyrie artillery +lookout.</p> +<p>Feller received the word with his clucking "La, la, la!" and +hummed a tune while the connection was being made. He had not +spoken with Lanny since his own promotion to a colonelcy and +Partow's death.</p> +<p>"My ear-drums split for joy at hearing your voice again!" Feller +cried. "A regiment of guns for yours truly! You've made me the +happiest man in the world. And haven't I smacked the Grays in the +tummy, not to mention in the nose and on the shins! Well, I should +say so! La, la, la!"</p> +<p>"You certainly have, you bully old boy!" said Lanstron. "Miss +Galland sends her congratulations and regards."</p> +<p>"Eh, what? Her regards to me! The telephone still continues to +work? Our own original trunk-tunnel private line? Eh? Tell me; tell +me, quick!"</p> +<p>"Yes, she has performed the greatest service of the +war—better than you could have done it, Gustave!"</p> +<p>"Whee-ee! Why not? Of course! I'm not surprised. She's the +greatest woman in the world, I tell you, and I know! And she sends +her regards to her old gardener? Think of that! If trouble never +comes singly, why shouldn't joys come in a pour? Oh, it she could +see me now, so cosey up here among the birds, chucking shells about +as cheerily as if I were tossing roses to the ladies in a +ballroom!"</p> +<p>"She wants you to have every chance," said Lanstron.</p> +<p>"She asks that for me!"</p> +<p>The peculiar intimate fervor of the exclamation sprang from a +Feller in an officer's uniform who could now move in Marta's world. +Lanstron hurried on to explain the nature of the next attack.</p> +<p>"If we repulse them we are going to throw in a ram of our own," +he said. "We're going to take the aggressive for the moment. It is +the only sure policy for successful defence."</p> +<p>"Right! Now you're talking. We learned that principle at school, +didn't we?"</p> +<p>"And that means a bigger chance for you, Gustave. We are +bringing up reserve artillery and making new dispositions. I am +going to give you charge of the field-guns. But the chief of +artillery will tell you about your work."</p> +<p>"This is heaven, Lanny! How am I ever going to—"</p> +<p>"There, no thanks, Gustave. You are the man. It is a time when +only efficiency must be considered."</p> +<p>"Then I have made good! Then I've been worthy of my opportunity! +I'd rather be a good gunner than a king. I'll eat this new work and +smack my lips for more. Tell Miss Galland that every shell that +hits the mark is a thought from the old gardener for her. Six weeks +ago trimming rose-bushes and now—this is life! La, la, la! +There's been romance and destiny in the whole business for us both, +Lanny. And you—you are acting chief of staff! I forgot to +congratulate you, Your Excellency. Your Excellency! Think of that! +But it's no surprise to me. Didn't we go to school together? How +could any one ever go to school with me and not be a great man? And +I'm wearing a flower in my buttonhole! La, la, la!"</p> +<p>All that night and day before the night set for the attack, +while the guns were being emplaced and the infantry formed in a +gray carpet behind the slopes, a chill, misty rain fell, which the +devout of the Grays might say proved that God was with them rather +than with the Browns; for it screened their movements from the +Brown lookouts. The judge's son and Peterkin and others of +Fracasse's company had finished their mine; the fuses were laid. +There was no dry place for a seat in their flooded redoubt and they +had to stand, eating cold rations and shivering in their filthy, +wet clothes. The whole army was drenched; the whole army +shivered.</p> +<p>If only the air did not clear when darkness fell! The last thing +the staff of the Grays wanted was to see a star in the sky. Had +they believed in prayer they would have gone on their knees for a +black fog, unaware that all that they would hide had been made +known to the Browns through Marta almost from the hour that the +preparations for the attack were begun.</p> +<p>With darkness, the rain ceased; but the mist remained a thick +mantle over the landscape, impenetrable to the watchful +search-lights of the Browns, which never stopped playing from +sunset to dawn. The gray carpet of the reserves that were to form +Westerling's ram moved over the slopes, dipping and rising with the +convolutions of the earth, with no word spoken except the repeated +whispered warnings of silence from the officers. Sweeping on up +toward the redoubts, it found that parallels and trenches had been +filled to give footing for the swifter impulse of the tide, once it +was started for the heights.</p> +<p>A flash from Fracasse's pocket lamp showed faces pasty white and +eyes of staring glassiness. Fracasse's face and the colonel's were +also white—white with the rigidity of carved marble, carved +with a set frown of determination. Fracasse was going in with his +company and the colonel with his regiment. It was their duty. Both +realized the nature of the risk; and, worse, each knew that the men +realized it. In another age, when education was not so common and +unthinking, unforeseeing passion could be aroused in ignorant +minds, a stimulant on an empty stomach might have made them +animals, oblivious to danger. They were about to offer their lives +to pave the way for others to reach the works that none of them, +probably, would ever reach. For the like of this, in gathering the +enemy's spears to his breast, a saga had risen around one national +hero. But Fracasse's veterans were only the shivering units of the +millions; the part of the machine that happened to be the first to +strike another machine in collision. Such was the end of all the +training, the marching, the drilling in the gallant business of +arms, with no more romance or glory than beeves going to the +slaughter.</p> +<p>"You'll be the first out into the glacis, the first into the +enemy's redoubt," said the colonel, forcing a tone of good, +old-fashioned "up-guards-and-at-'em" vigor, as he touched the +bronze cross on Peterkin's breast with his forefinger.</p> +<p>Little Peterkin, always pale but not so pale now as his +comrades, flushed at the distinction.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir!" and he saluted.</p> +<p>In his eyes was the exaltation of his simple-minded faith. He +did not think too much. What more could kings and conquerors ask +than such a soldier as the valet's son, secure in the belief that +his charmed life would bring him through the assault unharmed?</p> +<p>"My God! I can't!" exclaimed the banker's son. "I've suffered +enough. There's life and wealth and all that it gives waiting for +me at home! I'm young—I can't!"</p> +<p>There was a rustle of bodies in a restless movement of drawn +breaths at common thought taking form, desperately fraught with +alarm to Fracasse.</p> +<p>"You will!" Fracasse said, thrusting his revolver muzzle against +the ribs of the banker's son. "If you don't, I'll shoot you dead, +or you'll be trampled to death by the rush from the rear!"</p> +<p>The wedge point may not strike back at the hammer that drives +it. Close packed behind Fracasse's company was a seemingly +limitless mass of soldiery, palpitant with their short breaths, a +steamy, sickening odor rising from their water-soaked clothes. Here +were men so wet, so tired, so nerve-worn that they did not care +when death came; men who wanted to curse and strike out against +their fate; men who wanted to turn in flight, their natural impulse +held down by the bonds of discipline and that pride of fellowship +which is shamed to confess to a shiver along the spine. Some saw +pictures of home, of sweethearts; some saw nothing. Some were in a +coma of merciless suspense that grew more and more unendurable, +until it seemed that anything to break it would be welcome.</p> +<p>Occasionally came a sob from a man gone hysterical under the +strain, a moan of mental misery; and once a laugh, a strange, +hiccoughy, delirious laugh, a strident attempt at the wit that +keeps up courage; and from Pilzer, the butcher's son, a string of +oaths mixed with brimstone and obscenity. After each outbreak an +automatic, irritable whisper for silence came from an officer. Legs +and arms, bodies and souls and brains in a nauseating press! +Humanity reckoned by the pound, high-priced from breeding and +rearing and training; yet very cheap.</p> +<p>Hearts thumped and watches ticked off the time, until suddenly +the heavens were racked by the prologue of the guns. Child's play +that baptism of shell fire in the first charge of the war beside +later thunders; and these, in turn, mild beside this terrific +outburst, with all the artillery concentrated to support the ram in +a sudden blast. The passing projectiles formed the continuous +scream and roar of some many-toned siren that penetrated the flesh +as well as the ears with its sound. Orders could not have been +heard if given. There was no need for orders. Fracasse, counting +off the minutes between him and eternity on his watch face by his +flash-light, saw that ten had passed. Then his finger that pressed +a button, his brain that spoke to his hand, were those of an +automaton acting by time release. He exploded the mine. This was +the signal for the charge; for all the legs of the ram to move.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XLIII' id="XLIII"></a> +<h2>XLIII</h2> +<h3>JOVE'S ISOLATION</h3> +<br> +<p>An hour or so before the attack the telegraph instruments in the +Galland house had become pregnantly silent. There were no more +orders to give; no more reports to come from the troops in position +until the assault was made. Officers of supply ceased to transmit +routine matters over the wire, while they strained their eyes +toward the range. Officers of the staff moved about restlessly, +glancing at their watches and going to the windows frequently to +see if the mist still held.</p> +<p>No one entered the library where Westerling was seated alone +with nothing to do. His suspense was that of the mothers who longed +for news of their sons at the front; his helplessness that of a man +in a hospital lobby waiting on the result of an operation whose +success or failure will save or wreck his career. The physical +desire of movement, the conflict with something in his own mind, +drove him out of doors.</p> +<p>"I want to blow my lungs in the fresh air! Call me if I am +needed. I shall be in the garden," he told his aide; and he thought +that his voice sounded calm and natural, as became Jove in a crisis +that unnerved lesser men. "Though I fancy it is the other chief of +staff who will have the work to do this evening, eh?" he added, +forcing one of the smiles which had been the magnetic servant of +his personal force in his rise to power.</p> +<p>"Yes, Your Excellency," said the aide.</p> +<p>Westerling was rather pleased with the fact that he could still +smile; pleased with the loyalty of this young officer when, day by +day, the rest of the staff had grown colder and more mechanical in +the attitude that completed his isolation. Walking vigorously along +the path toward the tower, the exercise of his muscles, the feel of +the cool, moist air on his face, brought back some of the buoyancy +of spirit that he craved. A woman's figure, with a cape thrown over +the shoulders and the head bare, loomed out of the mist.</p> +<p>"I couldn't stay in—not to-night," Marta said, as +Westerling drew near. "I had to see. It's only a quarter of an hour +now, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"The Browns may sing 'God with us,' but He seems to have been +with the Grays," Westerling answered. "Our whole movement was +perfectly screened by the heavy weather."</p> +<p>"But they know—they know every detail that you have told +me!" ran her mocking, scarifying thought. "And this will be the +most terrible attack of all?" she asked faintly.</p> +<p>"Yes, such a concentration of men and guns as never were driven +against any position—an irresistible force," he said. +"Irresistible!" he repeated with a heavy emphasis.</p> +<p>"But if the Browns did know where you were going to attack?" she +asked absently and still more faintly. "The sacrifice of lives then +would be all the greater?"</p> +<p>"Yes, we should have to pay a higher price, but still we should +be irresistible—irresistible!" he answered.</p> +<p>Ghastly faces were staring at her, their lips moving in death to +excoriate her. It was not too late to tell him the truth; not too +late to stop the attack. Her head had sunk; she trembled and swayed +and a kind of moan escaped her. She seemed utterly frail and so +distraught that Westerling, in an impulse of protection, laid his +hands on her relaxed shoulders. She could feel the pressure of each +finger growing firmer in its power, while a certain eloquence +possessed him in defiance of his apprehensions.</p> +<p>"Our cause is at stake to-night," he declared, "yours and mine! +We must win, you and I! It is our destiny!"</p> +<p>"You and I!" repeated Marta. "Why you and I?"</p> +<p>It seemed very strange to be thinking of any two persons when +hundreds of thousands were awaiting the signal for the death +prepared by him. He mistook the character of her thought in the +obsession of his egoism.</p> +<p>"What do lives mean?" he cried with a sudden desperation, his +grip of her shoulders tightening. "It is the law of nature for man +to fight. Unless he fights he goes to seed. One trouble with our +army is that it was soft from the want of war. It is the law of +nature for the fittest to survive! Other sons will be born to take +the place of those who die to-night. There will be all the more +room for those who live. Victory will create new opportunities. +What is a million out of the billions on the face of the earth? +Those who lead alone count—those who dwell in the atmosphere +of the peaks, as we do!" The pressure of his strong hands in the +unconscious emphasis of his passion became painful; but she did not +protest or try to draw away, thinking of his hold in no personal +sense but as a part of his self-revelation. "All—all is at +stake there!" he continued, staring toward the range. "It's the +Rubicon! I have put my career on to-night's cast! Victory means +that the world will be at our feet—honor, position, power +greater than that of any other two human beings! Do you realize +what that means—the honor and the power that will be ours? I +shall have directed the greatest army the world has ever known to +victory!"</p> +<p>"And defeat means—what does defeat mean?" she asked +narrowly, calmly; and the pointed question released her shoulders +from the vise.</p> +<p>What had been a shadow in his thoughts became a live monster, +striking him with the force of a blow. He forgot Marta. Yes, what +would defeat mean to <i>him</i>? Sheer human nature broke through +the bonds of mental discipline weakened by sleepless nights. +Convulsively his head dropped as he covered his face.</p> +<p>"Defeat! Fail! That I should fail!" he moaned.</p> +<p>Then it was that she saw him in the reality of his littleness, +which she had divined; this would-be conqueror. She saw him as his +intimates often see the great man without his front of Jove. Don't +we know that Napoleon had moments of privacy when he whined and +threatened suicide? She wondered if Lanny, too, were like +that—if it were not the nature of all conquerors who could +not have their way. It seemed to her that Westerling was beneath +the humblest private in his army—beneath even that fellow +with the liver patch on his cheek who had broken the chandelier in +the sport of brutal passion. All sense of her own part was +submerged in the sight of a chief of staff exhibiting no more +stoicism than a petulant, spoiled schoolboy.</p> +<p>While his head was still bent the artillery began its crashing +thunders and the sky became light with flashes. His hands stretched +out toward the range, clenched and pulsing with defiance and +command.</p> +<p>"Go in! Go in, as I told you!" he cried. "Stay in, alive or +dead! Stay till I tell you to come out! Stay! I can't do any more! +You must do it now!"</p> +<p>"Then this may be truly the end," thought Marta, "if the assault +fails."</p> +<p>And silently she prayed that it would fail; while the flashes +lighted Westerling's set features, imploring success.</p> +<p>No commander was a more prodigal employer of spies than +Napoleon. Did he or any other conqueror ever acknowledge a success +due to the despised outcasts who brought him information? No. The +brilliance of combinations, the stroke of genius of the swift march +and the decisive blow in flank, the splendid charges—these +always win in the historian's narrative and public imagination. +Think of any place in the frieze of the statue of the great leader +for that hypocrite, that poor devil in disguise, whose news made +the victory possible!</p> +<p>"Good generalship is easy if you know what the enemy is going to +do," Lanstron remarked to a member of the staff council who said +something complimentary to him. Compliments from subordinates to +superiors had not received Partow's favor and, therefore, not +Lanstron's. Eccentric old Partow had once disparaged the Napoleonic +idea as a fetich which had nothing to do with modern military +efficiency, and he had added that if Napoleon were alive to-day +nobody would be so prompt to see it as Napoleon himself. If he did +not, and tried to incarnate the idea of the time by making himself +the supreme genius of war, he would fail, because ability was too +nearly universal and the age too big for another Colossus.</p> +<p>Through Marta's information every detail of Westerling's plan +outlined itself to the trained minds of the Brown staff. Amazement +at their dependence on an underground wire and a woman's word for +shaping vast affairs was not reflected in any scepticism or +hesitation as to the method of meeting the assault.</p> +<p>The fortifications that had sheltered the Brown infantry, +including Stransky's men of the 53d, would be the object of the +artillery fire which was to support the Gray charge. Well Lanstron +knew that no fortifications could withstand the gusts of shells to +be concentrated on such a small target. The defenders could not see +to fire for the dust. Their rifles would be knocked out of their +hands by the concussions. They must be crushed or imprisoned by the +destruction of the very walls that had been their protection. So +they were withdrawn to other redoubts in the rear, where a line of +automatics placed under their rifles were in pointblank range of +their old position which the Grays' shells would tear to +pieces.</p> +<p>Back of them was a brown carpet of waiting soldiery of as close +a pile as Westerling's carpet of gray. The rain-drenched Brown +engineers dug as fast as the enemy's. Lanstron massed artillery +against massed artillery. For every Gray gun he had more than one +Brown gun. The Grays might excel by ratio of five to three in human +avoirdupois, but a willing Brown government had been generous with +funds. Money will buy guns and skill will man them. Battery back of +battery in literal tiers, small calibres in front and heavy +calibres in the rear, with ranges fixed to given points—more +guns than ever fired on a single position before—were to pour +their exploding projectiles not into redoubts but into the human +wedge.</p> +<p>In the Browns' headquarters, as in the Grays', telegraph +instruments were silent after the preparations were over. Here, +also, officers walked about restlessly, glancing at their watches. +They, too, were glad that the mist continued. It meant no wind. +When the telegraph did speak it was with another message from some +aerostatic officer, saying, "Still favorable," which was taken at +once to Lanstron, who was with the staff chiefs around the big +table. They nodded at the news and smiled to one another; and some +who had been pacing sat down and others rose to begin pacing +afresh.</p> +<p>"We could have emplaced two lines of automatics, one above the +other!" exclaimed the chief of artillery.</p> +<p>"But that would have given too much of a climb for the infantry +in going in—delayed the rush," said Lanstron.</p> +<p>"If they should stick—if we couldn't drive them back!" +exclaimed the vice-chief of staff.</p> +<p>"I don't think they will!" said Lanstron.</p> +<p>To the others he seemed as cool as ever, even when his maimed +hand was twitching in his pocket. But now, suddenly, his eyes +starting as at a horror, he trembled passionately, his head +dropping forward, as if he would collapse.</p> +<p>"Oh, the murder of it—the murder!" he breathed.</p> +<p>"But they brought it on! Not for theirs, but for ours!" said the +vice-chief of staff, laying his hand on Lanstron's shoulder.</p> +<p>"And we sit here while they go in!" Lanstron added. "There's a +kind of injustice about that which I can't get over. Not one of us +here has been under fire!"</p> +<p>Even the minute of the attack they knew; and just before +midnight they were standing at the window looking out into the +night, while the vice-chief held his watch in hand. In the hush the +faint sound of a dirigible's propeller high up in the heavens, +muffled by the fog, was drowned by the Gray guns opening fire.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Before the mine exploded, by the light of the shell bursts +breaking their vast prisms from central spheres of flame for miles, +with the quick sequence of a moving-picture flicker, Fracasse's men +could see one another's faces, spectral and stiff and pasty white, +with teeth gleaming where jaws had dropped, some eyes half closed +by the blinding flashes and some opened wide as if the lids were +paralyzed. Faces and faces! A sea of faces stretching away down the +slope—faces in a trance.</p> +<p>Up over the breastworks, over rocks and splintered timbers, +Peterkin and the judge's son and their comrades clambered. When +they moved they were as a myriad-legged creature, brain numbed, +without any sensation except that of rapids going over a fall. +Those in front could not falter, being pushed on by the pressure of +those in the rear. For a few steps they were under no fire. The +scream of their own shells breaking in infernal pandemonium in +front seemed to be a power as irresistible as the rear of the wedge +in driving them on.</p> +<p>Then sounds more hideous than the flight of projectiles broke +about them with the abruptness of lightnings held in the hollow of +the Almighty's hand and suddenly released. The Browns' guns had +opened fire. Explosions were even swifter in sequence than the +flashes that revealed the stark faces. Dust and stones and flying +fragments of flesh filled the air. Men went down in positive +paralysis of faculties by the terrific crashes. Sections of the ram +were blown to pieces by the burst of a shrapnel shoulder high; +other sections were lifted heavenward by a shell burst in the +earth.</p> +<p>Peterkin fell with a piece of jagged steel embedded in his +brain. He had gone from the quick to the dead so swiftly that he +never knew that his charm had failed. The same explosion got +Fracasse, sword in hand, and another buried him where he lay. The +banker's son went a little farther; the barber's son still farther. +Men who were alive hardly realized life, so mixed were life and +death. Infernal imagination goes faint; its wildest similes grow +feeble and banal before such a consummation of hell.</p> +<p>But the tide keeps on; the torn gaps of the ram are filled by +the rushing legs from the rear. Officers urge and lead. Such are +the orders; such is the duty prescribed; such is human bravery even +in these days when life is sweeter to more men in the joys of mind +and body than ever before. Precision, organization, solidarity in +this charge such as the days of the "death-or-glory" boys never +knew! Over the bodies of Peterkin and the barber's and the banker's +sons, plunging through shell craters, stumbling, staggering, cut by +swaths and torn by eddies of red destruction in their ranks, the +tide proceeded, until its hosts were oftener treading on flesh than +on soil. And all they knew was to keep on—keep on, bayonet in +hand, till they reached the redoubt, and there they were to stay, +alive or dead.