The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1915-04-29


her, his growing sense of isolation had
the relief Of companionship. She be-
came a kind of mirror Of his egoism
and ambitions. He liked to have her
thlnk OF him as q great man unruftled
among weaker men. In the quiet ana
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.
We must and we shall win!" he
kept repeating.
Through q 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 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 cen
ter breaking from the redoubt manned
by Fracasse'S men.
Marta, you genius!" Lanstron cried.
you are the real general! You"
mot that, pleased" 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 l look into
his eyes and feign admiration, feign
everything which will draw out his
plans! 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 bull
lets from an automatic!"
Wen meet ram with ram! Well
have some guns. tool" exclaimed Ian
stron. We'll send as heavy a shell
fire at their infantry as they send into
our redoubts."
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 mat
ter? For that, any sacrifice. I'm
only one human being-a weak, luna
tic sort of one, just now!"
Marta, don't suffer so! You are
overweight. YOU"
81 can say all that for you, Lanny,"
she interrupted with the faintest laugh
1--WE said 1t so many times to myself
Perhaps when / call you up again
shall not be so hystericai."
Lanstron was not thinking of war or
wars combination when ne hung up
the receiver. 1t was some moments
before he returned to the staff room.
and then he had mastered his emo
ton. He was the soldier again.
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 20
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 fire.
quently to see If the mist still held
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 helpless
ness that of man In 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 some
thing in his own mind, drove him out
Of doors.
Westerling was rather pleased with
the fact that he could still smile;
pleased with the loyalty Of younger
officers when, day by day. the staff
had grown colder and more me-
chanical In the attitude that COM
pleted his isolation. Walking vigor-
ously 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 womans fig
ure, with cape thrown over the shout
ders and the head bare, doomed out of
the mist.
II couldn't stay in-not tonight"
Marta said as Westerling drew near.
Il had to see. It's only quarter Of
an hour now, isn't it?'
She seemed SO utterly frail and
distraught that Westerling. in an inn
pulse Of protection, laid his hand on
her relaxed shoulders.
Our cause is at stake tonight" he
declared, yours and mine! We must
win, you and I! 1t is our destiny!"
"You and II" repeated Marta. why
you and II"
1t seemed very strange to be think
ing 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.
What do lives mean?" he cried with
sudden desperation. his grip OF her
shoulders tightening. 'Tt Is the law
Of nature for man to fight. Unless he
fights he goes to seed. One trouble