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With darkness the music begins!" he said slowly, with a sort of stern fervor. "The music the music! He calls it music!" ran through Marta's mind mockingly, but she did not open her lips. "According to my plan and your plan!" he added. "My plan my plan!" she thought. Her plan that was to send men into a shambles! "They wait, ready, every detail arranged," he continued proudly.
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. "Miss Galland, you you weren't there during the fighting?" he cried as he ran toward her. "Yes," she said rather faintly. "If I had known that I should have been scared to death!" "But I was safe behind the pillar," she explained.
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. "Good heavens!" exclaimed Bouchard in disgust. "I didn't know such superstition existed in this day." "I didn't, sir, until the groans and the clanking of the chains kept me awake," replied Minna.
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.
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.
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.
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." 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. "Thank you, Miss Galland," he said.
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.
Lanstron advanced to the table, pressed his hands on the edge, and, now master of himself, began an account of Marta's offer.
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. Forty miles away a bell in Lanstron's bedroom and at his desk rang simultaneously.
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