</p> +<p>In that pulsating, fierce light, while the ground under their +feet trembled with the concussions, Westerling's face was as clear +to Marta as if he were staring in at a furnace door. The lines of +breeding and of restrained authority which gave it distinction had +faded. It had the eager ferocity of the hunt. His short, tense +exclamations explained the stages of progress of the attack as +revealed to his sight.</p> +<p>"It cannot fail! No! Impossible! Look at the speed of our +gun-fire! But I judge that we have not been able to silence as many +of their guns as we ought to—they're using shell into our +close order. But all the guns in creation shall not stop us! I have +men enough this time—enough, enough, enough! There! Our +shorter-range guns have ceased firing! That shows we are in the +redoubts. The longer-range guns continue. They are firing beyond +the redoubt against any counter-attack, if the Browns try to +recover what they have lost. But every minute brings another +battalion into place. Engineers and guns will follow. The war is as +good as won!"</p> +<p>He caught at Marta's hand, but she drew away; and her start of +revulsion at his touch was almost coincident with a start on his +part for another reason. A huge shadow shot at railway-train speed +over their heads. Something very like fear flashed into his +expression.</p> +<p>"One of our dirigibles!" he exclaimed. "I confess it came so +near that it gave me a sort of shock, too."</p> +<p>"Only a shadow with no death in it," she said. "And there is +death in every flash there on the range. General Westerling, have +you ever been under fire?" she asked suddenly.</p> +<p>He had scarcely heard the question. He took a step forward, with +head raised and shading his eyes.</p> +<p>"Not ours! One of theirs!" he exclaimed. "Theirs—and any +number of theirs!"</p> +<p>Driving toward the volcano's centre were many Brown dirigibles, +slowing down as they approached. Greater eruptions than any from +shells rose from the earth as they passed.</p> +<p>"So that's what they've had their dirigibles in reserve +for—for the last desperate defence!" he said. "The defence +that can never win! Not their dirigibles—not any power known +to man can stop my men. I have sent in so many that enough must +survive. But where are <i>our</i> dirigibles? A few are +up—why don't they close in? And our guns—why don't they +fire at a target before their eyes as big as a house? There they +go, and they got one!"—as a circle of flame brighter than the +illumination of other explosions broke in the sky. "And one of ours +is closing in! Look, both have blown up as they collided! That +shows that two can play at the game! But what a swarm they +have—more than we knew! Bouchard's intelligence at fault +again! However, if they try to stop our fortifying the redoubt our +guns will care for them. That clever trick of Lanstron's may have +cost us a few extra casualties, but it will not change the result. +It's time we had details over the wire," he concluded, turning back +to the house rather precipitately. "Then there may be work for +me."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>"After hell, more hell, and then still more hell!" was the way +that Stransky expressed his thought when the engineers had taken +the place of the 53d of the Browns in the redoubt. They put their +mines and connections deep enough not to be disturbed by shell +fire. After the survivors in the van of the Grays' charge, spent of +breath, reached their goal and threw themselves down, the earth +under them, as the mine exploded, split and heaved heavenward. But +those in the rear, slapped in the face by the concussion, kept on, +driven by the pressure of the mass at their backs, and, in turn, +plunged forward on their stomachs in the seams and furrows of the +mine's havoc. The mass thickened as the flood of bodies and legs +banked up, in keeping with Westerling's plan to have "enough to +hold."</p> +<p>Now the automatics and the rifles from the redoubt to which the +Browns had fallen back opened fire. So close together were these +bullet-machines that the orbit of each one's swing made a spray of +only a few yards' breadth over the old redoubt, where the Browns' +gun-fire had not for a moment ceased its persistent shelling, with +increasingly large and solid targets of flesh for their practice. +The thing for these targets to do, they knew, was to intrench and +begin to return the infantry and automatics' fire. Desperately, +with the last effort of courage, they rose in the +attempt—rose into playing hose streams of bullets whose close +hiss was a steady undertone between shell bursts. In the garish, +jumping light brave officers impulsively stood up to hearten their +commands in their work, and dropped with half-uttered urgings, +threats, and oaths on their lips.</p> +<p>The bullets from the automatics missing one mark were certain to +find another, perhaps four or five in a row, such was their +velocity and power of penetration. Where shells made gaps and tore +holes in the human mass, the automatics cut with the regularity of +the driven teeth of a comb. The men who escaped all the forms of +slaughter and staggered on to the ruins of the redoubt, pressed +their weight on top of those in the craters or hugged behind the +pyramids of débris, and even made breastworks from the +bodies of the dead. The more that banked up, the more fruitless the +efforts of the officers to restore order in the frantic medley of +shell screams and explosions at a time when a minute seemed an +age.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, between them—this banked-up force at the +charge's end—and the Brown redoubt with its automatics, the +Gray gunners were making a zone of shell bursts in order to give +the soldiers time to make their hold of the ground they had gained +secure. Through this zone Stransky and his men were to lead the +Browns in a counter-attack.</p> +<p>At the very height of the Gray charge, when all the reserves +were in, dark objects fell out of the heavens, and where they +dropped earth and flesh were mingled in the maceration. Like some +giant reptile with its vertebræ breaking, gouged and torn and +pinioned, the charge stopped, in writhing, throbbing confusion. +Those on the outer circle of explosions were thrown against their +fellows, who surged back in another direction from an explosion in +the opposite quarter. From the rear the pressure weakened; the +human hammer was no longer driving the ram. Blinded by the +lightnings and dust, dizzy from concussions and noise, too blank of +mind to be sane or insane, the atoms of the bulk of the charge in +natural instinct turned from their goal and toward the place whence +they had come, with death from all sides still buffeting them. +Staggeringly, at first, they went, for want of initiative in their +paralysis; then rapidly, as the law of self-preservation asserted +itself in wild impulse.</p> +<p>As sheep driven over a precipice they had advanced; as men they +fled. There was no longer any command, no longer any cohesion, +except of legs struggling in and out over the uneven footing of +dead and wounded, while they felt another pressure, that of the +mass of the Browns in pursuit. Of all those of Fracasse's company +whom we know, only the judge's son and Jacob Pilzer were alive. +Stained with blood and dust, his teeth showing in a grimace of +mocking hate of all humankind, Pilzer's savagery ran free of the +restraint of discipline and civilized convention. Striking right +and left, he forced his way out of the region of shell fire and +still kept on. Clubbing his rifle, he struck down one officer who +tried to detain him; but another officer, quicker than he, put a +revolver bullet through his head.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Westerling, who had buried his face in his hands in Marta's +presence at the thought of failure, must keep the pose of his +position before the staff. With chin drawn in and shoulders squared +in a sort of petrified military habit, he received the feverish +news that grew worse with each brief bulletin. He, the chief of +staff; he, Hedworth Westerling, the superman, must be a rock in the +flood of alarm. When he heard that his human ram was in recoil he +declared that the repulse had been exaggerated—repulses +always were. With word that a heavy counter-attack was turning the +retreat into an ungovernable rout, he broke into a storm. He was +not beaten; he could not be beaten.</p> +<p>"Let our guns cut a few swaths in the mob!" he cried. "That will +stop them from running and bring them back to a sense of duty to +their country."</p> +<p>The irritating titter of the bell in the closet off the library +only increased his defiance of facts beyond control. He went to the +long distance with a reply to the premier's inquiry ready to his +lips.</p> +<p>"We got into the enemy's works but had to fall back +temporarily," he said.</p> +<p>"Temporarily! What do you mean?" demanded the premier.</p> +<p>"I mean that we have only begun to attack!" declared Westerling. +He liked that sentence. It sounded like the shibboleth of a great +leader in a crisis. "I shall assault again to-morrow night."</p> +<p>"Then your losses were not heavy?"</p> +<p>"No, not relatively. To-morrow night we press home the advantage +we gained to-night."</p> +<p>"But you have been so confident each time. You still think +that—"</p> +<p>"That I mean to win! There is no stopping half-way."</p> +<p>"Well, I'll still try to hold the situation here," replied the +premier. "But keep me informed."</p> +<p>Drugged by his desperate stubbornness, Westerling was believing +in his star again when he returned to the library. All the greater +his success for being won against scepticism and fears! He summoned +his chiefs of divisions, who came with the news that the Browns had +taken the very redoubt from which the head of the Gray charge had +started; but there they had stopped.</p> +<p>"Of course! Of course they stopped!" exclaimed Westerling. "They +are not mad. A few are not going to throw themselves against +superior numbers—our superior numbers beaten by our own +panic! Lanstron is not a fool. You'll find the Browns back in their +old position, working like beavers to make new defences in the +morning. Meanwhile, we'll get that mob of ours into shape and find +out what made them lose their nerve. To-morrow night we shall have +as many more behind them. We are going to attack again!"</p> +<p>The staff exchanged glances of amazement, and Turcas, his dry +voice crackling like parchment, exclaimed:</p> +<p>"Attack again? At the same point?"</p> +<p>"Yes—the one place to attack!" said Westerling. "The rest +of our line has abundant reserves; a needless number for anything +but the offensive. We'll leave enough to hold and draw off the rest +to Engadir at once."</p> +<p>"But their dirigibles! A surprising number of them are over our +lines," Bellini, the chief of intelligence, had the temerity to +say.</p> +<p>"You will send our planes and dirigibles to bring down theirs!" +Westerling commanded.</p> +<p>"I have—every last one; but they outnumber us!" persisted +Bellini. "Even in retreat they can see. The air has cleared so that +considerable bodies of troops in motion will be readily discernible +from high altitudes. The reason for our failure last night was that +they knew our plan of attack."</p> +<p>"They knew! They knew, after all our precautions! There is still +a leak! You—"</p> +<p>Westerling raised his clenched hand threateningly at the chief +of intelligence, his cheeks purple with rage, his eyes bloodshot. +But Bellini, with his boyish, small face and round head set close +to his shoulders, remained undisturbedly exact.</p> +<p>"Yes, there is a leak, and from the staff," he answered. "Until +I have found it this army ought to suspend any +aggressive—"</p> +<p>"I was not asking advice!" interrupted Westerling.</p> +<p>"But, I repeat, the leak is not necessary to disclose this new +movement that you plan. Their air craft will disclose it," Bellini +concluded. He had done his duty and had nothing more to say.</p> +<p>"Dirigibles do not win battles!" Westerling announced. "They are +won by getting infantry in possession of positions and holding +them. No matter if we don't surprise the enemy. Haven't the Browns +held their line with inferior numbers? If they have, we can hold +the rest of ours. That gives us overwhelming forces at +Engadir."</p> +<p>"You take all responsibility?" asked Turcas.</p> +<p>"I do!" said Westerling firmly. "And we will waste no more time. +The premier supports me. I have decided. We will set the troops in +motion."</p> +<p>With fierce energy he set to work detaching units of artillery +and infantry from every part of the line and starting them toward +Engadir.</p> +<p>"This means an improvised organization; it breaks up the +machine," said the tactical expert to Turcas when they were +alone.</p> +<p>"Yes," replied Turcas. "He wanted no advice from us when he was +taking counsel of desperation. If he succeeds, success will +retrieve all the rest of his errors. We may have a stroke of luck +in our favor."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>In the headquarters of the Browns, junior officers and clerks +reported the words of each bulletin with the relief of men who +breathed freely again. The chiefs of divisions who were with +Lanstron alternately sat down and paced the floor, their +restlessness now that of a happiness too deeply thrilling to be +expressed by hilarity. Each fresh detail only confirmed the +completeness of the repulse as that memorable night in the affairs +of the two nations slowly wore on. Shortly before three, when the +firing had died down after the Brown pursuit had stopped, a +wireless from a dirigible flying over the frontier came, telling of +bodies of Gray troops and guns on the march. Soon planes and other +dirigibles flying over other positions were sending in word of the +same tenor. The chiefs drew around the table and looked into one +another's eyes in the significance of a common thought.</p> +<p>"It cannot be a retreat!" said the vice-chief.</p> +<p>"Hardly. That is inconceivable of Westerling at this time," +Lanstron replied. "The bull charges when wounded. It is clear that +he means to make another attack. These troops on the march across +country are isolated from any immediate service."</p> +<p>It was Lanstron's way to be suggestive; to let ideas develop in +council and orders follow as out of council.</p> +<p>"The chance!" exclaimed some one.</p> +<p>"The chance!" others said in the same breath. "The God-given +chance for a quick blow! The chance! We attack! We attack!"</p> +<p>It was the most natural conception to a military tactician, +though any man who made it his own might have builded a reputation +on it if he knew how to get the ear of the press. Their faces were +close to Lanstron as they leaned toward him eagerly. He seemed not +to see them but to be looking at Partow's chair. In imagination +Partow was there in the life—Partow with the dome forehead, +the pendulous cheeks, the shrewd, kindly eyes. A daring risk, this! +What would Partow say? Lanstron always asked himself this in a +crisis: What would Partow say?</p> +<p>"Well, my boy, why are you hesitating?" Partow demanded. "I +don't know that I'd have taken my long holiday and left you in +charge if I'd thought you'd be losing your nerve as you are this +minute. Wasn't it part of my plan—my dream—that plan I +gave you to read in the vaults, to strike if a chance, this very +chance, were to come? Hurry up! Seconds count!"</p> +<p>"Yes, a chance to end the killing for good and all!" said +Lanstron, coming abruptly out of his silence. "We'll take it and +strike hard."</p> +<p>The staff bent over the map, Lanstron's finger flying from point +to point, while ready expert answers to his questions were at his +elbow and the wires sang out directions that made a drenched and +shivering soldiery Who had been yielding and holding and never +advancing grow warm with the thought of springing from the mire of +trenches to charge the enemy. And one, Gustave Feller, in command +of a brigade of field-guns—the mobile guns that could go +forward rumbling to the horses' trot—saw his dearly beloved +batteries swing into a road in the moonlight.</p> +<p>"La, la, la! The worm will turn!" he clucked. "It's a merry, +gambling old world and I'm right fond of it—so full of the +unexpected for the Grays! That lead horse is a little lame, but +he'll last the night through. Lots of lame things will! Who knows? +Maybe we'll be cleaning the mud off our boots on the white posts of +the frontier to-morrow! A whole brigade mine! I live! You old +brick, Lanny! This time we are going to spank the enemy on the part +of his anatomy where spanks are conventionally given. La, la, +la!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>If not his own pain, the moans, the gasps, the appeals for +water, the convulsive shivers from cold, and the demoniacal giggles +from a soldier gone insane in medley around him would have kept the +judge's son awake. After he had fallen, struck by he knew not what, +and consciousness had returned, came the surging charge of the +Browns in the counter-attack, with throaty cries and threshing +tread. He was able to turn over on his face and cover the back of +his head with his hands, as a slight protection from steps that +found footing on his body instead of on the earth. After that he +had understood vaguely that a newcomer on the field of the fallen +needed help with a first aid, and he had found his knife and slit a +sleeve and applied a bandage to check the bleeding of an artery. +Before dawn broke the sky was all alight again with a far-reaching +gun-fire—that of the Brown advance—throwing the scene +of slaughter into spectral relief, which became more real and +terrible in the undramatic light of day.</p> +<p>Thick, ghastly thick, the dead and wounded; and the +faces—faces half buried, faces black with congealed blood, +faces staring straight up at the sky, faces with eyes popping where +necks had been twisted! Near by was the distorted metal work of a +dirigible, with the bodies of its crew burned beyond recognition, +and farther away were other dirigible wrecks. A wounded Gray, who +had not the strength to do it himself, begged some one to lift a +corpse off his body. A Gray and a Brown were locked in a wrestling +embrace in which a shrapnel burst had surprised them. Piles of dead +and wounded had been scattered and torn by a shell which found only +dead and wounded for destruction at the point of its explosion. The +living were crawling out from under the shields they had made of +corpses in shell craters, and searching for water in the canteens +and biscuits in the haversacks of the dead. One Gray who was +completely entombed except his head remarked that he was all right +if some one would dig him out. At his side showed the legs of a man +who had been buried face downward. Ribs of the wounded broken in; +features of the dead mashed by the heels of the Brown +countercharge! With every turn of his glance his surroundings grew +more intimate in details of horror to the judge's son. On the +earth, saturated with rivulets and little lakes of blood, gleamed +the lead shrapnel bullets and the brighter, nickelled rifle-bullets +and the barrels of rifles dropped from the hands of the fallen.</p> +<p>"I'd have bled to death if you hadn't put on that bandage. You +saved my life!" whispered the man next to the judge's son, who was +Tom Fragini.</p> +<p>"Did I? Did I?" exclaimed the judge's son. "Well, that's +something."</p> +<p>"It certainly is to me," replied Tom, holding out his hand, and +thus they shook hands, this Gray and this Brown. "Maybe some time, +when the war's over, I can thank you in more than words."</p> +<p>"More than words! Perhaps you can do that now. You—you +haven't a cigarette, old fellow?" asked the judge's son. "I haven't +smoked for three days."</p> +<p>"Yes, only I roll mine," said Tom.</p> +<p>"So do I mine," said the judge's son.</p> +<p>"But with a game hand I—"</p> +<p>"Oh, I've the hands. It's my leg that's been mashed up," said +the judge's son. "Labor and capital!" he added cheerily as he +dropped the cosmopolitan tobacco on the cosmopolitan wafer of +rice-paper.</p> +<p>They smoked and smiled at each other in the glow of that better +passion when wounds have let out the poison of conflict, while the +doctors and the hospital-corps men began their attention to the +critical cases and on down the slopes the mills of war were +grinding out more dead and wounded.</p> +<p>"At the hospital where I was interne before the war we were +trying to save a crippled boy the use of his leg," remarked a +reserve surgeon. "Half a dozen surgeons held consultations over +that boy—yes, just for one leg. And now look at this!"</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XLIV' id="XLIV"></a> +<h2>XLIV</h2> +<h3>TURNING THE TABLES</h3> +<br> +<p>"I shall take a little nap. There will be plenty to do later," +said Westerling, after the last telegram detaching the reserves for +concentration had gone.</p> +<p>Yes, he would rest while the troops were in motion. The staff +should see that he was still the same self-contained commander +whose every faculty was the trained servant of his will. His +efforts at sleep resulted in a numbing brain torture, which so +desensitized it to outward impressions that his faithful personal +aide entering the room at dawn had to touch him on the shoulder to +arouse attention.</p> +<p>"There's nothing like being able to order yourself to sleep, +whatever the crisis," he said. But suddenly he winced as if a blast +of bullets had crashed through a window-pane and buried themselves +in the wall beside his bed. "What is that?" he gasped "What?" With +appalling distinctness he heard a cannonade that seemed as +wide-spread as the horizon.</p> +<p>"I was to tell you that the enemy has been attacking along the +whole front," the aide explained.</p> +<p>"Attacking! The Browns attacking!" Westerling exclaimed as he +gathered his wits. "Well, so much the worse for them. I rather +expected they would," he added.</p> +<p>Then through the door which the aide had left open the division +chiefs, led by Turcas, filed in. To Westerling they seemed like a +procession of ghosts. The features of one were the features of all, +graven with the weariness of the machine's treadmill. Their harness +held them up. A moving platform under their feet kept their legs +moving. They grouped around the great man's desk silently, Turcas, +his lips a half-opened seam, his voice that of crinkling parchment, +acting as spokesman.</p> +<p>"The enemy seized his advantage," he said, "when he found that +our reserves were on the march, out of touch with the wire to +headquarters."</p> +<p>Westerling forced a smile which he wanted to be a knowing +smile.</p> +<p>"Exactly! Of course their guns are making a lot of noise," he +said. "It seems strange to you, no doubt, that they and not we +should be attacking. Excellent! Let them have a turn at paying the +costs of the offensive. Let them thrash their battalions to pieces. +We want them exhausted when we go in to-night."</p> +<p>"However, we had not prepared our positions for the defensive," +continued that very literal parchment voice. "They began an assault +on our left flank first and we've just had word that they have +turned it."</p> +<p>"Probably a false report. Probably they have taken an outpost. +Order a counter-attack!" exclaimed Westerling.</p> +<p>"Nor is that the worst of it," said the vice-chief. "They are +pressing at other well-chosen points. They threaten to pierce our +centre."