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 establishing 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 appetite 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 pass.  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.