The Monticellonian., 1915-03-18

VIII tnat Westefling wore, without du-
hitting that 1t CALLED him, and he laid
1t off only in Marta's presence. With
her, his growing sense of isolation had
the relief of panionship. She be-
came a kind of mirror of his egoism
and ambitions. He liked to have her
think OF him as a great man unrufiied
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.
We must and we shall win!" he
Kept repeating.
Through a rubber disk held TO his
ear in the closet of his bedroom
voice. tremulous with nervous fatigue.
was giving Lanstron news that all his
aircraft and cavalry and spies could
not have gained; news worth more
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"
Not that, pleased" she broke in.
I'm as foul and depraved as dealer
in subtle poisons in the middle ages!
oh. the shame of it, while | look into
his eyes and feign admiration. feign
everything which will draw out his
plansi l 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 esh.-and guns
enough in support he said, to tear any
redoubts to pieces; guns enough to
make their shells as thick as the bull
let's from an automaticl"
We'll meet ram with RANT 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. 1t
has become too tritei" she protested
THE end! II | really were helping
toward that and to gave 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
overwrought. YOU"
Il can say all that for you, Lanny,"
she interrupted with the faintest laugh.
I've said it SO many times to myself.
Perhaps when | call you up again l
shall not be SO hysterical.'
Lanstron was not thinking of war or
wars combination when he 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 to
transmit routine matters over the wire,
while they strained their eyes toward
the range. Officers of the staff moved
about restlessly, glaneing 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 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 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
OlH0tAo Ooy ny dtRy tic oIdn
had grown colder and more me-
chanical in the attitude that COM
pleted his isolation. Walking vigor-
eusly 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 eraved. A woman's fig
ure, with cape thrown over the Shout
ders and the head bare, doomed out of
the mist.
4 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 i'm
pulse of protection, laid his hand on
her relaxed shoulders.
Our cause is at stake tonight" he
declared, yours and minel We must
win, you and I! 1t is our destiny"
You and L" repeated Marta. why
you and I?''
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 he. thought
in the obsession of his egoism.
What do lives mean?" he cried with
a sudden desperation. his grip of her
shoulders tightening. ut 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 1t is the law of ma
ture for the fittest to survive! Other