</p> +<p>"Our centre!" gibed Westerling. "You do need rest. Our centre, +where we have the column of last night's attack still concentrated! +If anything would convince me that I have to fight this +war-alone—I—" Westerling choked in irritation.</p> +<p>"Yes. The ground is such that it is a tactically safe and +advantageous move for Lanstron to make. He strikes at the vitals of +our machine."</p> +<p>"But what about the remainder of the force that made the charge? +What about all our guns concentrated in front of Engadir?"</p> +<p>"I was coming to that. The rout of the assaulting column was +much worse than we had supposed. Those who are strong enough cannot +be got to reform. Many were so exhausted that they dropped in their +tracks. Our guns are at this moment in retreat—or being +captured by the rush of the Browns' infantry. Your Excellency, the +crisis is sudden, incredible."</p> +<p>"Our wire service has broken down. We cannot communicate with +many of our division commanders," put in Bellini, the chief of +intelligence.</p> +<p>"Yes, our organization, so dependent on communication, is in +danger of disruption," concluded Turcas. "To avoid disorder, we +think it best to retreat across the plain to our own range."</p> +<p>At the word "retreat" Westerling sprang to his feet, his cheeks +purple, the veins of his neck and temples sculptured as he took a +threatening step toward the group, which fell back before the +physical rage of the man, all except the vice-chief, his mouth a +thin, ashy line, who held his own.</p> +<p>"You cowards!" Westerling thundered. "Retreat when we have five +millions to their three!"</p> +<p>"We have not that odds now," replied the parchment voice. "All +their men are engaged. They have caught us at a disadvantage, +unable to use our numbers except in detail in trying to hold on in +face of—"</p> +<p>"I tell you we cannot retreat!" Westerling interrupted. "That is +the end. I know what you do not know. I am in touch with the +government. Yes, I know—"</p> +<p>This brought fresh alarm into faces which had become set in grim +stoicism by many alarms. If the people were in ignorance of the +losses and the army in ignorance of the nation's feeling, the +officers of the staff were no less in ignorance of what passed over +the long-distance wire between the chief of staff and the +premier.</p> +<p>"I know what is best—I alone!" Westerling continued, +driving home his point. "Tell our commanders to hold. Neither +general nor man is to budge. They are to stick to the death. Any +one who does not I shall hold up to public shame as a poltroon. Who +knows but Lanstron's attack may be a council of desperation? The +Browns may be worse off than we are. Hold, hold! If are are tired, +they are tired. Frequently it takes only an ounce more of +resolution to turn the tide of battle. Hold, hold! To-morrow will +tell a different story! We are going to win yet! Yes, we are going +to win!"</p> +<p>"It is for you to decide, Your Excellency," said Turcas, slowly +and precisely. "You take the responsibility."</p> +<p>"I take the responsibility. I am in command!" replied Westerling +in unflinching pose.</p> +<p>"Yes, Your Excellency."</p> +<p>And they filed out of the room, leaving him to his +isolation.</p> +<p>A little later, when François came in unannounced, +bringing coffee, he found his master with face buried in hands. +Westerling was on the point of striking the valet in anger at the +discovery, but instead attempted a yawn to deceive him.</p> +<p>"I fell asleep; there's so little to worry about, +François," he explained.</p> +<p>"Yes, Your Excellency. There is no need of worrying as long as +you are in command," said François; and Westerling gulped at +the coffee and chewed at a piece of roll, which was so dry in his +mouth and so hard to swallow that he gave up the attempt.</p> +<p>After Marta had learned, over the telephone, from Lanstron of +the certain repulse of the Gray assault, fatigue—sheer +physical fatigue such as made soldiers drop dead in slumber on the +earth, their packs still on their backs—overcame her. Her +work was done. The demands of nature overwhelmed her faculties. She +slept with a nervous twitching of her muscles, a restless tossing +of her lithe body, until hammers began beating on her temples, +beating, beating with the sound of shell bursts, as if to warn her +that punishment for her share in the killing was to be the eternal +concussion of battle in her ears. At length she realized that the +cannonading was real.</p> +<p>Hastening out-of-doors, as her glance swept toward the range she +saw bursts of shrapnel smoke from the guns of the Browns nearer +than since the fighting had begun on the main line, and these were +directed at bodies of infantry that were in confused retreat down +the slopes, while all traffic on the pass road was moving toward +the rear. Impelled by a new apprehension she hurried to the tunnel. +Lanstron answered her promptly in a voice that had a ring of relief +and joy in place of the tension that had characterized it since the +outbreak of the war.</p> +<p>"Thanks to you, Marta!" he cried. "Everything goes back to +you—thanks to you came this chance to attack, and we are +succeeding at every point! You are the general, you the maker of +victories!"</p> +<p>"Yes, the general of still more killing!" she cried in +indignation. "Why have you gone on with the slaughter? I did not +help you for this. Why?"</p> +<p>No reply came. She poured out more questions, and still no +reply. She pressed the button and tried again, but she might as +well have been talking over a dead wire.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Though the morning was chill, Mrs. Galland, in a heavy coat, was +seated outside the tower door, beatifically calm and smiling; for +she would miss rejoicing over no detail of the spectacle. The +battle's sounds were sweet music—symphony of retribution. Oh, +if her husband and her father could only be with her to see the +ancient enemy in flight! Her cheeks were rosy with the happy +thrumming of her heart; a delirious beat was in her temples. She +wanted to sing and cheer and give thanks to the Almighty. The +advancing bursts of billowy shrapnel down the slopes were a +heavenly nimbus to her eyes. She breathed a silent blessing on a +man[oe]uvring Brown dirigible. They were coming! The soldiers of +her people were coming to take back their own from the robber hosts +and restore her hearth to her. Soon she would be seated on the +veranda watching the folds of her flag floating over La Tir.</p> +<p>"Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it like some good story?" she said to +Marta. "Yes, like a miracle—and there has been a Galland in +every war of the Browns and you were in this!"</p> +<p>Having no son, she had given her daughter in sacrifice on the +altar of her country's gods, who had answered with victory. Her +old-fashioned patriotism, true to the "all-is-fair-in-war" precept, +delighted in the hour of success in every trick of Marta's +double-dealing, though in private life she could have been guilty +of no deceit.</p> +<p>"Marta, Marta, I shall never tease you again about your advanced +ideas or about journeying all the way around the world without a +chaperon. Your father and my father would have approved!" She +squeezed Marta's hands and pressed them to her cheek. Marta smiled +absently.</p> +<p>"Yes, mother," she said, but in such a fashion that Mrs. Galland +was reminded again that Marta had always been peculiar. Probably it +was because she was peculiar that she had been able to outwit the +head of an army.</p> +<p>"Oh, that mighty Westerling who was going to conquer the whole +world! How does he feel now?" mused Mrs. Galland "Westerling and +his boasted power of five against three!"</p> +<p>For the Grays were barbarians to her and the Browns a people of +a superior civilization, a superior aristocracy, a superior +professional and farming and laboring class. There was nothing +about the Browns to Mrs. Galland that was not superior. War, that +ancient popular test of superiority in art, civilization, morals, +scholarship, the grace of woman and the manliness of man, had +proved her point in the high court, permitting of no appeal.</p> +<p>One man alone against the tide—rather, the man who has +seen a tide rise at his orders now finding all its sweep against +him—Westerling, accustomed to have millions of men move at +his command, found himself, one man out of the millions, still and +helpless while they moved of their own impulses.</p> +<p>As news of positions lost came in, he could only grimly repeat, +"Hold! Tell them to hold!" fruitlessly, like adjurations to the +wind to cease blowing. The bell of the long distance kept ringing +unheeded, until at last his aide came to say that the premier must +speak either to him or to the vice-chief. Westerling staggered to +his feet and with lurching steps went into the closet. There he +sank down on the chair in a heap, staring at the telephone +mouthpiece. Again the bell rang. Clenching his hands in a rocking +effort, he was able to stiffen his spine once more as he took down +the receiver. To admit defeat to the premier—no, he was not +ready for that yet.</p> +<p>"The truth is out!" said the premier without any break in his +voice and with the fatalism of one who never allows himself to +blink a fact. "Telegraphers at the front who got out of touch with +the staff were still in touch with the capital. Once the reports +began to come, they poured in—decimation of the attacking +column, panic and retreat in other portions of the +line—chaos!"</p> +<p>"It's a lie!" Westerling declared vehemently.</p> +<p>"The news has reached the press," the premier proceeded. +"Editions are already in the streets."</p> +<p>"What! Where is your censorship?" gasped Westerling.</p> +<p>"It is helpless, a straw protesting against a current," the +premier replied. "A censorship goes back to physical force, as +every law does in the end—to the police and the army; and +all, these days, finally to public opinion. After weeks of secrecy, +of reported successes, when nobody really knew what was happening, +this sudden disillusioning announcement of the truth has sent the +public mad."</p> +<p>"It is your business to control the public!" complained +Westerling.</p> +<p>"With what, now? With a speech or a lullaby? As well could you +stop the retreat with your naked hands. My business to control the +public, yes, but not unless you win victories. I gave you the +soldiers. We have nothing but police here, and I tell you that the +public is in a mob rage—the whole public, bankers and +business and professional men included. I have just ordered the +stock exchange and all banks closed."</p> +<p>"There's a cure for mobs!" cried Westerling. "Let the police +fire a few volleys and they'll behave."</p> +<p>"Would that stop the retreat of the army? We must sue for +peace."</p> +<p>"Sue for peace! Sue for peace when we have five millions against +their three!"</p> +<p>"It seems so, as the three millions are winning!" said the +premier.</p> +<p>"Sue for peace because women go hysterical? Do you suppose that +the Browns will listen now when they think they have the advantage? +Leave peace to me! Give me forty-eight hours more! I have told our +troops to hold and they will hold. I don't mistake cowardly +telegraphers' rumors for facts—"</p> +<p>"Pardon me a moment," the premier interrupted. "I must answer a +local call." So astute a man of affairs as he knew that +Westerling's voice, storming, breaking, tightening with effort at +control, confirmed all reports of disaster. "In fact, the crockery +is broken—for you and for me!" said the premier when he spoke +again. His life had been a gamble and the gamble had turned against +him in playing for a great prize. There was an admirable stoicism +in the way he announced the news he had received from the local +call: "The chief of police calls me up to say that the uprising is +too vast for him to hold. There isn't any mutiny, but his men +simply have become a part of public opinion. A mob of women and +children is starting for the palace to ask me what I have done with +their husbands, brothers, sons, and fathers. They won't have to +break in to find me. I'm very tired. I'm ready. I shall face them +from the balcony. Yes, Westerling, you and I have achieved a place +in history, and they're far more bitter toward you than me. +However, you don't have to come back."</p> +<p>"No, I don't have to go back! No, I was not to go back if I +failed!" said Westerling dizzily.</p> +<p>Again defiance rose strong as the one tangible thought, born of +his ruling passion. It was inconceivable that so vast an ambition +should fail. Failure! He defied it! He burst into the main staff +room, where the tired officers regarded him with a glare, or +momentary, weary wonder, and continued packing up their papers for +departure. He went on into the telegraphers' room. Some of the +operators were packing their instruments.</p> +<p>"The news? What is the news?" Westerling asked hoarsely.</p> +<p>An operator who was still at the key, without even half rising +let alone saluting, glanced up from the cavernous sockets of eyes +unawed by the chief of staff's presence.</p> +<p>"All that comes in is bad," he said. "Where we get none because +the wires are down we know it's worse. We've been licked."</p> +<p>He went on sending a message, wholly oblivious of Westerling, +who stumbled back into the staff room and paused inarticulate +before Turcas.</p> +<p>"The army is going—resisting by units, but going. It has +made its own orders!" Turcas said. The other division chiefs nodded +in agreement. "Your Excellency, we are doing our best," added the +vice-chief, holding the door for Westerling to return to his own +office. "The nation is not beaten. Given breathing time for +reorganization, the army will settle down to the defensive on our +own range. There the enemy may try our costly tactics against the +precision and power of modern arms, if they choose. No, the nation +is not beaten."</p> +<p>The nation! Westerling was not thinking of the nation.</p> +<p>"You—" he began, looking around from face to face.</p> +<p>Not one showed any sign of softening or deference, and, his mind +a blank, he withdrew, driven back to his isolation by an inflexible +ostracism. The world had come to an end. Public opinion was +master—master of his own staff. He sank down before his desk, +staring, just staring; hearing the roar of battle which was drawing +nearer; staring at the staff orderlies, who came in to take down +the wall maps, and at his aide packing up the papers and leaving +him in a room bare of all the appurtenances of his position, with +little idea in his coma of despair of the hour or even that time +was passing. Finally, some one touched him on the shoulder. He +looked up to see his aide at his elbow saluting and +François, his valet, standing by with an overcoat.</p> +<p>"We must go, Your Excellency," said the aide.</p> +<p>"Go?" asked Westerling dazedly.</p> +<p>"Yes, the staff has already gone to a new headquarters."</p> +<p>The announcement was the needle prick that once more aroused him +to a sense of his situation. He rose and struck his fist on the +desk in a pulsing outbreak of energy and stubbornness.</p> +<p>"But I stay! I stay!" he cried. "The enemy is not near. He can't +be!"</p> +<p>"Very near, general. You can see for yourself, said the +aide.</p> +<p>"I will!" Westerling replied. "I will see how the conspiracy of +the staff has made ruin of my plans!"</p> +<p>Again something of his old manner returned; something of the +stoic's fatalism flashed in his eye. He shook his head to +François, refusing to slip his arms into the sleeves of the +coat which François dropped on to his shoulders.</p> +<p>"Yes, I will see for myself!" he repeated, as he led the way out +to the veranda. "I'll see what goblin scared my pusillanimous staff +and robbed me of victory!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Every cry of triumph in war is paid for by a cry of pain. On one +side, anguish of heart; on the other, inexpressible ecstasy. The +Gray staff were oblivious of fatigue in the glum, overpowering +necessity of restoring the organization of the Gray army for a +second stand. The Brown staff were oblivious of fatigue in the +exhilaration of victory.</p> +<p>Had a picture of the sight which the judge's son had witnessed +at dawn in the path of the attack and the counter-attack been +thrown on the wall of the big lobby room of the Brown headquarters, +there might have been less exultation on the part of the junior +officers of the staff gathered there. They were not seeing or +thinking of the dead. They were seeing only brown-headed pins +pushing gray-headed pins out of the way on the map, as the symbol +of an attack become a pursuit and of better than their dreams come +true—the symbol of security for altar fires and race and +nation. They were of the living, in the mightiest thrill that a +soldier may know.</p> +<p>No doubt now! No more suspense! Labor and sacrifice rewarded! +Fervent thanks to the Almighty were mingled with whistled snatches +of wedding marches and popular songs. An aide taking a message to +the wire preferred leaping over a chair to going around it. A +subaltern and a colonel danced together. Victory, victory, victory +out of the burr of automatics, the pounding of artillery, the +popping roar of rifles! Victory out of the mire of trenches after +brain-aching strain! Victory for you and for me and for sweethearts +and wives and children! Aren't we all Browns, orderly and captain, +boyish lieutenant and gray-haired general? A taciturn martinet of a +major hugged a telegrapher to whom he had never spoken a single +unofficial word. Hadn't the telegraphers, those silent men who were +the tongue of the army, received the good news and passed it on? +Some officers who could be spared from duty went to their quarters, +where they dropped like falling logs on their beds. To them, after +their spell of rejoicing, victory meant sleep for the first time in +weeks without forked lightnings of apprehension stabbing their +sub-consciousness.</p> +<p>Fellowship was in the victory, the fellowship which, developed +under Partow, who believed that Napoleons and Colossi and gods in +the car and all such gentlemen belonged to an archaic farce-comedy, +had grown under Lanstron. "The staff reports," began the messages +that awakened a world, retiring with the idea that the Browns were +grimly holding the defensive, to the news that three millions had +outgeneralled and defeated five.</p> +<p>In the inner room, whose opening door gave glimpses of Lanstron +and the division chiefs, a magic of secret council which the +juniors could not quite understand had wrought the wonder. Lanstron +had not forgotten the dead. He could see them; he could see +everything that happened. Had not Partow said to him: "Don't just +read reports. Visualize men and events. Be the artillery, be the +infantry, be the wounded—live and think in their places. In +this way only can you really know your work!"</p> +<p>His elation when he saw his plans going right was that of the +instrument of Partow's training and Marta's service. He pressed the +hands of the men around him; his voice caught in his gratitude and +his breaths were very short at times, like those of a spent, happy +runner at the goal. Feeding on victory and growing greedy of more, +his division chiefs were discussing how to press the war till the +Grays sued for peace; and he was silent in the midst of their talk, +which was interrupted by the ringing of the tunnel telephone. When +he came out of his bedroom, Lanstron's distress was so evident that +those who were seated arose and the others drew near in inquiry and +sympathy. It seemed to them that the chief of staff, the head of +the machine, who had left the room had returned an individual.</p> +<p>"The connection was broken while we were speaking!" he said +blankly. "That means it must have been cut by the enemy—that +the enemy knows of its existence!"</p> +<p>"Perhaps not. Perhaps an accident—a chance shot," said the +vice-chief.</p> +<p>"No, I'm sure not," Lanstron replied. "I am sure that it was cut +deliberately and not by her."</p> +<p>"The 53d Regiment is going forward in that direction—the +same regiment that defended the house—and it can't go any +faster than it is going," the vice-chief continued, rather +incoherently. He and the others no less felt the news as a personal +blow. Though absent in person, Marta had become in spirit an +intimate of their hopes and councils.</p> +<p>"She is helpless—in their power!" Lanstron said. "There is +no telling what they might do to her in the rage of their +discovery. I must go to her! I am going to the front!"</p> +<p>The announcement started a storm of protest.</p> +<p>"But you are the chief of staff! You cannot leave the +staff!"</p> +<p>"You've no right to expose yourself!"</p> +<p>"A chance shell or bullet—"</p> +<p>"You do not seem to realize what this victory means to you. You +might be killed at the very moment of triumph."</p> +<p>"I haven't had any triumph. But if I had, could there be a +better time?" Lanstron asked with a half-bantering smile.</p> +<p>"You couldn't reach there before the 53d Regiment anyway!" +declared the vice-chief, having in mind the fact that the staff was +fifteen miles to the rear, where it could be at the wire focus. +"You will find the roads blocked with the advance. You'll have to +ride, you can't go all the way in a car."</p> +<p>"Terrible hardship!" replied Lanstron. "Still, I'm going. Things +are well in hand. I can keep in touch by the wire as I proceed. If +I get out of touch then you," with a nod to the vice-chief, "know +as well as I how to meet any sudden emergency. Yes, you all know +how to act—we're so used to working together. The staff will +follow as soon as the Galland house is taken. We shall make our +headquarters there. I'm free now. I can be my own man for a little +while—I can be human!"</p> +<p>A certain awe of him and of his position, born of the prestige +of victory, hushed further protest. Who if not he had the right to +go where he pleased in the Brown lines now? They noted the +eagerness in his eyes, the eagerness of one off the leash, shot +with a suspense which was not for the fate of the army, as he left +headquarters.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>A young officer of the Grays who was with a signal-corps +section, trying to keep a brigade headquarters in touch with the +staff during the retreat, two or three miles from the Galland +house, had seen what looked like an insulated telephone wire at the +bottom of a crater in the earth made by the explosion of a heavy +shell. The instructions to all subordinates from the chief of +intelligence to look for the source of the leak in information to +the Browns made him quick to see a clew in anything unusual. He +jumped down into the crater and not only found his pains rewarded, +but that the wire was intact and ran underground in either +direction. Who had laid it? Not the Grays. Why was it there? He +called for one of his men to bring a buzzer, and it was the work of +little more than a minute to cut the wire and make an attachment. +Then he heard a woman's voice talking to "Lanny." Who was Lanny? He +waited till he had heard enough to know that it was none other than +Lanstron, the chief of staff of the Browns, and the woman must be a +spy. An orderly despatched to the chief of intelligence with the +news returned with the order:</p> +<p>"Drop everything and report to me in person at once."</p> +<p>"For this I have made my sacrifice!" Marta thought. "The killing +goes on by Lanny's orders, not by Westerling's, this time."