“Then is the Father in heaven really the Self of my friend?” “The greatest philosopher could not have expressed it more truly,” I said. “Then indeed do I love the Father in heaven,” breathed the sylph, “and I will say now every day and all day, ‘Thy will be done’ to Him.” “Even if it separates you from your friend?” “How can it separate me from my friend, if the Father is the Self of him?” “I would that all angels were your equal in learning,” I said. But Meriline had turned from me in utter forgetfulness, and was saying over and over, with joy in her uplifted face, “Thy will be done! Thy will be done!” “Truly,” I said to myself, as I passed along the line, “he who worships the Father as the Self of the beloved has already acquired a soul.” _April 29._ LETTER XXXV BEHIND THE DARK VEIL ONE night, when the roar of battle was still, and the rays of the full moon shone down upon trampled mud, and man-filled trench, and tender spring-green growing things and soft-hued flowers, I met face to face a powerful being in a dark mantle who passed along the line of war with slow, majestic steps. Seeing me he paused, and I paused also, struck by the grace of his tall form and the royal air of him. His face was veiled. “Who are you,” he said, “who walk here at this hour as if in meditation?” “I am a man much given to meditation,” I replied, “and this hour seems fit for it.” “And what was the subject of your meditation?” “The war below us.” “And what was the course of your thoughts, which my appearance interrupted?” “My thoughts were of peace,” I said, “and they were full of questions as to how the carnage of this war might be made to cease.” “Your questions were in order,” the majestic being answered. “Perhaps I can be of help to you.” “Will you not unveil?” I suggested, “for I like to see the faces of those with whom I hold converse.” He threw back a fold of the dark covering of his head, revealing a face which I know not how to describe. Power and evil were blent in it, and a strange beauty, both superhuman and subhuman. The face was marked as if by an eternity of pain and struggle; but in the eyes was a light of will which startled me by its force. “Who are _you_?” I asked. “What matter who I am?” he replied. “I am one who can solve the problem of your meditations.” “You do not look like an angel of peace,” I said, “but rather like one who has seen much war of his own making.” “It is for that reason that I am competent to speak of peace. What do the peaceful know of peace? Only the warrior knows the meaning of that word.” “I will listen,” I said, “to whatever you have to say; for I recognize that you know something of the Law.” “I am one of the executors of the Law,” he answered, “and I have a plan for bringing peace to the world.” “Will you state that plan?” “It is for that I came out here to meet you,” he said. “And how did you learn of me?”