Part 82 (2/2)

”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.”

But his reasoning only racked her with a shudder.

”If he had only died fighting!” Marta replied. ”He died like a rat in a trap and I--I set the trap!”

”No, destiny set it!” put in Mrs. Galland.

Lanstron dropped down beside Marta's chair.

”Yes, destiny set it,” he said, imploringly.

”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?”

”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.”

Then she looked up to Lanstron and the flame in her eyes, whose leaping, spontaneous pa.s.sion he already knew, held something of the eternal, as her arms crept around his neck.

”You are life, Lanny! You are the destiny of to-day and to-morrow!”

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.

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.

”I would rather meet you here than on your range,” said Lanstron to Turcas.

”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.

Marta in the family carriage, surrounded by her children, looked on.

Hugo Mallin, who had suggested getting acquainted with the Browns in a common manoeuvre, witnessed his dream come true in miniature. His st.u.r.dy 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.

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 circ.u.mstantial 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:

”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 establis.h.i.+ng 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.”

The keen air had given Mrs. Galland the best appet.i.te 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 pa.s.s. 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.

”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!”

”Then I shall have the more time for you,” replied Lanstron, who, being a real soldier of his time, did not care for hero wors.h.i.+p. It was entirely contrary to Partow's teachings.

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