</p> +<p>Leaving her mother to enjoy the prospect, a slow-moving figure, +trance-like, she went along the first terrace path to a point near +the veranda where the whole sweep of landscape with its panorama of +retreat magnetized her senses. Like the gray of lava, the Gray +soldiery was erupting from the range; in columns, still under the +control of officers, keeping to the defiles; in swarms and batches, +under the control of nothing but their own emotions. Mostly they +were hugging cover, from instinct if not from direction, but some +relied on straight lines of flight and speed of foot for escape. +Coursing aeroplanes were playing a new part. Their wireless was +informing the Brown gunners where the masses were thickest. This +way and that the Brown artillery fire drove retreating bodies, +prodding them in the back with the fearful shepherdry of their +shells. Officers' swords flashed in the faces of the bolters or in +holding rear-guards to their work. Officers and orderlies were +galloping hither and thither with messages, in want of wires. +Commanders had been told to hold, but how and where to hold? They +saw neighboring regiments and brigades going and they had to go. +The machine, the complicated modern war machine, was broken; the +machine, with its nerves of intelligence cut, became a thing of +disconnected parts, each part working out its own salvation. +Authority ceased to be that of the bureau and army lists. It was +that of units racked by hardship, acting on the hour's demand.</p> +<p>Gorged was the pass road, overflowing with the struggling tumult +of men and vehicles. Self-preservation breaking the bonds of +discipline was in the ascendant, and it sought the highway, even as +water keeps to the river bed. Like specks on the laboring tide was +the white of bandages. An ambulance trying to cut out to one side +was overturned. The frantic chauffeur and hospital-corps orderly +were working to extricate the wounded from their painful position. +A gun was overturned against the ambulance. A mêlée of +horses and men was forming at the foot of the garden gate in front +of the narrowing bounds of the road into the town, as a stream +banks up before a jam of driftwood. The struggle for right of way +became increasingly wild; the dam of men, horses, and wagons grew. +A Brown dirigible was descending toward the great target; but on +closer view its commander forbore, the humane impulse outweighing +the desire for retribution for colleagues in camp and mess who had +gone down in a holocaust in the aerial battles of the night.</p> +<p>Thus far the flight had seemed in the face of an unseen pursuer, +like that of an army fleeing from some power visible to itself but +not to Marta. Now she began to observe the flashes of rifles from +the crests that the rear-guards of the Grays were deserting; then +the rush of the Brown skirmish line to close quarters. Her glance +pausing long on no detail, so active the landscape with its swarms +and tumult, returned to the scene in front of the house. A Gray +field-battery, cutting out to one side of the road, knocking over +flimsier vehicles and wounded who got in the way, careening, its +drivers cursing and officers shouting, galloped out in the open +field and unlimbered to support a regiment of infantry that was +hastily intrenching as a point to steady the retreating masses on +its front and protect them in their flight when they had +passed.</p> +<p>Marta saw how desperately the gunners worked; she could feel +their fatigue. Nature had sunk in her heart a partisanship for the +under dog. She who had stood for the three against five, now stood +for the shaken, bewildered five in the cockpit under the fire of +the three. Her sympathies went out to every beaten, weary Gray +soldier. What was the difference between a Gray and a Brown? +Weren't they both made of flesh and bone and blood and nerves?</p> +<p>Under the awful spell of the panorama, she did not see +Westerling, who had stopped only a few feet distant with his aide +and his valet, nor did he notice her as the tumult glazed his eyes. +He was as an artist who looks on the ribbons of the canvas of his +painting, or the sculptor on the fragments of his statue. Worse +still, with no faith to give him fortitude except the +materialistic, he saw the altar of his god of military efficiency +in ruins. He who had not allowed the word retreat to enter his +lexicon now saw a rout. He had laughed at reserve armies in last +night's feverish defiance, at Turcas's advocacy of a slower and +surer method of attack. In those hours of smiting at a wall with +his fists and forehead, in denial of all the truth so clear to +average military logic, if he had only given a few conventional +directions all this disorder would have been avoided. His army +could have fallen back in orderly fashion to their own range. The +machine out of order, he had attempted no repair; he had allowed it +to thrash itself to pieces.</p> +<p>The splinters of its débris—steel +splinters—were lacerating his brain. He had a sense that +madness was coming and some instinct of self-preservation made the +whole scene grow misty, as he tried to resolve it out of existence +in the desire for some one object which was not his guns and his +men in demoralization. A bit of pink caught his eye—the pink +of a dress, a little girl's dress, down there at the edge of the +garden by the road, at the same moment that some guns of the +Browns, in a new position, opened on an inviting target. Over her +head was a crack and a blue tongue of smoke whipped out of nothing; +while a shower of shrapnel bullets made spurts of dust around her. +She started to run toward the terrace steps and another burst made +her run in the opposite direction, while she looked about in a +paralysis of fear and then threw herself on her face.</p> +<p>"My God! That little girl—there—there!" Westerling +exclaimed distractedly.</p> +<p>"Clarissa! Clarissa!" cried Marta, seeing the child for the +first time.</p> +<p>She started precipitately to the rescue, but a hand on her arm +arrested her and she turned to see Hugo Mallin bound past her down +the slope. Still remaining on the premises under guard while +Westerling had neglected to dispose of the case, he had the run of +the grounds that morning while the staff was feverishly preparing +for departure.</p> +<p>Marta watched him leaping from terrace to terrace. Before he had +reached Clarissa worse than shrapnel bursts happened. The spatter +of the fragments and bullets falling on either side of the road +whipped the edges of the struggling human jam inward. In the midst +of this a percussion shell struck, bursting on contact with the +road and spreading its own grist of death and the stones of the +road in a fan-shaped, mowing swath. Legs and bodies were thrown out +as if driven centrifugally by a powerful breath, with Hugo lost in +the smoke and dust of the weaving mass. He came out of it bearing +Clarissa in his arms, up the terrace steps. To Marta, this was an +isolated deed of saving life, of mercy in the midst of merciless +slaughter; a parallel to that of Stransky bringing in Grandfather +Fragini pickaback.</p> +<p>"Big fireworks!" said Clarissa Eileen as Hugo set her down in +front of Marta, whose heart was in her eyes speaking its +gratitude.</p> +<p>The artillery's maceration of the human jam suddenly ceased; +perhaps because the gunners had seen the Red Cross flag which a +doctor had the presence of mind to wave. Westerling turned from a +sight worse to him than the killing—that of the flowing +retreat along the road pressing frantically over the dead and +wounded in growing disorder for the cover of the town, and found +himself face to face with the mask-like features of that malingerer +who had told him on the veranda that the Grays could not win. Gall +flooded his brain. In Hugo he recognized something kindred to the +spirit that had set his army at flight, something tangible and +personified; and through a mist of rage he saw Hugo +smiling—smiling as he had at times at the veranda +court—and saluting him as a superior officer.</p> +<p>"Now I am going to fight," said Hugo, "if they try to cross the +white posts; to fight with all the skill and courage I can command. +But not till then. They are still in their own country and we are +not in ours. Then they, in the wrong, will attack and we, in the +right, will defend—and, God with us, we shall win."</p> +<p>Thus a second time he had given to the prayer of Marta's +children the life of action. She could imagine how steadfastly and +exaltedly he would face the invader.</p> +<p>"Thank you, Miss Galland," he said. "And say good-by to your +mother and Minna for me."</p> +<p>He was gone, without waiting for any reply, this stranger whom +her part had not permitted to know well. A thousand words striving +for utterance choked her as she watched him pass out of sight. +Westerling was regarding her with a stare which fixed itself first +on one thing and then on another in dull misery. Near by were +Bellini, the chief of intelligence, and a subaltern who had arrived +only a minute before. The subaltern was dust-covered. He seemed to +have come in from a hard ride. Both were watching Marta, as if +waiting for her to speak. She met Westerling's look steadily, her +eyes dark and still and in his the reflection of the vague +realization of more than he had guessed in her relations with +Hugo.</p> +<p>"Well," she breathed to Westerling, "the war goes on!"</p> +<p>"That's it! That's the voice!" exclaimed the subaltern in an +explosion of recognition.</p> +<p>A short, sharp laugh of irony broke from Bellini; the laugh of +one whose suspicions are confirmed in the mixture of the sublime +and the ridiculous. Marta looked around at the interruption, alert, +on guard.</p> +<p>"You seem amused," she remarked curiously.</p> +<p>"No, but you must have been," replied Bellini hoarsely. "Early +this morning, not far from the castle, this young officer found in +the crater made by a ten-inch shell a wire that ran in a conduit +underground. The wire was intact. He tapped it. He heard a voice +thanking some one for her part in the victory, and it seems that +the woman's voice that answered is yours, Miss Galland. So, General +Westerling, the leak in information was over this wire from our +staff into the Browns' headquarters, as Bouchard believed and as I +came to believe."</p> +<p>So long had Marta expected this moment of exposure that it +brought no shock. Her spirit had undergone many subtle rehearsals +for the occasion.</p> +<p>"Yes, that is true," she heard herself saying, a little +distantly, but very quietly and naturally.</p> +<p>Westerling fell back as from a blow in the face. His breath came +hard at first, like one being strangled. Then it sank deep in his +chest and his eyes were bloodshot, as a bull's in his final effort +against the matador. He raised a quivering, clenched fist and took +a step nearer her.</p> +<p>But far from flinching, Marta seemed to be greeting the blow, as +if she admitted his right to strike. She was without any sign of +triumph and with every sign of relief. Lying was at an end. She +could be truthful.</p> +<p>"Do you recall what I said in the reception-room at the hotel?" +she asked.</p> +<p>The question sent a flash into a hidden chamber of his mind. Now +the only thing he could remember of that interview was the one +remark which hitherto he had never included in his recollection of +it.</p> +<p>"You said I could not win." He drew out the words painfully.</p> +<p>"And I pleaded with your selfishness—the only appeal to be +made to you," she continued, "to prevent war, which you could have +done. When you said that you brought on this war to gratify your +ambition, I chose to be one of the weapons of war; I chose, when +driven to the wall, to be true to that part of my children's oath +that made an exception of the burglar, the highwayman, and the +invader. In war you use deceit and treachery, under the pleasanter +names of tactics and strategy, to draw men to their death in traps, +in order to increase the amount of your killing. It was strategy, +tactics, man[oe]uvres—give it any fine word you +please—that hideous and shameless part which I played. With +fire I fought fire. I fought for civilization, for my home, with +the only means I had against the wickedness of a victory of +conquest—the precedent of it in this age—a victory +which should glorify such trickery as you practised on your +people."</p> +<p>"I should like to shoot you dead!" cried Bellini.</p> +<p>"No doubt. I like your honesty in saying so," said Marta. "Why +not? The business of war is murder; and as I have engaged in it I +can claim no exception. And why shouldn't women engage in it? Why +should they be excepted from the sport when they pay so many of the +costs? It's easy to die and easy to kill. The part you force on +women is much harder. By killing me you admit me to full +equality."</p> +<p>"You—you—" But Bellini had no adequate word for her, +and his anger softened into a kind of admiration of her, of envy, +perhaps, that he had had no such adjutant. It hardened again as he +looked Westerling up and down, before turning to leave without a +salute or even a direct word.</p> +<p>"And you let me make love to you!" Westerling said in a dazed, +groping monotone to Marta.</p> +<p>Such a wreck was he of his former self that she found it amazing +that she could not pity him. Yet she might have pitied him had he +plunged into the fight; had he tried to rally one of the broken +regiments; had he been able to forget himself.</p> +<p>"Rather, you made love to yourself through me," she answered, +not harshly, not even emphatically, but merely as a statement of +passionless fact. "If you dared to endure what you ordered others +to endure for the sake of your ambition; if—"</p> +<p>She was interrupted by a sharp zip in the air. Westerling dodged +and looked about wildly.</p> +<p>"What is that?" he asked. "What?"</p> +<p>Five or six zips followed like a charge of wasps flying at a +speed that made them invisible. Marta felt a brush of air past her +cheek and Westerling went chalky white. It was the first time he +had been under fire. But these bullets were only strays. No more +came.</p> +<p>"Come, general, let us be going!" urged the aide, touching his +chief on the arm.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes!" said Westerling hurriedly.</p> +<p>François, who had picked up the coat that had fallen from +Westerling's shoulders with his start at the buzzing, held it while +his master thrust his hands through the sleeves.</p> +<p>"And this is wiser," said the aide, unfastening the detachable +insignia of rank from the shoulders of the greatcoat. "It's wiser, +too, that we walk," he added.</p> +<p>"Walk? But my car!" exclaimed Westerling petulantly.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid that the car could not get through the press in the +town," was the reply. "Walking is safer."</p> +<p>The absence in him of that quality which is the soldier's real +glory, the picture of this deserted leader, this god of a machine +who had been crushed by his machine, his very lack of stoicism or +courage—all this suddenly appealed to Marta's quick +sympathies. They had once drunk tea together.</p> +<p>"Oh, it was not personal! I did not think of myself as a person +or of you as one—only of principles and of thousands of +others—to end the killing—to save our country to its +people! Oh, I'm sorry and, personally, I'm +horrible—horrible!" she called after him in a broken, +quavering gust of words which he heard confusedly in tragic +mockery.</p> +<p>He made no answer; he did not even look around. Head bowed and +hardly seeing the path, he permitted the aide to choose the way, +which lay across the boundary of the Galland estate.</p> +<p>They had passed the stumps of the linden-trees and were in the +vacant lot on the other side, when something white fluttered toward +him, rustled by the breeze that carried it, and lay still almost at +his feet. He saw his own picture on the front page of a newspaper, +with the caption, "His Excellency, Field-Marshal Hedworth +Westerling, Chief of Staff of Our Victorious Army." He stared at +the picture and the picture stared at him as if they knew not each +other. A racking shudder swept through him. He turned his face with +a kind of resolution, appealing in its starkness, toward the battle +and his glance rested on the battery and the shattered regiment of +infantry in the fields opposite the Galland gate, under a canopy of +shrapnel smoke, bravely holding their ground.</p> +<p>"I should be there. That is the place for me!" he exclaimed with +a trace of his old forcefulness.</p> +<p>The aide's lips parted as if to speak in protest, but they +closed in silence, while a glance of deep human understanding, +dissolving the barriers of caste, passed between him and the valet, +eloquent of their approval and their loyal readiness to share the +fate of their fallen chief.</p> +<p>The canopy of shrapnel smoke grew thicker; the infantry began to +break.</p> +<p>"But, no!" said Westerling. "The place for a chief of staff is +at his headquarters."</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XLV' id="XLV"></a> +<h2>XLV</h2> +<h3>THE RETREAT</h3> +<br> +<p>Marta remained where Westerling had left her, rooted to the +ground by the monstrous spell of the developing panorama of +seemingly limitless movement. With each passing minute there must +be a hundred acts of heroism which, if isolated in the glare of a +day's news, would make the public thrill. At the outset of the war +she had seen the Browns, as part of a preconceived plan, in +cohesive rear-guard resistance, with every detail of personal +bravery a utilized factor of organized purpose. Now she saw +defence, inchoate and fragmentary, each part acting for itself, all +deeds of personal bravery lost in a swirl of disorganization. That +was the pity of it, the helplessness of engineers and of levers +when the machine was broken; the warning of it to those who +undertake war lightly.</p> +<p>The Browns' rifle flashes kept on steadily weaving their way +down the slopes, their reserves pressing close on the heels of the +skirmishers in greedy swarms. A heavy column of Brown infantry was +swinging in toward the myriad-legged, writhing gray caterpillar on +the pass road and many field-batteries were trotting along a +parallel road. Their plan developed suddenly when a swath of +gun-fire was laid across the pass road at the mouth of the defile, +as much as to say: "Here we make a gate of death!" At the same time +the head of the Brown infantry column flashed its bayonets over the +crest of a hill toward the point where the shells were bursting. +These men minded not the desperate, scattered rifle-fire into their +ranks. Before their eyes was the prize of a panic that grew with +their approach. Kinks were out of legs stiffened by long watches. +The hot breath of pursuit was in their nostrils, the fever of +victory in their blood.</p> +<p>In the defile, the impulse of one Gray straggler, who shook a +handkerchief aloft in fatalistic submission to the inevitable, +became the impulse of all. Soon a thousand white signals of +surrender were blossoming. As the firing abruptly ceased, Marta +heard the faint roar of the mighty huzzas of the hunters over the +size of their bag.</p> +<p>In the area visible to Marta was the strife of forces larger +than the largest that Napoleon ever led in battle; as large as +fought the decisive battle in the last war of the Grays. But here +was only a section of the raging whole from frontier end to +frontier end. The immensity of it! All the young manhood of a +nation employed! Marta ceased to see any particular incident of the +scene. All was confused in a red mist—red as blood. She, the +one being in that landscape who was a detached observer, felt +herself condemned to watch the war go on forever.</p> +<p>An edge of the curtain of mist lifted. Sight and mind and soul +concentrated on the nearest horror. She saw the whirlpool at the +foot of the garden, horses and men in a straggle among dead and +wounded, which had grown fiercer now that the portion of the +retreat that had not been cut off in the defile pressed forward the +more madly. She had thought of herself as ashes; as an immovable +creature of flayed nerves, incapable of raising her hand to change +the march of events. But the misery that she saw intimately, almost +within stone's throw of her door, broke the spell with its appeal. +The hectic energy of battle speeded her steps in the blessed +oblivion of action.</p> +<p>Some doctors of different regiments thrown together in the havoc +of remnants of many organizations, with the help of hospital-corps +men, were trying to extricate the wounded from among the dead. They +heard a woman's voice and saw a woman's face. They did not wonder +at her presence, for there was nothing left in the world for them +to wonder at. Had an imp from hell or an angel from heaven +appeared, or a shower of diamonds fallen from the sky, they would +not have been surprised. Their duty was clear; there was work of +their kind to do, endless work. Units of the broken machine, in the +instinct of their calling they struggled with the duty nearest at +hand.</p> +<p>"What do you need? What can I do?" Marta asked.</p> +<p>"Rest, shelter, safety for these poor fellows," answered one of +the doctors.</p> +<p>"There is the house—our house!" said Marta.</p> +<p>"My God! Aren't you men?" bellowed an officer. "Get away from +the road! Come out here! Form line! You—you; I mean you!"</p> +<p>"You who can walk—you who aren't hurt, you cowards, give +us a hand with the wounded!" shouted another doctor.</p> +<p>The soldiers were deaf to commands, but they heard a feminine +voice above the oaths and groans and heavy breathing and rustle of +pressing bodies and thrusting arms; a feminine voice, clear and +steadying in that orgy of male ferocity. It was like a chemical +precipitate clearing muddy water. Their wild glances saw a woman's +features in exaltation and in her eyes something as definite as the +fire of command. She was shaming them for their unmanliness; +shaming their panic—the foolish panic at a theatre +exit—and giving orders as if that were her part and theirs +was to obey; a woman to soldiers, the weak sex to the strong. They +did obey, under the spell of the amazing fact of her presence, in +the relief of having some simple human purpose to cling to.</p> +<p>After the work was begun they needed no urging to carry the +wounded up the terrace steps; and men who had knocked down and +trampled on the wounded were gentle with them now, under the +guidance of better impulses. How could they falter directed by a +woman unmindful of occasional shells and bullet whistles? They +begged her to go back to the house; this was no place for her.</p> +<p>But Marta did not want safety. Danger was sweet; it was +expiation. She was helping, actually helping; that was enough. She +envied the peaceful dead—they had no nightmares—as she +aided the doctors in separating the bodies that were still +breathing from those that were not; and she steeled herself against +every ghastly sight save one, that of a man lying with his legs +pinned under a wagon body. His jaw had been shot away. Slowly he +was bleeding to death, but he did not realize it. He realized +nothing in his delirium except the nature of his wound. He was +dipping his finger in the cavity and, dab by dab, writing "Kill +me!" on the wagon body. It sent reeling waves of red before her +eyes. Then a shell burst near her and a doctor cried out:</p> +<p>"She's hit!"</p> +<p>But Marta did not hear him. She heard only the dreadful crack of +the splitting shrapnel jacket. She had a sense of falling, and that +was all.</p> +<p>The next that she knew she was in a long chair on the veranda +and the vague shadows bending over her gradually identified +themselves as her mother and Minna.</p> +<p>"I remember when you were telling of the last war that you +didn't swoon at the sight of the wounded, mother," Marta +whispered.</p> +<p>"But I was not wounded," replied Mrs Galland.