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Updated: May 11, 2025
She was as she had been J'y suis! J'y reste! 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. "Do you like best to keep it all to yourself, Marta?" Mrs. Galland inquired solicitously. "What? Keep what?" asked Marta crossly.
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.
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?" Marta's own opinions! The spirit of her children's prayer! Head bent, hands clasped, she was simply listening.
"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." Marta's glance had followed Hugo's into the distance. It still rested there intently.
"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. "Yes, mother," she said, but in such a fashion that Mrs. Galland was reminded again that Marta had always been peculiar.
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.
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. "An aeroplane! Hurry!" she called. This was a summons that aroused even Mrs. Galland's serenity to haste.
She shuddered as if hurt, but only momentarily. "Psychological, I suppose psychological and irresponsible abnormality!" she murmured, avoiding Hugo's look and bending her own on Westerling persistently. "Long words!" said Hugo. "Insanity is shorter." But Westerling did not seem to hear. His thought was shaped by the superb misery and sensitiveness in Marta's face.
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.
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.
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