Misery crept into her eyes; she seemed to be seeing some horror that would always haunt her. These businesslike men of the council were touched by a fresh understanding of her and of the reason for her success, which had demanded something more than human art--something pure and fine and fearless underneath art. They sought to win one more victory that should kill her memory of what she had done. "Miss Galland," said the vice-chief, "Westerling's fate, whatever it is, would have been the same. He could never have taken our range. He would have only more lives to answer for, and Partow's dream could not have come true." "You think that--you--all of you?" she asked. "All! All!" they said together. "Yes, but for you the losses on both sides would have been greater--hundreds of thousands greater," concluded the vice-chief. "And to-night I think you helped me to see right; you struck a light in my mind when I was about to forget the law of service." "You see, then, you did hasten the end, Marta," said Lanstron. "Yes, I do see, Lanny!" she whispered. She was weak now, with no spur to her energy except her happiness as she leaned on his arm. Then he felt an impulsive pressure as she looked up at him. "The law of service, as you say!" she said, turning to the vice-chief. "Isn't that the finest law of all? Couldn't I help you with the appeal? Perhaps I might put in it a thought to reach the women. They are a part of public opinion" "I was going to suggest it, but you seemed so weary that I hadn't the heart," said Lanstron. "Just the thing--the mothers, wives, and sweethearts!" declared the vice-chief. "I'm not a bit tired now!" Marta assured them brightly. "I'm fresh for the fight again." "Another thing," added Lanstron, "we ought to have the backing of the corps and division commanders." "Precisely," agreed the vice-chief. "We want to make sure of this thing. We'd look silly if the old premier ordered the army on and left us high and dry; and it would mean certain disaster. Shall I get them on the telephone?" "Yes," said Lanstron. It was long after midnight when the collaborative composition of that famous despatch was finished. "Now I'm really tired, Lanny," said Marta as she arose from the table. "I can think only of prayers--joyful little prayers of thanks rising to the stars." She slipped her arm through his. As they moved toward the door the chiefs of divisions, keeping to the etiquette that best expressed their soldierly respect, saluted her. "If this were told, few would believe it; nor would they believe many other things in the inner history of armies which are forever held secret," thought the vice-chief. Outside, the stars were twinkling to acknowledge those little prayers of thanks, and the night was sweet and peaceful, while the army slept. XLVII THE PEACE OF WISDOM