</p> +<p>Marta ceased to be only a consciousness swimming in a haze. With +the return of her faculties, she noticed that both her mother and +Minna were looking significantly at her forearm; so she looked at +it, too. It was bandaged.</p> +<p>"A cut from a shrapnel fragment," said a doctor. "Not deep," he +added.</p> +<p>"Do I get an iron cross?" she asked, smiling faintly. It was +rather pleasant to be alive.</p> +<p>"All the crosses—iron and bronze and silver and gold!" he +replied.</p> +<p>"You forgot platinum," she said almost playfully, as she found +nerves, muscles, and bones intact after that drop over a precipice +into a black chasm. It was like the Marta of the days before she +had undertaken to reform all creation, her mother was thinking. +"Did I help any?" she asked seriously.</p> +<p>"Well, I should say so!" declared the doctor. "I should say so!" +he repeated. "You did the whole business down there by the +gate."</p> +<p>"Yes, the whole business! I brought it all on—all! +I—" She flung a wild gesture at the landscape and then buried +her face in her hands. "Yes, I did the whole business I—I +played, smiled, lied! That awful sight—and he might not have +been writing 'kill me' if I—"</p> +<p>The doctor grasped her shoulders to keep her from rising. He +spoke the first soothing words that came to mind. There was another +shudder, an effort at control, and her hands dropped and she was +looking up with a dull steadiness.</p> +<p>"I'm not going mad!" she exclaimed. "What happened to—to +that man who was pleading for death? Did any one who had been +engaged in killing men who wanted to live kill the one who wanted +to die?"</p> +<p>"The shell burst that wounded you finished him," said the +doctor.</p> +<p>"Which, of course, was quite according to the tenets of +civilization, which wouldn't have allowed it to be done as an open +act of mercy!" said Marta. "But that is only satire. It is of no +service," she added, rising to a sitting posture to look +around.</p> +<p>The struggle by the gate was over. All the uninjured had made +good their escape. A Red Cross flag floated above the wounded and +the débris of overturned wagons. Brown skirmishers were +descending the near-by slopes and crossing the path of the cavalry +charge. Signal-corps men were spinning out their wires. A regiment +of guns were being emplaced behind a foot-hill. A returning Brown +dirigible swept over the town. All firing except occasional +scattered shots had ceased in the immediate vicinity, though in the +distance could be heard the snarl of the firmer resistance that the +Grays were making at some other point. The Galland house, for the +time being, was isolated—in possession of neither side.</p> +<p>"Isn't there something else I can do to help with the wounded?" +Marta asked. She longed for action in order to escape her +thoughts.</p> +<p>"You've had a terrible shock—when you are stronger," said +the doctor.</p> +<p>"When you have had something to eat and drink," observed the +practical Minna authoritatively.</p> +<p>Marta would not have the food brought to her. She insisted that +she was strong enough to accompany Minna to the tower. While Minna +urged mouthfuls down Marta's dry throat as she sat outside the door +of the sitting-room with her mother a number of weary, +dust-streaked faces, with feverish energy in their eyes, peered +over the hedge that bounded the garden on the side toward the pass. +These scout skirmishers of Stransky's men of the 53d Regiment of +the Browns made beckoning gestures as to a crowd, before they +sprang over the hedge and ran swiftly, watchfully, toward the +linden stumps, closely followed by their comrades. Soon the whole +garden was overrun by the lean, businesslike fellows, their glances +all ferret-like to the front.</p> +<p>"Look, Minna!" exclaimed Marta. "The giant who carried the old +man in pickaback the first night of the war!"</p> +<p>"Yes, the bold impudence of him!" said Minna. "As if there was +nothing that could stand in his way and what he wanted he would +have!"</p> +<p>But Minna was flushing as she spoke. The flush dissipated and +she drew up her chin when Stransky, looking around, recognized her +with a merry, confident wave of his hand.</p> +<p>"See, he's a captain and he wears an iron cross!" said Marta as +Stransky hastened toward them.</p> +<p>"He acts like it!" assented Minna grudgingly.</p> +<p>Eager, leviathan, his cap doffed with a sweeping gesture as he +made a low bow, Stransky was the very spirit of retributive victory +returning to claim the ground that he had lost.</p> +<p>"Well, this is like getting home again!" he cried.</p> +<p>"So I see!" said Minna equivocally.</p> +<p>Stransky drew his eyes together, sighting them on the bridge of +his nose thoughtfully at this dubious reception.</p> +<p>"I came back for the chance to kiss a good woman's hand," he +observed with a profound awkwardness and looking at Minna's hand. +"Your hand!" he added, the cast in his eyes straightening as he +looked directly at her appealingly.</p> +<p>She extended her finger-tips and he pressed his lips to them. +Then she drew back a step, a trifle pale, her eyes sad and +questioning, more than ever Madonna-like, and curled her arm around +little Clarissa Eileen, who had stolen to her mother's side.</p> +<p>"What is that?" asked Clarissa Eileen, pointing to the cross on +Stransky's breast.</p> +<p>"That," observed Stransky deliberately, "is a little piece of +metal that I got for an inspiration of manhood. It doesn't cost the +price of a day's rations, but it's one of the things which money +can't buy—not yet—in this commercial age. One of those +institutions of barbarism that we anarchists call government gave +it to me, and I'll never part with it!"</p> +<p>"Because he was a brave soldier, Clarissa," explained Marta in +simpler terms. "Because he was ready to die for his country."</p> +<p>"And for your mother!" put in Stransky, seizing Clarissa in his +great hands and lifting her lightly to the level of his face. "Oh, +I've got stories," he said to her, "a soldier-man's stories, to +tell you, young lady, one of these days—and such +stories!"</p> +<p>He crossed his eyes over his big nose in a fashion that made +Clarissa clap her hands and burst into a peal of laughter.</p> +<p>"You're an awfully funny man!" she declared as Stransky set her +down.</p> +<p>"So your mother thinks," said Stransky, blinking at Minna, who +had indulged in a smile which his remark promptly ironed out.</p> +<p>This irrepressible soldier, given so much as an inch, would be +demanding a province. But erasing a smile is not destroying the +fact of it. Stransky took heart for the charge on seeing a breach +in the enemy's lines.</p> +<p>"Yes, I was fighting for you!" he burst out to Minna. "When the +other fellows were reading letters from their sweethearts I was +imagining letters from you. I even wrote out some and posted them +from one pocket to another, in place of the regular mails."</p> +<p>"What did you say in those letters?" asked Marta.</p> +<p>"Why, you're big and awkward and cross-eyed, Stransky, but +you've a way with you, and maybe—"</p> +<p>"Humph!" sniffed Minna.</p> +<p>"I kept seeing the way you looked when you belted me one in the +face," he went on unabashed to Minna, "and knocked any anarchism +out of me that was left after the shell burst. I kept seeing your +face in my last glimpse when the Grays made me run for it from your +kitchen door before I had half a chance for the oration crying for +voice. You were in my dreams! You were in battle with me!"</p> +<p>"This sounds like a disordered mind," observed Minna. "I've +heard men talk that way before."</p> +<p>"Oh, I have talked that way to other women myself!" said +Stransky.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Minna bitterly. His candor was rather +unexpected.</p> +<p>"I have talked to others in passing on the high road," he +continued. "But never after a woman had struck me in the face. That +blow sank deep—deep—deep as what Lanstron said when I +revolted on the march. I say it to you with this"—he touched +the cross—"on my breast. And I'm not going to give you up. +It's a big world. There's room in it for a place for you after the +war is over and I'm going to make the place. Yes, I've found +myself. I've found how to lead men. My home isn't to be in the +hedgerows any more. It's to be where you are. You and I, whom +society gave a kick, will make society give us a place!" He was +eloquent in his strength; eloquent in the fire of resolution +blazing from his eyes. "And I'll be back again," he concluded. "You +can't shake me. I'll camp on your door-step. But now I've got to +look after my company. Good-by till I'm back—back to stay! +Good-by, little daughter!" he added with a wave of his hand to +Clarissa as he turned to go. "Maybe we shall have our own +automobile some day. It's no stranger than what's been happening to +me since the war began."</p> +<p>"If you don't marry him, Minna, I'll—I'll—" Mrs. +Galland could not find words for the fearful thing that she would +do.</p> +<p>"Marry him! I have only met him three times for about three +minutes each time!" protested Minna. She was as rosy as a girl and +in her confusion she busied herself retying the ribbon on Clarissa +Eileen's hair. "He called you little daughter!" she said softly to +the child as she withdrew into the tower.</p> +<p>"I am glad we didn't send Minna away when misfortune befell +her," said Mrs. Galland. "You were right about that, Marta, with +your new ideas. What a treasure she has been!"</p> +<p>Marta was scarcely hearing her mother; certainly not finding any +credit for herself in the remark. She was thinking what a simple, +what a glorious thing was a love such as Stransky's and Minna's: +the mating of a man and a woman whose brains were not +oversensitized by too complicated mentality; of a man and a woman +direct and sincere, primarily and clearly a man and a woman. Such +happiness could never be for her now; for her who had let a man +make love to her for his own undoing.</p> +<p>The skirmishers having halted beyond the linden stumps, the +reserves were stacking their rifles and dropping to rest in the +garden. The sight of the uniforms of the deliverers, of her own +people, stirred Mrs. Galland to unwonted activity. She moved here +and there among them with smiles of mothering pride. She told them +how brave they were; how her husband had been a colonel of Hussars +in the last war. They must be tired and hungry. She hurried in to +Minna, and together they emptied the larder of everything, even to +the lumps of sugar, which were impartially bestowed.</p> +<p>But Marta remained in the chair by the doorway of the tower, +weak and listless. She was weary of the sight of uniforms and +bayonets. In the dreary opaqueness of her mind flickered one tiny, +bright light as through a blanket; that she herself had been in +danger. She had been under fire. She had not merely sent men to +death; she had been in death's company.</p> +<p>Now her lashes were closed; again they opened slightly as her +gaze roved the semicircle of the horizon. A mounted officer and his +orderly galloping across the fields to the pass road caught her +desultory attention and held it, for they formed the most impetuous +object on the landscape. When the officer alighted at the foot of +the garden and tossed his reins to the orderly, she detected +something familiar about him. He leaped the garden wall at a bound +and, half running, came toward the tower. Not until he lifted his +cap and waved it did she associate this lithe, dapper artillerist +with a stooped old gardener in blue blouse and torn straw hat who +had once shuffled among the flowers at her service.</p> +<p>"Hello! Hello!" he shouted in clarion greeting at sight of her. +"Hello, my successor!"</p> +<p>Only in the whiteness of his hair was he like the old Feller. +His tone, the boyish sparkle of his black eyes, those full, +expressive lips playing over the brilliant teeth, his easy grace, +his quick and telling gestures—they were of the Feller of +cadet days. Something in his look as he stopped in front of her +startled Marta. Suddenly he bent over and drew down his face, with +dropping underlip.</p> +<p>"I'm deaf—stone deaf, if you please!" he wheezed in senile +fashion.</p> +<p>She had to laugh and he laughed, too, with the ringing tone of +youth that made him seem younger than his years.</p> +<p>"Not a gardener—a colonel of artillery, in the uniform, +under the flag again, thanks to you!" he cried. "An officer once +more!"</p> +<p>"I'm glad!" she exclaimed. Here was one thing more to the credit +of war.</p> +<p>"Thanks to you, instead of being shot as a spy—thanks to +you!" More than the emotion of the brimming gratitude of his heart +shone through his mobile features.</p> +<p>"It was your choice; you improved it. You fulfilled a faith that +I had in you," she said.</p> +<p>"Faith in me! That is the finest tribute of all—better +than this, better than this!" He touched the iron cross on his coat +as Stransky had to Minna.</p> +<p>"And I took your place," said Marta with a dull, slow +emphasis.</p> +<p>Yes, he did owe much to her, she was thinking. In his place she +had lied; his part she had played in shame and no future act, she +felt, could ever expiate it. The teacher of peace, she had become +the partisan of war in wicked cunning.</p> +<p>He guessed nothing of what lay behind her words. He had +forgotten her children's school.</p> +<p>"And did my work better than I could! You are wonderful, +wonderful!" He was aglow with admiration, with awe, with +adoration.</p> +<p>She smiled faintly, bitterly, while he burst into a flood of +talk.</p> +<p>"I was back with the guns you had given me when I heard that you +were taking my place. Then I thought, can I be worthy of +this—of what you have done for me, giving me back my own +world, your world? I vowed I would be worthy—worthy of you. +Heavens! How I made the guns play—bang-bang-bang!" He cupped +his bands over his eyes as an imaginary range-finder, sweeping the +field. "Oh, they are beautiful guns, these new models! With a +battalion I won a regiment. I asked Lanny to tell you; did he?"</p> +<p>"Yes, and also of the iron cross."</p> +<p>"A fine bit of metal, the cross, and they have not been giving +them too promiscuously, either," said Feller. "But they're not +gun-metal! That is the real metal. It was my guns that closed the +gate to the pass," he went on, swept by the flood of enthusiasm. "I +didn't open fire till I could concentrate so as to make a solidly +locked gate. I tell you, the guns are the thing! You ought to have +seen that retreat curl up on itself. And where the shells struck on +the hard road—phew! They lifted the Grays upward to meet +shrapnel pounding them from the sky! We could have torn the whole +Column to pieces if they hadn't surrendered. What a bag of rifles +and guns and stores is going to our capital! Oh, our friends the +Grays were a little too fast! They didn't know what the guns meant +in defence. The guns—they are back to their old place of +glory! They rule!"</p> +<p>"Was it your guns that fired into the mêlée there +by the gate?" Marta asked.</p> +<p>"Yes. I saw that soft target early. They put up a Red Cross flag +at first, but I soon realized that it wasn't any dressing station; +only stragglers; only the kind that run away without orders. So I +let them have it, for that's the law of war, and the way they would +give it to us and did, more than once. But I took care that no +shots were fired at the house, though if it had not been your house +I'd have sent a shell or two on the chance that some of the Gray +staff might still be there. Then, after the surrender, I kept +spanking that lot with intermittent shells till I was sure the Red +Cross flag was justified."</p> +<p>"The fire was very accurate, as I happen to know, for it wounded +me," said Marta.</p> +<p>So intent had he been in talking to his audience, to her eyes, +that now for the first time he noticed the bandage on her forearm. +His impressionable features were as struck with alarm and horror at +sight of the tiny red spot as if she had been in danger of +immediate death.</p> +<p>"You—you were down by the road?" he gasped. "My guns were +firing at you? Why—how?"</p> +<p>"Helping with the wounded."</p> +<p>"The Gray wounded?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Of course, you would—with any wounded!" he cried. +"Splendid! Like you! It is not bad? It does not pain you?"</p> +<p>He bent over the red spot, his lips very near it and twitching, +all his volatile force melting into solicitude and his voice taut, +as if he himself were suffering the anguish of a dozen wounds.</p> +<p>"Only a scratch. Don't worry about it!" she assured him +soothingly, with a peculiar smile.</p> +<p>Now he made a gesture of amazement, catching at another thought +that darted as a shooting star across his mind.</p> +<p>"Wonderful—wounded! Wonderful! Was there ever such a +woman?" he cried. "No, I knew from the first there never was. The +minute the way was clear and I could be spared from my guns I came +to you—to you! This time I come not as a deaf, cringing, +watery-eyed old gardener"—for an instant he was the +gardener—"but as one of your world, to which I was bred," and +his shoulders, rising, filled out his uniform in the grace of the +commander of men in action. "Destiny has played with us. It sent a +spy to your garden. It put you in my place. A strange service, +ours—yes, destiny is in it!"</p> +<p>"Yes," she breathed painfully, his suggestion striking deep.</p> +<p>She was staring at the ground, her face very still. Yes, it was +he who had started the train of circumstances that had left her +with a memory more tragic than the one that had whitened his hair. +His memory was already erased. What could ever erase hers? He had +begun anew. How could she ever begin anew? The fact of this man +talking of everything as destiny—of the slaughter, the +misery, as destiny—was the worst mockery of all. Yet he was +true to himself. His enjoyed facility of fervid expression, his +boyishness, his gift of making the lived moment the greatest of his +life, was the very gift she had craved to make her forget her +yesterdays. Only faintly did she hear his next outburst, until he +came to the end.</p> +<p>"I come with the question which I had sealed in my lonely +heart," he was saying, "while I lived a lie and trimmed rose-bushes +and hung on your words. You saved me. I fought for you. You were in +my eyes, in my angers, in my brain as I directed the fire of my +guns. 'She will be pleased to hear that I am a colonel!' I kept +thinking. I love you! I love you!"</p> +<p>Marta started up from her chair, her eyes moist and open wide, +amazed, but growing kind and troubled. Had she been guilty of +giving him hope? Was there something in her that had led him on, a +shame that came natural to her since she had let Westerling proceed +with his love? Her guilt in Feller's case was worse than in +Westerling's. A thousand Westerlings were not worth one Feller. And +he had been near her, near as a comrade, in imagination, with his +ready suggestions of how to play her part in its most exacting +moments! While he stood, the picture of the eager, impatient lover +trembling for an answer that seemed to mean heaven or perdition for +him, the kindness that went with the trouble in her eyes warmed to +fondness, as she laid her fingers on his shoulder.</p> +<p>"You would want me to love you, wouldn't you?" she asked gently. +"And if I cannot? Yes, if I can neither act nor play at love, so +real must love be to me?"</p> +<p>He turned miserable, with eyes seeming to sink into his head, +and body to wilt in the dejection of that pitiful, hopeless +attitude when his secret had been discovered in the tower +sitting-room.</p> +<p>"Act! Act!" he murmured.</p> +<p>"Yes." Her fingers exercised the faintest pressure on his +shoulder. "Your true love, your one enduring love, is the guns. All +other loves come and go. To-morrow, if not, next day, in this big, +throbbing world, with your future assured, as you lived other great +moments you would look back on this moment as another part that you +had acted—and so beautifully acted."</p> +<p>"Act! Act!" he repeated, like one who is coming to grip with +facts.</p> +<p>For a period he stared at the ground before he reached for the +hand on his shoulder, which he pressed in both of his, looking +soberly into her eyes. He smiled; smiled apparently at a memory, +let her hand drop, and raised his own hands, palms out, in a +gesture of good-humored comprehension.</p> +<p>"You know me!" he exclaimed. "But I did it well, didn't I?" he +asked, after a pause.</p> +<p>"Beautifully. I repeat, it was convincingly real," she replied, +laughing in relief.</p> +<p>"If I hadn't, it would have been most disappointing after all my +rehearsals," he went on. "Yes, you know me! Why, I might have been +wanting to break the engagement in a week because I was beginning +other rehearsals!" He laughed, too, as if relishing the prospect. +"Yes, I act—act always, except with the guns. They alone are +real!" he burst out in joyous fury. "We are going on, I and my +guns, on to the best yet—on in the pursuit! Nothing can stop +us! We shall hit the Grays so fast and hard that they can never get +their machine in order again. God bless you! Everything that is +fine in me will always think finely of you! You and Lanny—two +fixed stars for me!"</p> +<p>"Truly!" She was radiant. "Truly?" she asked wistfully.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes—a yes as real as the guns!"</p> +<p>"Then it helps! Oh, how it helps!" she murmured almost +inaudibly.</p> +<p>"Good-by! God bless you!" he cried as he started to go, adding +over his shoulder merrily: "I'll send you a picture post-card from +the Grays' capital of my guns parked in the palace square."</p> +<p>She watched him leap the garden wall as lightly as he had come +and gallop away, an impersonation of the gay, adventurous spirit of +war, counting death and wounds and hardship as the delights of the +gamble. Yes, he would follow the Grays, throwing shells in the +irresponsible joy of tossing confetti in a carnival. Pursuit! Was +Feller's the sentiment of the army? Were the Browns not to stop at +the frontier? Were they to change their song to, "Now we have ours +we shall take some of theirs"? The thought was fresh fuel to the +live coals that still remained under the ashes.</p> +<p>A brigade commander and some of his staff-officers near by +formed a group with faces intent around an operator who was +attaching his instrument to a field-wire that had just been reeled +over the hedge. Marta moved toward them, but paused on hearing an +outburst of jubilant exclamations:</p> +<p>"A hundred thousand prisoners!"</p> +<p>"And five hundred guns!"</p> +<p>"We're closing in on their frontier all along the line!"</p> +<p>"It's incredible!"</p> +<p>"But the word is official—it's right!"</p> +<p>From mouth to mouth—a hundred thousand prisoners, five +hundred guns—the news was passed in the garden. Eyes dull +with fatigue began flashing as the soldiers broke into a cheer that +was not led, a cheer unlike any Marta had heard before. It had the +high notes of men who were weary, of a terrible exultation, of +spirit stronger than tired legs and as yet unsatisfied. Other +exclamations from both officers and men expressed a hunger whetted +by the taste of one day's victory.</p> +<p>"We'll go on!"</p> +<p>"We'll make peace in their capital!"</p> +<p>"And with an indemnity that will stagger the world!"</p> +<p>"Nothing is impossible with Lanstron. How he has worked it +out—baited them to their own destruction!"</p> +<p>"A frontier of our own choosing!"</p> +<p>"On the next range. We will keep all that stretch of plain +there!"</p> +<p>"And the river, too!"</p> +<p>"They shall pay—pay for attacking us!"</p> +<p>Pay, pay for the drudgery, the sleepless nights, the dead and +the wounded—for our dead and wounded! No matter about theirs! +The officers were too intent in their elation to observe a young +woman, standing quite still, her lips a thin line and a deep blaze +in her eyes as she looked this way and that at the field of faces, +seeking some dissentient, some partisan of the right. She was +seeing the truth now; the cold truth, the old truth to which she +had been untrue when she took Feller's place. There could be no +choice of sides in war unless you believed in war. One who fought +for peace must take up arms against all armies. Her part as a spy +appeared to her clad in a new kind of shame: the desertion of her +principles.</p> +<p>Nor did the officers observe a man of thirty-five, wearing the +cords of the staff and a general's stars, coming around the corner +of the house. Marta's feverish, roving glance had noted him +directly he was in sight. His face seemed to be in keeping with the +other faces, in the ardor of a hunt unfinished; hand in blouse +pocket, his bearing a little too easy to be conventionally +military—the same Lanny.</p> +<p>She was dimly conscious of surprise not to find him changed, +perhaps because he was unaccompanied by a retinue or any other +symbol of his power. He might have been coming to call on a Sunday +afternoon. In that first glimpse it was difficult to think of him +as the commander of an army. But that he was, she must not forget. +She was shaken and trembling; and a mist rose before her, so that +she did not see him clearly when, with a gesture of relief, he saw +her.</p> +<p>"Lanstron!" exclaimed an officer in the first explosive breath +of amazement on recognizing him; then added: "His Excellency, the +chief of staff!"</p> +<p>But the one word, Lanstron, had been enough to thrill all the +officers into silence and ramrod salutes. Marta noted the deference +of their glances as they covertly looked him over. On what meat had +our Cæsar fed that he had grown so great? This was the man +who had pleaded with her to allow a spy in her garden; for whom she +herself had turned spy. To-morrow his name would be in the +head-lines of every newspaper in the world. His portrait would +become as familiar to the eyes of the world as that of the +best-advertised of kings. He was the conqueror whose commonplace +sayings would be the sparks of genius because the gamble of war had +gone his way. He had grown so great by sending shells into the +stricken eddy at the foot of the garden and driving punishing +columns against the retreating masses in the defile. The god in the +car and of the machine, with his quiet manner, his intellectual +features; this one-time friend, more subtle in pursuit of the same +ambitions than the blind egoism of Westerling! These officers and +men and all officers and men and herself were pawns of his plans +and his will. Yes, even herself. Had he stopped with the repulse of +the enemy? No. Would he stop now? No. Her disillusion was complete. +She knew the truth; she felt it as steel stiffening against him and +against every softer impulse of her own.</p> +<p>"I wanted a glimpse of the front as well as the rear," Lanstron +remarked in explanation of his presence to the general of brigade +as he passed on toward Marta, who was thinking that she, at least, +was not in awe of him; she, at least, saw clearly and truly his +part.</p> +<p>"Marta! Marta!"</p> +<p>Lanstron's voice was tremulous, as if he were in awe of her, +while he drank in the fact that she was there before him at arms' +length, safe, alive. She did not offer her hand in greeting. She +was incapable of any movement, such was her emotion; and he, too, +was held in a spell, as the reality of her, after all that had +passed, filled his eyes. He waited for her to speak, but she was +silent.</p> +<p>"Marta—that bandage! You have been hurt?" he +exclaimed.</p> +<p>Unlike Feller, he had not been so obsessed with a purpose as to +be blind to externals. Her hostile mood was quick to recall that no +smallest detail of anything under his sight ever escaped him. This +was his kind of strength—the strength that had wrecked +Westerling as a fine, intellectual process. He could act, too. In +the tone of the question, "You've been hurt?" without tragic +emphasis, was a twitching, throbbing undercurrent of horror, which +set the hand hidden in the pocket of his blouse quivering. Why care +if she were hurt? Why not think about the hundreds of thousands of +others who were wounded. Why not care for that poor fellow whose +ghastly wound kept staring at her as he wrote "Kill me!" on the +wagon body?</p> +<p>"It's the fashion to be wounded," she said, eyebrows lifted and +lashes lowered, with a nervous smile. "I played Florence +Nightingale, the natural woman's part, I believe. We should never +protest; only nurse the victims of war. After helping to send men +to death I went under fire myself, and—and that helped."</p> +<p>She could be kind to Feller but not to Lanstron. He was not a +child. He was Lanny, who, as she thought of him now, did nothing +except by calculation.</p> +<p>"Yes, that would help," he agreed, wincing as from a knife +thrust.</p> +<p>Her old taunt: sending men to death and taking no risk himself! +She saw that he winced; she realized that she had stayed words that +were about to come in a flood. Then she seemed to see him through +new lenses. He appeared drawn and pale and old, as if he, too, had +become ashes; anything but the conqueror. Her feelings grew +contradictory. Why all this fencing? How weak, how silly! She had +much to say to him—a last appeal to make. Her throat held a +dry lump. She was marshalling her thoughts to begin when the +brittle silence was broken by a rumbling of voices, a stirring of +feet, and a cheer.</p> +<p>"Lanstron! Lanstron! Hurrah for Lanstron!"</p> +<p>The soldiers in the garden did not bother with any "Your +Excellency, the chief of staff" formula when word had been passed +of his presence. Marta looked around to see their tempestuous +enthusiasm as they tossed their caps in the air and sent up their +spontaneous tribute from the depths of their lungs. Conqueror and +hero to the living, but the dead could not speak, whispered some +fiend in her heart.</p> +<p>Lanstron uncovered to the demonstration impulsively, when the +conventional military acknowledgment would have been a salute. He +always looked more like the real Lanny to her with his forehead +bare. It completed the ensemble of his sensitive features. She saw +that he was blinking almost boyishly at the compliment and noted +the little deprecatory shake of his head, as much as to say that +they were making a mistake.</p> +<p>"Thank you!" he called, and the cheeriness of his voice, she +thought, expressed his real self; the delight of victory and the +glowing anticipation of further victories.</p> +<p>"Thank <i>you</i>!" called a private with a big voice.</p> +<p>"Yes, thank <i>you</i>!" repeated some of the officers in quick +appreciation of a compliment as real as human courage.</p> +<p>"We're going to put your headquarters in the Grays' capital!" +cried the soldier with the big voice.</p> +<p>Another cheer rose at the suggestion.</p> +<p>"You will follow the staff?" Lanstron called in sudden +intensity.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, yes!" they shouted. "Yes, yes; follow you!"</p> +<p>"You think our staff led you wisely?" he continued distinctly, +slowly, and very soberly. "You think we can continue to do so? You +trust us? You trust our judgment?"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, yes!"</p> +<p>"Thank you!" he said with a long-drawn, happy breath.</p> +<p>"Thank <i>you</i>!" they shouted.</p> +<p>He stood smiling for a moment in reply to their smiles; then, +still smiling, but in a different way, he said to Marta:</p> +<p>"As you say, that helps!" with a nod toward the bandage on her +forearm and hurriedly turned away.</p> +<p>She saw him involuntarily clutch the wrist above the pocket of +his blouse to still the twitching; but beyond that there was no +further sign of emotion as he went to the telephone. She had been +about to cry out her protest against the continuance of the war in +the name of humanity, of justice, of every bit of regard he had +ever had for her. When he was through talking she should go to him +in appeal—yes, on her knees, if need be, before all the +officers and soldiers—to stop the killing; but instantly he +was through he started toward the pass road, not by the path to the +steps, but by leaping from terrace to terrace and waving his hand +gayly to the soldiers as he went. The officers stared at the sight +of a chief of staff breaking away from his communications in this +unceremonious fashion. They saw him secure a horse from a group of +cavalry officers on the road and gallop away.</p> +<p>Marta having been the object of Lanstron's attention now became +the object of theirs. It was good to see a woman, a woman of the +Browns, after their period of separation from feminine society. She +found herself holding an impromptu reception. She heard some other +self answering their polite questions; while a fear, a new kind of +fear, was taking hold of her real self; a fear inexplicable, +insidiously growing. Lanstron was still in the officers' minds +after his strange appearance and stranger departure. They began to +talk of him, and Marta listened.</p> +<p>"He said something about being a free man now!"</p> +<p>"Yes, he looked as eager as a terrier after rats."</p> +<p>"He knows what he is doing. He sees so far ahead of what we are +thinking that it's useless to guess his object. We'll understand +when it's done."</p> +<p>"How little side he has! So perfectly simple. He hardly seems to +realize the immensity of his success. In fact, none of us realizes +it; it's too enormous, overwhelming, sudden!"</p> +<p>"And no nerves!"</p> +<p>"No nerves, did you say? There you are wrong. Did you see that +hand twitching in his pocket? Of course, you've heard about the +hand? Why, he's a bundle of nerve-wires held in control; a man of +the age; master of his own machine, therefore, able to master the +machine of an army."</p> +<p>Of course, they guessed nothing of Marta's part in his success. +The very things they were saying about him built up a figure of the +type whose character she had keenly resented a few minutes +before.</p> +<p>"But, Miss Galland, you seem to know him far better than we. +This is not news to you," remarked the brigade commander.</p> +<p>"Yes, I saw the accident of his first flight when his hand was +injured," she said, and winced with horror. Never had the picture +of him as he rose from the wreck appeared so distinct. She could +see every detail of his looks; feel his twinges of pain while he +smiled. Was the revelation the more vivid because it had not once +occurred to her since the war began? It shut out the presence of +the officers; she no longer heard what they were saying. Black fear +was enveloping her. Vaguely she understood that they were looking +away at something. She heard the roar of artillery not far distant +and followed their gaze toward the knoll where Dellarme's men had +received their baptism of fire, now under a canopy of shrapnel +smoke.</p> +<p>"That's about their last stand in the tangent, their last snarl +on our soil," remarked the brigade commander.</p> +<p>"And we're raining shells on it!" said his aide. "With our +glasses we'll be able to watch the infantry go in."</p> +<p>"Yes, very well."</p> +<p>"We're all used to how it feels, now we'll see how it looks at a +distance," piped one of the soldiers.</p> +<p>Not until he had shouted to them did they notice a division +staff-officer who had come up from the road. He had a piece of +astounding news to impart before he mentioned official +business.</p> +<p>"What do you think of this?" he cried. "Nothing could stop him! +Lanstron—yes, Lanstron has gone into that charge with the +African Braves!"</p> +<p>In these days, when units of a vast army in the same uniform, +drilled in the same way, had become interchangeable parts of a +machine, the African Braves still kept regimental fame. They had +guarded the stretches of hot sand in one of the desert African +colonies of the Browns; and they had served in the jungle in the +region of Bodlapoo, which, by the way, was nominally the cause of +the war. They had fought Mohammedan fanatics and black savages. It +did not matter much to them when they died; now as well as ever. If +they had mothers or sisters they were the secrets of each man's +heart. The scapegrace youth, the stranded man of thirty who would +forget his past, the born adventurer, the renegade come a cropper, +the gentleman who had gambled, the remittance man whose remittance +had stopped, the peasant's son who had run away from home, +criminals and dreamers, some minor poets, some fairly good actors, +scholarly fellows who chanted the "Odyssey," and both oath-ripping +and taciturn, quiet-mannered fellows who could neither read nor +write found a home in the African Braves' muster-roll. Their spirit +of corps had a dervish fatalism. They had begged to have a share in +the war and Partow had consented. In the night after their long +journey, while Westerling's ram was getting its death-blow, they +had detrained and started for the front. But the Grays were going +as fast as the Braves, and they had been unable to get into +action.</p> +<p>"Wait for us! We want to be in it!" cried their impatience. +"We'll show you how they fight in Africa! Way for us!"</p> +<p>"Give them a chance!" said Lanstron.</p> +<p>This order a general of corps repeated to a general of division, +who repeated it to a general of brigade.</p> +<p>"Give them a chance! Give them a chance!"</p> +<p>Reserves along the route of their advance knew them at a glance +by their uniform, their Indian tan, and their jaunty swagger and +gave a cheer as they passed. They touched the chord of romance in +the hearts of officers, who regarded them as an archaic survival +which sentiment permitted in an isolated instance in Africa, where +it excellently served. And officers looked at one another and shook +their heads knowingly, out of the drear, hard experience in spade +approaches, when they thought of that brilliant uniform as a target +and of frontier tactics against massed infantry and gun-fire.</p> +<p>"Once will be enough," said the cynical. "There won't be many +left to tell the tale!"</p> +<p>And the African Braves knew how the army felt. They had a +reputation out of Africa to sustain, this band of exotics among the +millions of home-trained comrades. They didn't quite believe in all +this machine business. Down the slopes with their veteran stride, +loose-limbed and rhythmic, they went, past the line of the Galland +house, with no fighting in sight. What if they had to return to +Africa without firing a shot? The lugubrious prospect saddened +them. They felt that a battle should be ordered on their +account.</p> +<p>"You will take that regiment's place and it will fall back for +support, while you storm the knoll beyond!" said the brigade +commander, a twinkle in his eye.</p> +<p>"Is it much of a job, do you think?" asked the colonel of the +Braves.</p> +<p>He had two fingers' length of service colors on his blouse. Lean +he was and bony-jawed, with deep-set eyes. He loved every mother's +son of the Braves, from illiterate to the chanter of the "Odyssey"; +from peasant's son to penniless nobleman, and thought any one of +his privates rather superior to a home brigade commander.</p> +<p>"A pretty good deal. I think the Grays'll make a snappy +resistance," said the brigade commander honestly. "The way we feel +them out, they're getting back their wind, and for the first time +we'll be fighting them up-hill. Yes, there's a sting in a +retreating army's tail when it gets over its demoralization."</p> +<p>"Good!" observed the colonel as if he had a sweet taste in his +mouth.</p> +<p>"And if you find it too stiff," the brigade commander went on, +"why, I've seasoned veterans back of you who will press in to your +support."</p> +<p>"Veterans, you say, and seasoned? I have some of my own, too! +Thank you! Thank you most kindly!" said the colonel, saluting +stiffly, with a twist to the corner of his mouth. "When we need +their help it will be to bury our dead," he added. "Can we do it +alone? Will we?"</p> +<p>He passed these inquiries along the line, which rose to the +suggestion with different kinds of oaths and jests and grins and +grim whistles. The scholar suddenly transferred his affections from +the Greeks' phalanx to the Roman legions and began with the first +verse of Virgil's "Æneid." He always made the change when +action was near. "The Greeks for poetry and the Romans for war!" he +declared, and could argue his company to sleep if anybody disputed +him.</p> +<p>"I want to be in one fight. I haven't been under fire in the +whole war," Lanstron explained to the colonel, who understood +precisely the feeling.</p> +<p>"Lanstron is with us! The chief of staff is watching us!" ran +the whisper from flank to flank of the Braves. It was not wonderful +to them that he should be there. This complicated business of +running a war over a telephone was not in the ken of their +calculations. The colonel was with them, so all the generals ought +to be. "We'll show Lanstron!" determined the Braves. "We'll show +him how we fight in Africa!"</p> +<p>"With the first rush you go to the bottom of the valley; with +the second, take the knoll!" Such were the colonel's simple +tactics. "But stop on the top of the knoll. Though we'd like to +take the capital this afternoon, it's against orders."</p> +<p>Lanstron, dropping into place in the line, felt as if he were +about to renew his youth. He had the elation of his early aeroplane +flights, when he was likely to be hung on a church steeple. Now he +was not sending men to death; he was having his personal fling. It +was all very simple beside sitting at a desk with battle raging in +the distance. He dodged at the first bullet that whistled near his +head and looked rather sheepishly at the man next him, who was +grinning.</p> +<p>"Lots of fellows do that with the first one, no matter how many +times they've been under fire," said the comrade. "But if they do +it with the second one—" He dropped the corners of his mouth +with a significance that required no further comment to express his +views on that kind of a soldier.</p> +<p>"I shan't!" said Lanstron; and he kept his word.</p> +<p>"I knew by the cut of your jib you wouldn't!" observed the +Brave, speaking not to the chief of staff but to the man. What were +chiefs of staff to him? Everybody on the firing-line was simply +another Brave.</p> +<p>Lanstron liked the compliment. It pleased him better than those +endowing him with military genius. It was free of rank and +etiquette and selfishness.</p> +<p>Of such stuff were the Braves as Cæsar's veterans who +walloped the Belgæ, the adventurous ruffians of Cortez, the +swashbucklers who fought in Flanders, the followers of Bonnie +Prince Charlie, and the regulars of the American Indian campaigns. +When they rose to the charge with a yell, in a wave of scarlet and +blue, flashing with brass buttons, their silken flag rippling in +the front rank, they made a picture to please the romantic taste. +Here on the brown background of the commonplace three millions of +moderns was a patch of the color and glamour that story-tellers, +poets, artists, and moving-picture men would choose as the theme of +real military glory.</p> +<p>Intoxication of all the senses, of muscles and nerves, with the +mesmerism of movement and burning desire which calls the +imagination of youth to arms! The supreme moment of fury and +splendid rush, which becomes the recollection to the survivor to be +told from the knee to future generations in a way to make small +boys love to play with soldiers! These men knew nothing except that +they had legs and that ahead was a goal. Oaths and laughter were +mingled in their souls; the energy of a delirium sped their steps. +They were so many human missiles fired by an impulse, with too much +initial velocity to stop at the bottom of the valley as the colonel +had directed. Lord, no! Let's have the thing over with, bit in +teeth! The common instinct of the living, who neither saw nor +thought of those who fell, swept them up the slope. Every man who +survived was the whole regiment in himself; its pride, its +gallantry, its inheritance in his keeping.</p> +<p>"Fiends of hell and angels of heaven! We're here and we did it +alone!" gasped the winded, ragged line that reached the crest.</p> +<p>"I thought they would!" said the brigade commander, who had +watched the charge through his glasses from an eminence. "But at +what a cost! It was lucky for them that it was only a rear-guard +resistance. However, it certainly thrills the imagination and it +will be a good thing for Brown prestige in Africa."</p> +<p>"Why?" Marta heard the officers around her asking after their +exclamations of amazement at the news that Lanstron was going in +the charge. "Why should the chief of staff risk his life in this +fashion?"</p> +<p>Marta knew. All her taunts about sending others to death from +his office chair, uttered as the fugitive sarcasm of a mood, +recurred in the merciless hammer-beat of recollection. For a moment +she was aghast, speechless. Then the officers, occupied with the +startling news, heard a voice, wrenched from a dry throat in +anguish, saying:</p> +<p>"The telephone! Try to reach him! Tell him he must not!"</p> +<p>"We can hardly say 'must not' to a chief of staff," said the +general automatically.</p> +<p>"Tell him I ask him not to! Try to reach him—try—you +can try!"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes! Certainly!" exclaimed the general, turning to the +telephone operator.</p> +<p>He had seen now what the younger men had seen at a glance. They +were recalling Lanstron's relief at seeing her; how he had passed +them by to speak to her; the intensity of the two in their almost +wordless meeting. Her bloodless lips, the imploring passion in her +eyes, her quivering impatience told the rest.</p> +<p>"Division headquarters!" called the operator. "They're getting +brigade headquarters," he added while he waited in silence. +"Brigade headquarters says the Braves have no wire. It's too late. +The charge is starting."</p> +<p>"So it is!" cried one of the subalterns. "Look! Look!"</p> +<p>Marta looked toward the rising ground this side of the knoll in +time to see bayonets flash in the waning afternoon sunlight and +disappear as they descended the slope.</p> +<p>"There! They're up on the other slope without stopping!" +exclaimed the general. "Quick! Don't you want to see?" He offered +his glasses to Marta.</p> +<p>"No, I can see well enough," she murmured, though the landscape +was moving before her eyes in giddy waves.</p> +<p>"The madness of it! The whole slope is peppered with the +fallen!"</p> +<p>"What a cost! Magnificent, but not war. Carrying their flag in +the good old way, right at the front!"</p> +<p>"Heavens! I hope they do it!"</p> +<p>"The flag's down!"</p> +<p>"Another man has it—it's up!"</p> +<p>"Now—now—splendid! They're in!"</p> +<p>"So they are! And the flag, too!"</p> +<p>"Yes, what's left are in!"</p> +<p>"And Lanstron was there—in that!"</p> +<p>"What if—"</p> +<p>"Yes, the chief of staff, the head of the army, in an affair +like that!"</p> +<p>"The mind of the army—the mind that was to direct our +advance!"</p> +<p>"When all the honors of the world are his!"</p> +<p>Their words were acid-tipped needles knitting back and forth +through Marta's brain. Was Lanny one of those black specks that +peppered the slope? Was he? Was he?</p> +<p>"Telephone and—and see if Lanny is—is killed!" she +begged.</p> +<p>She knew not how she uttered that monstrous word killed. But +utter it she did in its naked terror. Now she knew a simpler +feeling than that of the grand sympathy of the dreamer with the +horrors of war as a whole. She knew the dumb, helpless suspense of +the womenfolk remaining at home watching for the casualty lists +that Westerling had suppressed. What mattered policies of statesmen +and generals, propagandas and tactics, to them? The concern of each +wife or sweetheart was with one—one of the millions who was +greater to the wife or the sweetheart than all the millions. Marta +was not thinking of sending thousands to death. Had she sent +<i>him</i> to death? The agony of waiting, waiting there among +these strangers, waiting for that little instrument at the end of a +wire to say whether or not he were alive, became insupportable.</p> +<p>"I'll go—I'll go out there where he is!" she said +incoherently, still looking toward the knoll with glazed eyes. She +thought she was walking fast as she started for the garden gate, +but really she was going slowly, stumblingly.</p> +<p>"I think you had better stop her if you can," said the general +to his aide.</p> +<p>The aide overtook her at the gate.</p> +<p>"We shall know about His Excellency before you can find out for +yourself," he said; and, young himself, he could put the sympathy +of youth with romance into his tone. "You might miss the road, even +miss him, when he was without a scratch, and be for hours in +ignorance," he explained. "In a few minutes we ought to have +word."</p> +<p>Marta sank down weakly on the tongue of a wagon, overturned +against the garden wall in the mêlée of the retreat, +and leaned her shoulder on the wheel for support.</p> +<p>"If the women of the Grays waited four weeks," she said with an +effort at stoicism, "then I ought to be able to wait a few +minutes."</p> +<p>"Depend on me. I'll bring news as soon as there is any," the +aide concluded, and, seeing that she wished to be alone, he left +her.</p> +<p>For the first time she had real oblivion from the memory of her +deceit of Westerling, the oblivion of drear, heart-pulling +suspense. All the good times, the sweetly companionable times, she +and Lanny had had together; all his flashes of courtship, his +outburst in their last interview in the arbor, when she had told +him that if she found that she wanted to come to him she would come +in a flame, passed in review under the hard light of her petty +ironies and sarcasms, which had the false ring of coquetry to her +now, genuine as they had been at the time. Through her varying +moods she had really loved him, and the thing that had slumbered in +her became the drier fuel for the flame—perhaps too late.</p> +<p>Her thought, her feeling was as if he were not chief of staff, +but a private soldier, and she were not a woman who had girdled the +world and puckered her brow over the solution of problems, but a +provincial girl who had never been outside her village—his +sweetheart. All questions of the army following up its victory, of +his responsibilities and her fears that he would go on with +conquest, faded into the fact of life—his life, as the most +precious thing in the world to her. For him, yes, for him she had +played the spy, as that village girl would for her lover, thinking +of warm embraces; for him she had kept steady under the strain.</p> +<p>Without him—what then? It seemed that the fatality that +had let him escape miraculously from the aeroplane accident, made +him chief of staff, and brought him victory, might well choose to +ring down the curtain of destiny for him in the charge that drove +the last foot of the invader off the soil of the Browns.... A voice +was calling.... She heard it hazily, with a sudden access of giddy +fear, before it became a cheerful, clarion cry that seemed to be +repeating a message that had already been spoken without her +understanding it.</p> +<p>"He's safe, safe, safe, Miss Galland! He was not hit! He is on +his way back and ought to be here very soon!"</p> +<p>She heard herself saying "Thank you!" But that was not for some +time. The aide was already gone. He had had his thanks in the +effect of the news, which made him think that a chief of staff +should not receive congratulations for victory alone.</p> +<p>Lanny would return through the garden. She remained leaning +against the wagon body, still faint from happiness, waiting for +him. She was drawing deeper and longer breaths that were velvety +with the glow of sunshine. A flame, the flame that Lanny had +desired, of many gentle yet passionate tongues, leaping hither and +thither in glad freedom, was in possession of her being. When his +figure appeared out of the darkness the flame swept her to her feet +and toward him. Though he might reject her he should know that she +loved him; this glad thing, after all the shame she had endured, +she could confess triumphantly.</p> +<p>But she stopped short under the whip of conscience. Where was +her courage? Where her sense of duty? What right had she, who had +played such a horrible part, to think of self? There were other +sweethearts with lovers alive who might be dead on the morrow if +war continued. The flame sank to a live coal in her secret heart. +Another passion possessed her as she seized Lanstron's hand in both +her own.</p> +<p>"Lanny, listen! Not the sound of a shot—for the first time +since the war began! Oh, the blessed silence! It's peace, +peace—isn't it to be peace?" As they ascended the steps she +was pouring out a flood of broken, feverish sentences which +permitted of no interruption. "You kept on fighting to-day, but you +won't to-morrow, will you? It isn't I who plead—it's the +women, more women than there are men in the army, who want you to +stop now! Can't you hear them? Can't you see them?"</p> +<p>In the fervor of appeal, before she realized his purpose, they +were on the veranda and at the door of the dining-room, where the +Brown staff was gathered around the table.</p> +<p>"I still rely on you to help me, Marta!" he whispered as he +stood to one side for her to enter.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XLVI' id="XLVI"></a> +<h2>XLVI</h2> +<h3>THE LAST SHOT</h3> +<br> +<p>"Miss Galland!"</p> +<p>Blinking as she came out of the darkness into the bright light, +with a lock of her dew-sprinkled dark hair free and brushing her +flushed cheek, Marta saw the division chiefs of the Browns, after +their start when Lanstron spoke her name, all stand at the salute, +looking at her rather than at him. The reality in the flesh of the +woman who had been a comrade in service, sacrificing her +sensibilities for their cause, appealed to them as a true likeness +of their conceptions of her. In their eyes she might read the +finest thing that can pass from man's to woman's or from man's to +man's. These were the strong men of her people who had driven the +burglar from her house with the sword of justice. Their tribute had +the steadfast loyalty of soldiers who were craving to do anything +in the world that she might ask, whether to go on their knees to +her or to kill dragons for her.</p> +<p>"I may come in?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Who if not you is entitled to the privilege of the staff +council?" exclaimed the vice-chief.</p> +<p>The others did not propose to let him do all the honors. Each +murmured words of welcome on his own account.</p> +<p>"We are here, thanks to you!"</p> +<p>"And, thanks to you, our flag will float over the Gray +range!"</p> +<p>She must be tired, was their next thought. Four or five of them +hurried to place a chair for her, the vice-chief winning over his +rivals, more through the exercise of the rights of rank than by any +superior alacrity.</p> +<p>"You are appointed actual chief of staff and a field-marshal!" +said the vice-chief to Lanstron. "The premier says that every honor +the nation can bestow is yours. The capital is mad. The crowds are +crying: 'On to the Gray capital!' To-morrow is to be a public +holiday and they are calling it Lanstron Day. The thing was so +sudden that the speculators who depressed our securities in the +world's markets have got their due—ruin! And we ought to get +an indemnity that will pay the cost of the war."</p> +<p>Seated at one side, Marta could watch all that passed, herself +unobserved. She noted a touch of color come to Lanstron's cheeks as +he made a little shrug of protest.</p> +<p>"It never rains but it pours!" he said. "We were all just as +able and loyal yesterday as to-day when we find ourselves heroic. +We owe our victory to Partow's plans, to the staff's industry, the +spirit of the people and the army, and—" He threw a happy +smile toward Marta.</p> +<p>"Perhaps it ought to be Galland Day rather than Lanstron Day," +remarked the vice-chief. "The crowds at the capital when they know +her part might cheer her more frenziedly than you, general."</p> +<p>"No, no—please, no!" Marta was hectic in alarm and +protest.</p> +<p>"Your secret is ours! It's in the family!" the vice-chief +hastened to assure her. Where could a secret be safe if not in the +keeping of an army staff?</p> +<p>"That was almost like teasing!" she exclaimed with a laugh of +relief.</p> +<p>"We're all in pretty good humor," remarked the vice-chief. He +seemed to have a pleasant taste in his mouth that would last him +for life.</p> +<p>Then Marta saw their faces grow businesslike and keen, as they +gathered around the table, with Lanstron at the head. They were +oblivious of her presence, immured in a man's world of war.</p> +<p>"Your orders were obeyed. We have not passed a single white post +yet!" said the vice-chief impatiently. "As the Grays never expected +to take the defensive, their fortresses are inferior. Every hour we +wait means more time for them to fortify, more time to recover from +their demoralization. Our dirigibles having command of the +air—we had a wireless from one reporting all clear half-way +to the Gray capital—why, we shall know their concentrations +while they are ignorant of ours. It's the nation's great +opportunity to gain enough provinces to even the balance of +population with the Grays. With the unremitting offensive, blow on +blow, using the spirit of our men to drive in mass attacks at the +right points, the Gray range is ours!"</p> +<p>Marta scanned the faces of the staff for some sign of dissent +only to find nothing but the ardor of victory calling for more +victory, which reflected the feeling of the coursing crowds in the +capital. Though Lanny wished to stop the war, he was only a chip on +the crest of a wave. Public opinion, which had made him an idol, +would discard him as soon as he ceased to be a hero in the likeness +of its desires. She saw him aloof as the others, in preoccupation, +bent over the map outlining the plan of attack that they had worked +out while awaiting their chief's return from the charge. He was +taking a paper from his pocket and looking from one to another of +his colleagues studiously; and she was conscious of that +determination in his smile which she had first seen when he rose +from the wreck of his plane.</p> +<p>"This is from Partow: a message for you and the nation!" he +announced, as he spread a few thin, typewritten pages out on the +table. "I was under promise never to reveal its contents unless our +army drove the Grays back across the frontier. The original is in +the staff vaults. I have carried this copy with me."</p> +<p>At the mention in an arresting tone of that name of the dead +chief, to which the day's events had given the prestige of one of +the heroes of old, there was grave attention.</p> +<p>"I think we have practically agreed that the two individuals who +were invaluable to our cause were Partow and Miss Galland," +Lanstron remarked tentatively. He waited for a reply. It was +apparent that he was laying a foundation before he went any +further.</p> +<p>"Certainly!" said the vice-chief.</p> +<p>"And you!" put in another officer, which brought a chorus of +assent.</p> +<p>"No, not I—only these two!" Lanstron replied. "Or, I, too, +if you prefer. It little matters. The thing is that I am under a +promise to both, which I shall respect. He organized and labored +for the same purpose that she played the spy. When we sent the +troops forward in a counter-attack and pursuit to clear our soil of +the Grays; when I stopped them at the frontier—both were +according to Partow's plan. He had a plan and a dream, this +wonderful old man who made us all seem primary pupils in the art of +war."</p> +<p>Could this be that terrible Partow, a stroke of whose pencil had +made the Galland house an inferno? Marta wondered as Lanstron read +his message—the message out of the real heart of the man, +throbbing with the power of his great brain. His plan was to hold +the Grays to stalemate; to force them to desist after they had +battered their battalions to pieces against the Brown +fortifications. His dream was the thing that had +happened—that an opportunity would come to pursue a broken +machine in a bold stroke of the offensive.</p> +<p>"I would want to be a hero of our people for only one aim, to be +able to stop our army at the frontier," he had written. "Then they +might drive me forth heaped with obloquy, if they chose. I should +like to see the Grays demoralized, beaten, ready to sue for peace, +the better to prove my point that we should ask only for what is +ours and that our strength was only for the purpose of holding what +is ours. Then we should lay up no legacy of revenge in their +hearts. They could never have cause to attack again. Civilization +would have advanced another step."</p> +<p>Lanstron continued to read to the amazed staff, for Partow's +message had looked far into the future. Then there was a P.S., +written after the war had begun, on the evening of the day that +Marta had gone from tea on the veranda with Westerling to the +telephone, in the impulse of her new purpose.</p> +<p>"I begin to believe in that dream," he wrote. "I begin to +believe that the chance for the offensive will come, now that my +colleague, Miss Galland, in the name of peace has turned practical. +There is nothing like mixing a little practice in your dreams while +the world is still well this side of Utopia, as the head on my old +behemoth of a body well knows. She had the right idea with her +school. The oath so completely expressed my ideas—the result +of all my thinking—that I had a twinge of literary jealousy. +My boy, if you do reach the frontier, in pursuit of a broken army, +and you do not keep faith with my dream and with her ideals, then +you will get a lesson that will last you forever at the foot of the +Gray range. But I do not think so badly as that of you or of my +judgment of men."</p> +<p>"Lanny! Lanny!"</p> +<p>The dignity of a staff council could not restrain Marta. Her +emotion must have action. She sprang to his side and seized his +hand, her exultation mixed with penitence over the why she had +wronged him and Partow. Their self-contained purpose had been the +same as hers and they had worked with a soldier's fortitude, while +she had worked with whims and impulses. She bent over him with +gratitude and praise and a plea for forgiveness in her eyes, +submerging the thing which he sought in them. He flushed boyishly +in happy embarrassment, incapable of words for an instant; and +silently the staff looked on.</p> +<p>"And I agree with Partow," Lanstron went on, "that we cannot +take the range. The Grays still have numbers equal to ours. It is +they, now, who will be singing 'God with us!' with their backs +against the wall. With Partow's goes my own appeal to the army and +the nation; and I shall keep faith with Partow, with Miss Galland, +and with my own ideas, if the government orders the army to +advance, by resigning as chief of staff—my work +finished."</p> +<p>Westerling and his aide and valet, inquiring their way as +strangers, found the new staff headquarters of the Grays +established in an army building, where Bouchard had been assigned +to trivial duties, back of the Gray range. As their former chief +entered a room in the disorder of maps and packing-cases, the +staff-officers rose from their work to stand at salute like stone +images, in respect to a field-marshal's rank. There was no word of +greeting but a telling silence before Turcas spoke. His voice had +lost its parchment crinkle and become natural. The blue veins on +his bulging temples were a little more pronounced, his thin +features a little more pinched, but otherwise he was unchanged and +he seemed equal to another strain as heavy as the one he had +undergone.</p> +<p>"We have a new government, a new premier," he said. "The old +premier was killed by a shot from a crowd that he was addressing +from the balcony of the palace. After this, the capital became +quieter. As we get in touch with the divisions, we find the army in +better shape than we had feared it would be. There is a recovery of +spirit, owing to our being on our own soil."</p> +<p>"Yes," replied Westerling, drowning in their stares and grasping +at a straw. "Only a panic, as I said. If—" his voice rising +hoarsely and catching in rage.</p> +<p>"We have a new government, a new premier!" Turcas repeated, with +firm, methodical politeness. Westerling looking from one face to +another with filmy eyes, lowered them before Bouchard. "There's a +room ready for Your Excellency up-stairs," Turcas continued. "The +orderly will show you the way."</p> +<p>Now Westerling grasped the fact that he was no longer chief of +staff. He drew himself up in a desperate attempt at dignity; the +staff saluted again, and, uncertainly, he followed the orderly, +with the aide and valet still in loyal attendance.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, the aerial scouts of the Grays were puzzled by a +moving cloud on the landscape several miles away. It filled the +highway and overflowed into the fields, without military form: +women and men of every age except the fighting age, marching +together in a sinister militancy of purpose.</p> +<p>"Bring the children, too!" cried the leaders. "They've more +right to be heard than any of us."</p> +<p>From such a nucleus it seemed that the whole population of the +land might be set in motion by a common passion. Neither the coming +of darkness nor a chill rain kept recruits from village and +farmhouse from dropping their tasks and leaving meals unfinished to +swell the ranks. What Westerling had called the bovine public with +a parrot's head had become a lion.</p> +<p>"There's no use of giving any orders, to stop this flood," said +an officer who had ridden fast to warn the Gray staff. "The police +simply watch it go by. Soldiers ready to lay down their lives to +hold the range give it Godspeed when they learn what it wants. Both +are citizens before they are soldiers or policemen. The thing is as +elemental as an earthquake or a tidal wave."</p> +<p>"Public opinion! Unanimous public opinion! Nothing can stop +that!" exclaimed Turcas in dry fatalism. "You will inform His +Excellency," he said to Westerling's aide, "that they are coming +for him—all the people are coming, and we are powerless. +And—" Even Turcas's calmness failed him and his voice caught +in a convulsive swallow.</p> +<p>"I—I understand!" the aide said thickly, and went +up-stairs.</p> +<p>He had suffered worse than in seeing his chief beaten; but even +in disillusion he was loyal. He was back immediately, and paused at +the foot of the stairs stonily, in the attitude of one who listens +for something; while the tramp of thousands of feet came pressing +in upon all sides.</p> +<p>As one great, high-pitched voice, the crowd shouted its +merciless demand; and eyes eager with the hunt as those of soldiers +in pursuit gleamed through the windows out of the darkness. +Bouchard, hawk-eyed, stern, was standing by the street door. His +mediæval spirit revolted at the thought of any kind of a mob. +For such demonstrations he had a single simple +prescription—cold lead.</p> +<p>"We cannot strike the overwhelming spirit which we would forge +into the nation's defence," said Turcas.</p> +<p>The door was flung open and Bouchard drew back abruptly at the +sight; he drew back in fear of his own nature. If any one should so +much as lay hands on him when he was in uniform, a sword thrust +would resent the insult to his officer's honor; and even he did not +want to strike grandfathers and children and mothers.</p> +<p>Two figures were in the doorway: a heavy-set market woman with a +fringe of down on her lip and a cadaverous, tidily dressed old man, +who might have been a superannuated schoolmaster, with a bronze +cross won in the war of forty years ago on his breast and his eyes +burning with the youthful fire of Grandfather Fragini's.</p> +<p>"They got the premier in the capital. We've come for Westerling! +We want to know what he did with our sons! We want to know why he +was beaten!" cried the market woman.</p> +<p>"Yes," said the veteran. "We want him to explain his lies. Why +did he keep the truth from us? We were ready to fight, but not to +be treated like babies. This is the twentieth century!"</p> +<p>"We want Westerling! Tell Westerling to come out!" rose the +impatient shouts behind the two figures in the doorway.</p> +<p>"You are sure that he has one?" whispered Turcas to Westerling's +aide.</p> +<p>"Yes," was the choking answer—"yes. It is better than +that"—with a glance toward the mob. "I left my own on the +table."</p> +<p>"We can't save him! We shall have to let them—"</p> +<p>Turcas's voice was drowned by a great roar of cries, with no +word except "Westerling" distinguishable, that pierced every crack +of the house. A wave of movement starting from the rear drove the +veteran and the market woman and a dozen others through the doorway +toward the stairs. Then the sound of a shot was heard overhead.</p> +<p>"The man you seek is dead!" said Turcas, stepping in front of +the crowd, his features unrelenting in authority. "Now, go back to +your work and leave us to ours."</p> +<p>"I understand, sir," said the veteran. "We've no argument with +you."</p> +<p>"Yes!" agreed the market woman. "But if you ever leave this +range alive we shall have one. So, you stay!"</p> +<p>Looking at the bronze cross on the veteran's faded coat, the +staff saluted; for the cross, though it were hung on rag's, +wherever it went was entitled by custom to the salute of officers +and "present arms" by sentries.</p> +<p>As news of the shot travelled among the people the cries dropped +into long-drawn breaths of thirst satiated. Their mission was +fulfilled. The tramp of their feet as they dispersed homeward +mingled with the urging of officers to weary men and the rumbling +of wagons and guns and the sound of pick and spade on the range, +where torches flickered over the heads of the working parties. But +no other shot after the one heard from Westerling's room was fired. +The Grays were at grip with the fact of disaster. An angry, wounded +animal that had failed of its kill was facing around at the mouth +of its lair for its own life.</p> +<p>"We're tired—we're all tired; but keep up—keep up!" +urged the officers. "We have a new chief of staff and there will be +no more purposeless sacrifices. It's their turn at the charge; ours +to hold. We'll give them some of the medicine they've been giving +us. God with us! Our backs against the wall!"</p> +<p>After Lanstron's announcement to the Brown staff of his decision +not to cross the frontier, there was a restless movement in the +chairs around the table, and the grimaces on most of the faces were +those with which a practical man regards a Utopian proposal. The +vice-chief was drumming on the table edge and looking steadily at a +point in front of his fingers. If Lanstron resigned he became +chief.</p> +<p>"Partow might have this dream before he won, but would he now?" +asked the vice-chief. "No. He would go on!"</p> +<p>"Yes," said another officer. "The world will ridicule the +suggestion; our people will overwhelm us with their anger. The +Grays will take it for a sign of weakness."</p> +<p>"Not if we put the situation rightly to them," answered +Lanstron. "Not if we go to them as brave adversary to brave +adversary, in a fair spirit."</p> +<p>"We can—we shall take the range!" the vice-chief went on +in a burst of rigid conviction when he saw that opinion was with +him. "Nothing can stop this army now!" He struck the table edge +with his fist, his shoulders stiffening.</p> +<p>"Please—please, don't!" implored Marta softly. "It sounds +so like Westerling!"</p> +<p>The vice-chief started as if he had received a sharp pin-prick. +His shoulders unconsciously relaxed. He began a fresh study of a +certain point on the table top. Lanstron, looking first at one and +then at another, spoke again, his words as measured as they ever +had been in military discussion and eloquent. He began outlining +his own message which would go with Partow's to the premier, to the +nation, to every regiment of the Browns, to the Grays, to the +world. He set forth why the Browns, after tasting the courage of +the Grays, should realize that they could not take their range. +Partow had not taught him to put himself in other men's places in +vain. The boy who had kept up his friendship with engine-drivers +after he was an officer knew how to sink the plummet into human +emotions. He reminded the Brown soldiers that there had been a +providential answer to the call of "God with us!" he reminded the +people of the lives that would be lost to no end but to engender +hatred; he begged the army and the people not to break faith with +that principle of "Not for theirs, but for ours," which had been +their strength.</p> +<p>"I should like you all to sign it—to make it simply the +old form of 'the staff has the honor to report,'" he said +finally.</p> +<p>There was a hush as he finished—the hush of a deep +impression when one man waits for another to speak. All were +looking at him except the vice-chief, who was still staring at the +table as if he had heard nothing. Yet every word was etched on his +mind. The man whose name was the symbol of victory to the soldiers, +who would be more than ever a hero as the news of his charge with +the African Braves travelled along the lines, would go on record to +his soldiers as saying that they could not take the Gray range. +This was a handicap that the vice-chief did not care to accept; and +he knew how to turn a phrase as well as to make a soldierly +decision. He looked up smilingly to Marta.</p> +<p>"I have decided that I had rather not be a Westerling, Miss +Galland," he said. "We'll make it unanimous. And you," he burst out +to Lanstron—"you legatee of old Partow; I've always said that +he was the biggest man of our time. He has proved it by catching +the spirit of our time and incarnating it."</p> +<p>Vaguely, in the whirl of her joy, Marta heard the chorus of +assent as the officers sprang to their feet in the elation of being +at one with their chief again. Lanstron caught her arm, fearing +that she was going to fall, but a burning question rose in her mind +to steady her.</p> +<p>"Then my shame—my sending men to slaughter—my +sacrifice was not in vain?" she exclaimed.</p> +<p>Misery crept into her eyes; she seemed to be seeing some horror +that would always haunt her. These businesslike men of the council +were touched by a fresh understanding of her and of the reason for +her success, which had demanded something more than human +art—something pure and fine and fearless underneath art. They +sought to win one more victory that should kill her memory of what +she had done.</p> +<p>"Miss Galland," said the vice-chief, "Westerling's fate, +whatever it is, would have been the same. He could never have taken +our range. He would have only more lives to answer for, and +Partow's dream could not have come true."</p> +<p>"You think that—you—all of you?" she asked.</p> +<p>"All! All!" they said together.</p> +<p>"Yes, but for you the losses on both sides would have been +greater—hundreds of thousands greater," concluded the +vice-chief. "And to-night I think you helped me to see right; you +struck a light in my mind when I was about to forget the law of +service."</p> +<p>"You see, then, you did hasten the end, Marta," said +Lanstron.</p> +<p>"Yes, I do see, Lanny!" she whispered. She was weak now, with no +spur to her energy except her happiness as she leaned on his arm. +Then he felt an impulsive pressure as she looked up at him. "The +law of service, as you say!" she said, turning to the vice-chief. +"Isn't that the finest law of all? Couldn't I help you with the +appeal? Perhaps I might put in it a thought to reach the women. +They are a part of public opinion"</p> +<p>"I was going to suggest it, but you seemed so weary that I +hadn't the heart," said Lanstron.</p> +<p>"Just the thing—the mothers, wives, and sweethearts!" +declared the vice-chief.</p> +<p>"I'm not a bit tired now!" Marta assured them brightly. "I'm +fresh for the fight again."</p> +<p>"Another thing," added Lanstron, "we ought to have the backing +of the corps and division commanders."</p> +<p>"Precisely," agreed the vice-chief. "We want to make sure of +this thing. We'd look silly if the old premier ordered the army on +and left us high and dry; and it would mean certain disaster. Shall +I get them on the telephone?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Lanstron.</p> +<p>It was long after midnight when the collaborative composition of +that famous despatch was finished.</p> +<p>"Now I'm really tired, Lanny," said Marta as she arose from the +table. "I can think only of prayers—joyful little prayers of +thanks rising to the stars."</p> +<p>She slipped her arm through his. As they moved toward the door +the chiefs of divisions, keeping to the etiquette that best +expressed their soldierly respect, saluted her.</p> +<p>"If this were told, few would believe it; nor would they believe +many other things in the inner history of armies which are forever +held secret," thought the vice-chief.</p> +<p>Outside, the stars were twinkling to acknowledge those little +prayers of thanks, and the night was sweet and peaceful, while the +army slept.</p> +<hr style='width: 65%;'> +<a name='XLVII' id="XLVII"></a> +<h2>XLVII</h2> +<h3>THE PEACE OF WISDOM</h3> +<br> +<p>The sea of people packed in the great square of the Brown +capital made a roar like the thunder of waves against a breakwater +at sight of a white spot on a background of gray stone, which was +the head of an eminent statesman.</p> +<p>"It looks as if our government would last the week out," the +premier chuckled as he returned to his colleagues at the cabinet +table.</p> +<p>As yet only the brief bulletins whose publication in the +newspapers had aroused the public to a frenzy had been received. +The cabinet, as eager for details as the press, had remained up, +awaiting a fuller official account.</p> +<p>"We have a long communication in preparation," the staff had +telegraphed. "Meanwhile, the following is submitted."</p> +<p>"Good Heavens! It's not from the army! It's from the grave!" +exclaimed the premier as he read the first paragraphs of Partow's +message. "Of all the concealed dynamite ever!" he gasped as he +grasped the full meaning of the document, that piece of news, as +staggering as the victory itself, that had lain in the staff vaults +for years. "Well, we needn't give it out to the press; at least, +not until after mature consideration," he declared when they had +reached the end of Partow's appeal. "Now we'll hear what the staff +has to say for itself after gratifying the wish of a dead man," he +added as a messenger gave him another sheet.</p> +<p>"The staff, in loyalty to its dead leader who made victory +possible, and in loyalty to the principles of defence for which the +army fought, begs to say to the nation—"</p> +<p>It was four o'clock in the morning when this despatch concluded +with "We heartily agree with the foregoing," and the cabinet read +the names of all the general staff and the corps and division +commanders. Coursing crowds in the streets were still shouting +hoarsely and sometimes drunkenly: "On to the Gray capital! Nothing +can stop us now!" The premier tried to imagine what a sea of faces +in the great square would look like in a rage. He was between the +people in a passion for retribution and a headless army that was +supposed to charge across the frontier at dawn.</p> +<p>"The thing is sheer madness!" he cried. "It's insubordination! +I'll have it suppressed! The army must go on to gratify public +demand. I'll show the staff that they are not in the saddle. +They'll obey orders!"</p> +<p>He tried to get Lanstron on the long distance.</p> +<p>"Sorry, but the chief has retired," answered the officer on duty +sleepily. "In fact, all the rest of the staff have, with orders +that they are not to be disturbed before ten."</p> +<p>"Tell them that the premier, the head of the government, their +commander, is speaking!"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir. But the staff were up all last night and most of +to-night, not to mention a pretty busy day. When they had finished +their report to you, sir, they were utterly done up. Yes, the +orders not to disturb them are quite positive, and as a junior I +could not do so except by their orders as superiors. The chief, +before retiring, however, repeated to me, in case any inquiry came +from you, sir, that there was nothing he could add to the staff's +message to the nation and the army. It is to be given to the +soldiers the first thing in the morning, and he will let you know +how they regard it."</p> +<p>"Confound these machine minds that spring their surprises as +fully executed plans!" exclaimed the premier.</p> +<p>"It's true—Par tow and the staff have covered +everything—met every argument. There is nothing more for them +to say," said the foreign minister.</p> +<p>"But what about the indemnity?" demanded the finance minister. +He was thinking of victory in the form of piles of gold in the +treasury.</p> +<p>This question, too, was answered.</p> +<p>"War has never brought prosperity," Partow had written. "Its +purpose is to destroy, and destruction can never be construction. +The conclusion of a war has often assured a period of peace; and +peace gave the impetus of prosperity attributed to war. A man is +strong in what he achieves, not through the gifts he receives or +the goods he steals. Indemnity will not raise another blade of +wheat in our land. To take it from a beaten man will foster in him +the desire to beat his adversary in turn and recover the amount and +more. Then we shall have the apprehension of war always in the air, +and soon another war and more destruction. Remove the danger of a +European cataclysm, and any sum extorted from the Grays becomes +paltry beside the wealth that peace will create. An indemnity makes +the purpose of the courage of the Grays in their assaults and of +the Browns in their resistance that of the burglar and the looter. +There is no money value to a human life when it is your own; and +our soldiers gave their lives. Do not cheapen their service."</p> +<p>"Considering the part that we played at The Hague," observed the +foreign minister, "it would be rather inconsistent for us not +to—"</p> +<p>"There is only one thing to do. Lanstron has got us!" replied +the premier. "We must jump in at the head of the procession and +receive the mud or the bouquets, as it happens."</p> +<p>With Partow's and the staff's appeals went an equally earnest +one from the premier and his cabinet. Naturally, the noisy element +of the cities was the first to find words. It shouted in rising +anger that Lanstron had betrayed the nation. Army officers whom +Partow had retired for leisurely habits said that he and Lanstron +had struck at their own calling. But the average man and woman, in +a daze from the shock of the appeals after a night's celebration, +were reading and wondering and asking their neighbors' opinions. If +not in Partow's then in the staff's message they found the mirror +that set their own ethical professions staring at them.</p> +<p>Before they had made up their minds the correspondents at the +front had set the wires singing to the evening editions; for +Lanstron had directed that they be given the ran of the army's +lines at daybreak. They told of soldiers awakening after the +debauch of yesterday's fighting, normal and rested, glowing with +the security of possession of the frontier and responding to their +leaders' sentiment; of officers of the type favored by Partow who +would bring the industry that commands respect to any calling, +taking Lanstron's views as worthy of their profession; of that +irrepressible poet laureate of the soldiers, Captain Stransky, I.C. +(iron cross), breaking forth in a new song to an old tune, +expressing his brotherhood ideas in a +"We-have-ours-let-them-keep-theirs" chorus that was spreading from +regiment to regiment.</p> +<p>This left the retired officers to grumble in their coiners that +war was no longer a gentleman's vocation, and silenced the protests +of their natural ally in the business of making war, the noisy +element, which promptly adapted itself to a new fashion in the +relation of nations. Again the great square was packed and again a +wave-like roar of cheers greeted the white speck of an eminent +statesman's head. All the ideas that had been fomenting in the +minds of a people for a generation became a living force of action +to break through the precedents born of provincial passion with a +new precedent; for the power of public opinion can be as swift in +its revolutions as decisive victories at arms. The world at large, +after rubbing its forehead and readjusting its eye-glasses and +clearing its throat, exclaimed:</p> +<p>"Why not? Isn't that what we have all been thinking and +desiring? Only nobody knew how or where to begin."</p> +<p>The premier of the Browns found himself talking over the long +distance to the premier of the Grays in as neighborly a fashion as +if they had adjoining estates and were arranging a matter of +community interest.</p> +<p>"You have been so fine in waiving an indemnity," said the +premier of the Grays, "that Turcas suggests we pay for all the +damage done to property on your side by our invasion. I'm sure our +people will rise to the suggestion. Their mood has overwhelmed +every preconceived notion of mine. In place of the old suspicion +that a Brown could do nothing except with a selfish motive is the +desire to be as fair as the Browns. And the practical way the +people look at it makes me think that it will be enduring."</p> +<p>"I think so, for the same reason," responded the premier of the +Browns. "They say it is good business. It means prosperity and +progress for both countries."</p> +<p>"After all, a soldier comes out the hero of the great peace +movement," concluded the premier of the Grays. "A soldier took the +tricks with our own cards. Old Partow was the greatest statesman of +us all."</p> +<p>"No doubt of that!" agreed the premier of the Browns. "It's a +sentiment to which every premier of ours who ever tried to down him +would have readily subscribed!"</p> +<p>The every-day statesman smiles when he sees the people smile and +grows angry when they grow angry. Now and then appears an +inscrutable genius who finds out what is brewing in their brains +and brings it to a head. He is the epoch maker. Such an one was +that little Corsican, who gave a stagnant pool the storm it needed, +until he became overfed and mistook his ambition for a continuation +of his youthful prescience.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Marta had yet to bear the shock of Westerling's death. After +learning the manner of it she went to her room, where she spent a +haunted, sleepless night. The morning found her still tortured by +her visualization of the picture of him, irresolute as the mob +pressed around the Gray headquarters.</p> +<p>"It is as if I had murdered him!" she said. "I let him make love +to me—I let my hand remain in his once—but that was +all, Lanny. I—I couldn't have borne any more. Yet that was +enough—enough!"</p> +<p>"But we know now, Marta," Lanstron pleaded, "that the premier of +the Grays held Westerling to a compact that he should not return +alive if he lost. He could not have won, even though you had not +helped us against him. He would only have lost more lives and +brought still greater indignation on his head. His fate was +inevitable—and he was a soldier."</p> +<p>But his reasoning only racked her with a shudder.</p> +<p>"If he had only died fighting!" Marta replied. "He died like a +rat in a trap and I—I set the trap!"</p> +<p>"No, destiny set it!" put in Mrs. Galland.</p> +<p>Lanstron dropped down beside Marta's chair.</p> +<p>"Yes, destiny set it," he said, imploringly.</p> +<p>"Just as it set your part for you. And, Marta," Mrs. Galland +went on gently, with what Marta had once called the wisdom of +mothers, "Lanny lives and lives for you. Your destiny is life and +to make the most of life, as you always have. Isn't it, Marta?"</p> +<p>"Yes," she breathed after a pause, in conviction, as she pressed +her mother's hands. "Yes, you have a gift of making things simple +and clear."</p> +<p>Then she looked up to Lanstron and the flame in her eyes, whose +leaping, spontaneous passion he already knew, held something of the +eternal, as her arms crept around his neck.</p> +<p>"You are life, Lanny! You are the destiny of to-day and +to-morrow!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>Though it was very late autumn now, such was the warmth of the +sun that, with a wrap, Mrs. Galland was sitting on the veranda. She +was content—too content to go to town. As she had said to +Marta, no doubt it would be a wonderful sight, but she had never +cared for public celebrations since she had lost her husband. She +could get all the joys of peace she wanted looking at the garden +and the landscape; and it did not matter at all now if Marta were +twenty-seven, or even if she were thirty or thirty odd.</p> +<p>For the last week the people of La Tir had been returning to +their homes, and with the early morning those from the country +districts had come swarming in for the great day. Faintly she heard +the cheers of the crowds pouring toward the frontier—cheers +for the Gray premier and cheers for Lanstron and for Turcas as they +gathered for a purpose which looked further ahead than the mere +ratification of the very simple terms of peace that left the white +posts where they were before the war.</p> +<p>"I would rather meet you here than on your range," said Lanstron +to Turcas.</p> +<p>"You certainly find me in a more genial frame of mind than you +would have if you had met me there. And I am very delighted that +things have turned out as they have," replied Turcas. As soldiers +of a common type of efficiency, who understood each other, they +might exchange ideas.</p> +<p>Marta in the family carriage, surrounded by her children, looked +on. Hugo Mallin, who had suggested getting acquainted with the +Browns in a common man[oe]uvre, witnessed his dream come true in +miniature. His sturdy sweetheart had become a heroine of the home +town since the newspapers had published the whole story of her +lover's insubordination, and how he had stood at the white posts +rallying stragglers, which appealed to the sentiment of the moment. +People pointed her out as an example of the loyalty of conviction. +His father and mother, far from hiding their faces in shame, +carried their heads high in parental distinction.</p> +<p>There was nothing unfamiliar to the student of human nature in +campaigns, which many historians overlook, so keen are they to get +their dates and circumstantial details correct, in the way that the +Gray and the Brown veterans fraternized in groups, crossing and +recrossing the frontier line as they labored with each other's +tongues. This frequently comes with peace, when the adversaries +have been of the same metal and standards of civilization. The new +thing was the theme of their talk. They had little to say of the +campaign itself. They drew the curtain on the horrors for purposes +of personal glory and raised it only to point a lesson that should +prevent another war. No, they would never try killing again. That +sort of business was buried as securely as Westerling's ambition. +Partow's name kept recurring; one of the paragraphs of his message, +showing how clearly he had foreseen the effect on sentiment, was +frequently quoted:</p> +<p>"We have had war's test; who wants it repeated? We have kept +peace with force between these two brave, high-spirited peoples; +why not have the peace of wisdom? Former sacrifices of blood have +been for the glory of victory of one country over another. Why not +consider this one a sacrifice in common for the glory of a victory +in common? If the leaders of the great nations that boast their +civilization cannot find a way to a permanent understanding among +themselves, while they stand for the peace of the world, then the +very civilization which produced the resolute, intelligent courage +and the arms and organization that we have seen in being is a +failure. Surely, the brains that directed these great armies ought +to be equal to some practical plan. Meet the conditions of +international distrust, if you will, by establishing a neutral zone +ten miles broad along the frontier free of all defences. Let the +Grays guard five miles of it on the Brown side and the Browns five +miles on the Gray side, as insurance against surprise or the +ambitions of demagogues. What an example for those other nations +beyond Europe, as yet lacking your organization and progress, whom +you must aid and direct! What a return to you in both moral and +commercial profit! Keep armed, in reason; keep strong, but only as +an international police force."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;'> +<p>The keen air had given Mrs. Galland the best appetite she had +had for months. She was beginning to fear a late luncheon, when +Marta appeared at the garden gate with the man whose legions had +followed in the footsteps of other winning armies through the pass. +He was happier than the old baron, when plundering was at its best, +or the Roman commander with Rome cheering him. Mrs. Galland's smile +had the bliss of family paradise regained as she watched them in a +swinging hand-clasp coming up the terrace steps. The picture they +made might have seemed effeminate to the baron. Yet we are not so +sure of that. Marta had always insisted that he was perfectly +human, too, according to his lights. Possibly the Roman commander +swung hands with a Roman girl as soon as he could get away from the +crowd around his triumphal car.</p> +<p>"Mother, it's a shame that you missed it!" Marta called. "Why, +there are so many great things in the air that it makes me feel a +conservative! They're actually discussing disarmament and an +international peace pact for twenty years," she continued, "that +nothing can break. Partow's statue in our capital is to have not +victory, but peace on the fourth face of the plinth. They're even +talking of putting up a statue to him in the Gray capital. Why not? +The Grays have a statue of one of our great poets and we of one of +their great scientists. And, to be as polite as they, we propose to +honor one of their old generals who was almost as generous in +victory as Partow. What a session of the school next Sunday! We're +going to have the children from both La Tir and South La Tir!... +The only trouble is that if Lanny keeps on giving Partow all the +credit for the good work he will succeed in making everybody think +that every time he winked after Partow's death it was according to +Partow's directions for the conduct of the war!"</p> +<p>"Then I shall have the more time for you," replied Lanstron, +who, being a real soldier of his time, did not care for hero +worship. It was entirely contrary to Partow's teachings.</p> +<br> +<br> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13738 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |