Captain Zillner; a human document,

CAPTAIN
ZILLNER

Captain Zillner

A HUMAN DOCUMENT

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CAPTAIN ZILLNER

CAPTAIN ZILLNER

A HUMAN DOCUMENT

BY

J
RUDOLF JEREMIAS KREUTZ

TRANSLATED BY

W. J. ALEXANDER WORSTER

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN SCANDINAVIA
UNDER THE TITLE

DEN STORE FRASE

(the great phrase)

HODDER AND STOUGHTON

LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO

Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive

in 2007 witli funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

littp://www.arcliive.org/details/captainzillnerliuOOI<reuiala

CHAPTER I

Through the streets of Vienna rode the shade of the
hero. Prince Eugene. *" Prinz Eugen, der edle Bitter
. . . ' — youth and age were humming the same old song.
Youth and age thronged in the highways of the city,
ardent, enthusiastic, with clenched fi^ts threatening
Belgrade.

Lieutenant Hans Zillner stood watching the crowd,
noting the chaotic beauty in its unity of purpose : the
common eagerness for war. Soberly critical as was his
nature, he could not help feeling a thrill at the subjec-
tive power of these masses that swirled like a flood over
the streets and squares. Everywhere, at any time, the
crowd was always ready for a patriotic demonstration,
with hoarse-throated shoutings of excited zeal. But
to-day the street scene had a tinge of something more
than this — something almost awe-inspiring. Streets and
byeways, and the broader thoroughfares, were filled with
this new spirit, that surged abroad, sweeping all before
it, in that fifth hour of the afternoon on the 1st of August
1914. There was but little sign of haste ; each man was
taking time, as it were, to fall into the new order of
things. At every corner, heavy-lettered placards flung
out the command : General Mobilisation.

The young officer strolled down the Ring. Many
women passed him, and as he looked into their faces
he seemed to read there earnestness, and something of
fear, but fear under restraint. The men's faces, too, he
studied curiously. Most of them, he fancied, wore an
absent look, as if the mind were occupied within, uncer-
tain of its attitude as yet. Only a few walked boldly
and jauntily, with heads in air — young officers these,
for the most part. He stopped on a sudden impulse,

A

2 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

and looked at himself in the glass of a shop window.
Strange, he too looked just a little nervous.

He reached the imposing, over-decorated offices of the
"War Ministry, and was rather surprised to find no con-
centration of the crowd outside. There were about a
hundred people gathered round the Radetzky Monu-
ment, mostly young men of the student class. ' Gott
erhalte,' they sang, with faces upraised towards the
kindly smiling countenance of the warrior's statue ;
they bared their heads, and gave the full force of their
lungs to the song. When the last note of ' Oesterreich
wird ewig stehn ' had died away, a man climbed the
steps of the pedestal, and made a speech, full of great
words and phrases ; the soul of empire, and its awaken-
ing, eternal ignominy, final expiation, and the like. He
was just at the end of his peroration, exalting ' the un-
alterable will to do the deed ' when another crowd came
pouring out from the direction of the Custom House,
with black-and-white and black-red -and -yellow flags
at the head. And suddenly they broke into a new
song, the ' Wacht am Rhein.^

* Lieb Vaterland, magst ruhig sein , . . ' a storm of
strong and confident assurance.

Zillner had remained standing at the edge of the pave-
ment ; the crowd was growing denser now on every side.
It was a heterogeneous, casual gathering, brought to-
gether by the moment. And all looked up with eager
eyes at the windows of the great War Office building,
lit now from without by the setting sun.

* Wir alle wollen Huter sein J ' The young singers
poured out their vows in a chorus of unshaken faith
that filled the square, and hovered above the living wall
now growing thicker every moment, until at last the
wall itself moved, surged forward over the street, and
broke.

The singers were swallowed up in a moment, engulfed
in the dark swarm of the crowd. The smiling warrior
held out one bronze hand as if in benediction over a sea
of heads, all bared. The square was filled with a heav-

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 8

ing, swirling mass, growing greater and denser as new
streams poured in from side streets and comers. The
tram service was suspended altogether, the police were
helpless as buoys in the flow of the tide.

Zillner had been carried away by the rush of the crowd,
and stood now facing one comer of the monument.

* Lieh Vaterland, magst rukig sein,
Fest steht und treu die Wacht, die Wacht am Rhein.'

Thousands were singing now, and ever again rose a
thunder of ' Hoch ' and ' Hurrah ' until the very ground
seemed to tremble.

A little man, with a gold watch-chain stretched across
a prominent waistcoat, and beads of perspiration on his
nose, lifted up his voice, and cried, * Forward, Austria I '
Two ladies waved their parasols enthusiastically, and a
young man shouted ' Nazdar,'* the Czech hurrah, a
Slav note in the German chorus, bearing witness to the
concord of nations.

A man close by turned on the Czech excitedly. * We
don't want any of your " Nazdar " here. This is a
German affair, and no business of yours.'

The young Slav shrank back, but a burly citizen came
to the rescue. ' Leave the boy alone. He 's the right
sort, anyway ; let him say it how he likes.'

' So he is,' joined in the gentleman with the prominent
watch-chain. ' Let there be no discord at this solemn
hour.' And he raised one hand on high, pointing to-
wards the evening sky, all blue and green and gold.

* Ahem ! This manifestation of the common purpose,
the unity of the nation thus spontaneously expressed, is
proof that Austria is prepared for action ; ready to show
its will in the actual deed. Yes, " Wir alle wollen Hitter
sein ! " — ^we are all prepared to guard — to guard *

* Guard what ? ' grumbled out a deep bass redolent of
beer. * There 's no Rhine here that I know of.'

But the eloquent speech was not continued. A burst
of wild cheering suddenly broke out, and was repeated
again and again. At one of the windows in the War

4 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

Office building a figure had appeared, a vague silhouette
against the dazzling gleam of the flashing panes. It was
impossible even to see whether it was an officer or a
civilian. But some one in the crowd had shouted,
' There he is. The War Minister.' And immediately
the whole sea of people answered to the cry, sending a
crashing cheer up to the anonymous shadow before them.

' Just like a crowd,' thought Zillner, with a scornful
smile. ' What a senseless beast it is. Cheering now —
and if things go wrong, they '11 be just as ready to shout
the other way to-morrow, and demand the heads of the
innocent criminals they cheer to-day.' The vein of
scepticism in his nature, which led him constantly to
look for the reverse of things seemingly grand, called up
now in his mind the picture of a mining district in
Mahren, where three years before he had fired on a
howling mob of infuriated strikers. He thought of
Prague, where not so long ago the mob and the cultured
element had combined in acts of ravage and destruc-
tion such as one might have thought to find only among
primitive barbarians.

The crowd : a monster, untamable, altogether unreli-
able. And yet, in spite of all, he felt a warm thrill at
his heart. Those last few vepses of the ' Wacht am
Rhein,* ringing out through the air till the song seemed
to have drawn the masses up into itself, obliterating all
inherent selfishness, and leading even that unreasoning
many-headed beast to vows of patriotic devotion — he,
too, for a moment had felt the glamour of it all ; had
seen all things, as it were, through a veil, and felt with-
out shame the hot tears welling up into his eyes. After
all, there was something magnificent in it all ; in the
thing that lay behind this bitterly solemn hour. Mobili-
sation : no empty word, but a terrible reality. Leave-
taking, and a setting out from home, to face hardships
and misery, mutilation, death. For many, a captivity
from which they would never return. It was the ordered
life of a whcle people suddenly thrown out of gear.

For an hour or more he stood there among these

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 6

thousands of his fellow-men, who understood what this
thing meant, saw all the horror that lay behind it, and
yet cried out full-throated welcome now that it had
come.

* If they mean it — if they can keep it up — ^we must
win,' said Zillner to himself, his eyes gleaming. But he
could not help casting a glance at the portly gentleman
with the perspiring nose, who was speechmaking again,
turning out whole leading articles with catch-words
such as ' Indo-Germanic brotherhood,' the ' heroic ideal,*
the ' irresistible advance of iron wheels ' — a litany of
sounding phrases. ' Pot-bellied braggart. Always these
miserable ineligibles that have most to say. Optimistic
fools. Yet, if only the country could hold on, in spite
of them. . . . But was it possible, after all ? ' There
was doubt in Zillner's mind as he forced his way through
the close-packed throng, and made towards the centre
of the town. The square was still full of people, and more
came crowding in continually, to stand staring patiently
up at the windows, behind which, in nervous haste, the
advance of the Austrian forces was being prepared. He
walked on, bowed beneath a weight of heavy thought,
when suddenly there was the rattle of a sabre at his side,
and a voice hailed him cheerily by name.

He turned, and a big hand grasped his, as though
intent on crushing it. It was Karl Albert ICraft, the
painter, his big frame squeezed into a tight service uni-
form, and a smile in his fine eyes. ' Funny to come
across you at the very start. Piece of luck, I call it.'

' But what are you doing here ? ' asked Zillner in
surprise. * I thought you were in Berlin.'

' I was. And came home like a shot as soon as we
got the news. Wouldn't have missed this for anything.'
He linked his arm in Zillner's, and the two friends walked
up through the twilight towards the Opera House.

* It 's wonderful, you know,' went on Kraft, ' all this
spontaneous feeling. All the grey everyday life trans-
figured— all one wave of patriotic feeling. Look at the
streets here — all these thousands — and then, " Die

6 CAPTAIN ZnXNER

Wacht am Bhein ..." AH answering to one call.
. . . And on the way in — every station crowded with
people, shouting and singing. . . .'

' And at home ? In Bohemia, what do they think
of it there ? '

' There too. The same everywhere. It 's grand. The
old dream has come true at last. Austria the Great.
All the wild forces of war let loose ; no more thinking
about petty little local politics, no more question of
Czech or Slav ; all are united now. War. That 's the
magic word that grips their hearts. It 's all one father-
land now, Austria.'

' Do you really believe that the Czechs and Ruthenians,
the Poles and Italians and the Magyars have turned
Austrians in a moment just because the same thing
threatens us all ? Austria has always been our country
— but will this make it theirs ? I doubt it.'

* Oh, you eternal unbeliever,' laughed the other.
* Look about you and see.'

The electric lamps were lighting up all down the
Ringstrasse. Bodies of troops, in varying numbers,
came marching up, with flags and cheering. There was
a good deal of noisy enthusiasm, boys shouting and
laughing, and plainly over-excited. The people on the
pavements looked on somewhat coolly at the maudlin
demonstration, a caricature of the true feeling, and due
chiefly to a natural reaction against the hard necessity
that forced them to go with the rest, whether they would
or no.

' I don't care much for patriotism that smells of beer,'
said Zillner.

His companion looked out thoughtfully toward the
restlessly flickering lights. ' One or two of them here
and there may be dnmk,' he admitted. ' But what
does it matter — a tiny speck of base metal here and
there, when all the gold is aglow. Think of the wonder
of it all — from Trieste to Prague. This Austria of ours,
always hesitating, doubting up to now, has pulled itself
together at last. The world used to shrug its shoulders

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 7

at us in scorn — ^Austria would never do anything. But
now — ^they are beginning to look up in surprise. And
they will end in admiration.'

* If we win, you mean ? '

* If ! We must win. There is no question of that.
When nations unite as we have done now, under one
empire, they are invincible.'

They turned off into the Karlsplatz, where the mighty
dome of the church stood out vaguely against the starlit
sky. From the gardens of the Konzert Haus came the
sound of music.

* I 'm going out to supper,' said Zillner. * Sort of
farewell party, you know. It 's a pity, though ; we might
have spent the evening together.'

* But — does that mean — surely you 're not giving up
your berth in the War Office ? '

* My dear fellow, you don't think I could stay on here
doing office work now ? You '11 be with your old regi-
ment— so we shall be in the same brigade.'

' Well, that 's good news.' The painter grasped his
friend's hand warmly. ' I 'm awfully glad you 're
coming. It '11 be a grand time, you '11 see.'

* Until the dying begins,' said Zillner, with a laugh.

' Puh ! As long as the business itself goes off all right,
that 's all that really matters. Oh, it 's a wonderful
thing to think it 's come at last.'

The two friends parted at the entrance to the gardens,
and went their separate ways.

The fashionable restaurant was filled to overflowing.
Tables were set under the scanty foUage of the city -bred
trees, that seemed gasping for air. An atmosphere of
leave-taking was everywhere apparent ; a carelessly
sentimental farewell to the easy life of everyday, the
clinking of glasses, wishes for success and a happy re-
turn, and a fine confidence, which, as the wine passed
round, grew to unshakable assurance of victory. The
band played German potpourris, waltzes, and popular
tunes from the Vienna music-halls, with every now and

8 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

again a more serious note, in keeping with the occasion.
Prince Eugene's song, ' O du mein Oesterreich ' and the
Radetzky March broke in continually upon the lighter
music of the customary programme, like a ribbon of
steel about a bouquet of delicate roses. And each time
a storm of clapping and cheering rang through the place,
to be heard far out across the street, and echoed by
the excited crowds outside. The military element pre-
dominated ; uniforms were everywhere. The only men
in civilian dress were a few in the covered verandah,
elegantly got-up elderly gentlemen of the Hofrath type,
as a kind of soberly distinguished binding to the richly
decorated idition de luxe of this new national work.
Many of the men in uniform^ however, had evidently
only recently put off their everyday clothes. They were
spectacled and bearded gentlemen, proud but a little em-
barrassed in their tight tunics, and with yellow leggings
on their peaceable calves — officers of the Landsturm,
conscious of their dignity. Here were a couple of grey-
haired cavalry officers, who had never advanced beyond
the rank of lieutenant ; old warriors of the feudal type,
anxious to take part in the campaign, and ready to shed
their last drop of blood in their country's service, with
a preference for the higher staff appointments if obtain-
able. In a word, a splendid and varied picture of
patriotic manhood, framed in the bravely simulated
gaiety of their womenfolk, while above, the stars in
their thousands twinkled indifferently down upon the
throng.

Zillner soon discovered the party he was seeking.
Lieutenant Baron Krottenburg, with his wife, and some
brother officers, sat at a table not far from the entrance.
Zillner knew them all, but there was one of the men
whom he was not altogether pleased to meet again.
Captain Zapperer, of the General Staff, was one of those
men who make successful careers. And Zillner did not
care to be reminded of the old days at the Cadet School,
where his own progress had been checked by an inherent
lack of diplomatic adaptability, while others, like

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 9

Zapperer, better able to ingratiate themselves in the
proper quarte:^s, had wormed their way into the bottle-
green of the General Staff. And to-day of all days,
when the dream of every soldier was about to be fulfilled,
he could well have dispensed with Captain Zapperer.

The party greeted him heartily as he came up.

' You 're ever so late, you know,' said Baroness Lisl
in her idly graceful way. ' And it 's really a pity, for the
war 's almost over, isn't it, Moritz ? '

Krottenburg, a strikingly handsome man of imper-
turbable self-possession, looked up with a serious air.
' Well, we were just trying to work it out, you know —
see how long it ought to take us. Opinions are divided.
I say, by about the end of October. By that time, we
shall have made a few decent charges, the autumn rains
will be coming on, and messing up all the ground, the
horses will be about done up, and then it '11 be time to
stop. Can't go on without the horses, you know.'

' By Christmas Eve, not a day longer,' put in von
Pelzl, a man of spherical build. 'The Russians will be
done for by then. But here, the General Staff ought to
know all about it. Zapperer, you 're the high Court of
Appeal. What do you say ? Now listen.'

Zapperer, General in spe, had been sitting with his
features composed in an expression of gallant conde-
scension which he was wont to assume at the toast of
* The Ladies ' ; he changed it in a moment, however,
and put on another mask, according to the formula :
' Prepare to attack ' (stern tension of the facial muscles,
deep vertical wrinkles down the brow, a la Napoleon) ;
and in a voice of unchallenged authority, he delivered
his opinion. * There can be no question. We must
take the offensive, and maintain it, regardless of cost.
That, gentlemen, is the only \\ay to victory. Forward
unceasingly, march them down without mercy — and
that simultaneously on both fronts. The Chief holds
the same view.'

* H'm,' put in Zillner. * A bold plan, a very bold
plan. Not even Napoleon ventured to work on those

10 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

lines. He took the offensive against what he considered
to be the most dangerous enemy position. That he
dealt with himself, leaving his marshals to keep the rest
in check.'

The representative of the General Staff laughed in
superior scorn, as one accustomed to refute with per-
fect ease whatever ridiculous objections might be put
forward by ordinary mortals of lower intelligence.
' Napoleon's methods are a thing of the past. Modern
war is too expensive for that sort of thing. We must
use the start we have got to the best advantage. Serbia,
of course, will go to pieces by itself — an impoverished
country, rotten with corruption in all departments, and
seriously weakened by the late war. The whole thing is
perfectly simple. A concentric invasion in three columns,
and then on, like a steam roller, to Kragujevacs, to the
heart of Serbia itself. Belgrade will collapse auto-
matically. By the 18th of August, or say the end of
the month at latest, the country will be at His Majesty's
feet. The Chief, I may say, holds the same view. Then
as to Russia ' — this with a deepening of the wrinkles in
his brow — ' there, I admit, we have more serious diffi-
culties to face. And for that very reason, we must
tackle the Russians at once, before they are able to
operate in full force. It will take them a month to
mobilise ; for the present, ten army corps is the utmost
they can put into the field. We have fourteen, count-
ing the reserve formations, and within seven days of
mobilisation they can be in position in Galicia. Then,
on to Kiev, without delay, occupying the place before
the enemy has had time to concentrate his main force.
The Polish insurgents, of course, and the Independents'
party in Ukraine, will come over to us as we go on.
There are sixty millions of non-Russians longing to throw
off the Muscovite yoke. As regards the question of
time, then, the whole campaign, down to the last decisive
battle, should be practically over by the 15th of October.
Our armies will then ' — the speaker raised his eyebrows,
and spoke in an easier tone — * will then, making allow-

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 11

ance for possible delays, by the end of November, or at
latest the beginning of December, have occupied South
Russia, and be able to dictate the terms of peace from
there.'

Baroness Lisl leaned over to Zillner, and whispered
in his ear. ' Really, I can't stand much more of this,'
she said. ' Conceited nonsense — it makes one simply
ill to hear it. And to think that thousands must give
their lives to let these windbags put their theories to
the test. It 's too horrible.*

But the rest of the company seemed in the main to
agree with the principles laid down by Zapperer in his
instructive lecture. The rate of progress, as there
indicated, was very satisfactory indeed. They would
be back in Vienna for Christmas after all — the very
thing. Lieutenant Graf Selztal, a little man who had
said nothing up to then, but sat silently putting away
glass after glass of Gumpoldskirchner, suddenly woke up
and croaked out fiercely : ' That 's it — go in and rush
them down — the dogs. Rush them down. Hurrah ! '

Captain Pelzl glanced across at Baroness Lisl, who was
staring before her, slightly pale, and deep in thought.
* And you. Baroness, what do you say to the war ? '

* If you care to know,' she began, turning her eyes
upon him with a sudden flash, ' I think . . . ' Sud-
denly she gave way, and burst out passionately, her voice
choking with tears. * Oh, it is madness, a wicked,
wicked madness. The thousands that must die, the
thousands that must be crippled for life — ^and why,
why ? To move some frontier this way or that ? Will
that make any one happier ? What do I care for their
frontiers ? I want my husband. If I lose him, what
is there left? What — is — there — ^left — to — me?' She
broke down, and sobbed aloud.

There was an uncomfortable pause. Captain Zapperer
of the General Staff laughed scornfully. Krottenburg
was helpless and embarrassed. ' Lisl, my dear,' he
said kindly, in his easy drawling voice, ' how can you
talk such — such nasty socialistic stuff ? And just when

12 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

we 're going to begin, and all — ^you unsoldierly little
beggar.'

Pelzl, the heavyweight, gave a little laugh. * Mulier
taceat in hello. Pardon, Baroness, but you know . . . '

' Not at all. You 're quite right. It was very stupid
of me.' Baroness Lisl looked over at her husband with
earnest eyes ; her lips still trembled.

* She 's wildly in love with him, poor thing,' thought
Zillner to himself.

Pelzl rang his glass to call for silence. ' Here 's to
our next merry meeting. All of us here, this day next
year. All of us. Beat the lot of them, and a safe return
to us all.'

The whole party drank, clinking their glasses. But
Lisl whispered to her husband, ' Moritz, I can't. I don't
care if we win, if only you come back — you must come
back to me. . . .'

* Little stupid ... of course I shall.'

Some one suggested champagne as a pick-me-up,
though the party had drunk a good deal of wine already.
Krottenburg was for going round to somewhere else —
* Grabencafe, for instance — it 's more fun there.' The
motion was carried, and the bill was called for.

They were preparing to leave, when, for about the
tenth time that evening, the band struck up ' Gott
erhalte.^ All rose to their feet, the officers at the salute.
^ Heil dem Kaiser, Heil dem Lande, Oesterreich wird
ewig siehnJ A tumult of ' Hochs ' and ' Hurrahs '
crashed out from all sides, with a ringing of glasses at
the tables.

* Infernally powerful thing, that hymn,' said Zillner
to Baroness Lisl. ' Say what you will about the words
—the music is wonderful. I can't help feeling a little
cold shiver every time I hear it.'

' Yes,' agreed the Baroness, still pale, and speaking
half to herself. ' Infernally. . . , Yes . . . '

As they neared the entrance, a tall, thin man in
general's uniform passed in, walking with rapid steps.
The officers stood aside and saluted, Zapperer with a

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 18

rigidity indicative of the profovindest respect. For it
was none other than the Chief himself, Conrad v. Hot-
zendoff, the Minister of War, the hope and mainstay of
all Austria. He was looking much as usual, with the
characteristic nervous twitchings of the muscles on the
left side of his face, and in the shoulders.

* He 's aged a good deal lately,' observed Captain
Pelzl thoughtfully. ' Looks nervous, too.'

* No wonder,' said Zillner. ' A man of that forceful
type waiting for years to strike the one decisive blow,
and then, by some inscrutable providence, compelled to
let one chance after another go by — until it 's almost
too late . . . '

' Glad you take such a hopeful view of things,' said
Zapperer, with a sarcastic grin to Zillner.

' I said " almost," ' answered the other coldly. * No
doubt the exertions of our infallible General Staff will
pull the thing through.'

The others laughed. Baroness Lisl, clinging affection-
ately to her husband's arm, nudged him with a bright
little smile.

But the ornament of the bottle-green corps was not
pleased. ' Very funny, no doubt,' he muttered, with an
unfriendly glance at Zillner, and, without any definite
excuse, he walked away.

The rest of the party, now in the best of spirits, took
their way to the Grabencafe.

Late next morning, Zillner awoke with a bad head,
and an uneasy feeling that the great day had somehow
ended awkwardly. His party had stayed some hours at
the Grabencafe, drinking a good deal of champagne,
with the usual result. The solemnity of the occasion,
which all had felt at first, had gradually given place to a
careless gaiety. The catchy melodies from the Vienna
music-halls had whirled them out of all consciousness
beyond the moment. Serious matters were forgotten,
ceremony was laid aside, all talked at once and without
restraint, and the vein of sentimentality latent in the

U CAPTAIN ZILLNER

Viennese temperament asserted itself. At such times
men will be moved to confide their most intimate secrets
to a perfect stranger, and with tears in their eyes, and
much emotion, embrace and console each other.

There had been several cases of the sort that evening.
And Zillner, calling to mind one episode after another,
as he dressed, felt something like disgust at it all. One
fellow with a foolish sickly face, who might have been
a shop assistant, had clambered on a table, and made a
speech about the ' Path of Heroes,' quoting apparently
from something he had read, in phrases of intolerable
banality and the cheapest sentiment. And that miser-
able little caricature of humanity had been lifted on
men's shoulders and chaired round the room with shouts
of applause. Ugh I Then an old retired captain, a
withered relic with the meek resignation of a long-
forgotten pensioner, had pulled out a copy of the
Emperor's manifesto, and read it aloud : a piping
little voice, wheezing in senile emotion, a figure swaying
this way and that as he read. And then at the words,
* I have given all these things my deepest consideration,'
he had fallen forward, unable to proceed, into the arms
of a stout lady, whom he had never seen before, and hung
weeping on her neck, sobbing out again and again, ' Our
Emperor — our noble Emperor, our noble Emperor' —
until at last, the lady, who had borne her burden at
first with patriotic self-sacrifice, at last became impatient,
and looked round for help, and a rescue party carried off
the captain to the fountain, leaving him there to cool.
Then towards the end, there had been a disturbance of
a different sort — a youth, with flashing eyes and very
dirty cuffs, had broken in upon the general outburst of
martial enthusiasm and wine-heated acclamation, by
shouting out suddenly, ' What are you cheering for ? '
And in the pause of astonishment that followed, he went
on : * Patriotic fools I What is there to cheer about ?
Permission to go out and murder your fellow-men ?
A game licence, valid for human souls. I say this
war is a disgrace to civilisation — a disgrace . . . ' At

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 15

this point he had been seized and thrown out of the place
amid a chorus of angry cries : * A Serbian — out with
him, a Serbian.* Zillner remembered the man distinctly;
a face with the passionate pallor of the fanatic, that he
would know among a thousand.

Baroness Lisl was the only one who had shown any
sign of pity for the boy — evidently an anarchist. It was
like her. Zillner smiled as he buckled on his sword :
yes, that was the one bright spot in the murky nasti-
ness of that early morning riot. One woman with her
splendid love for a man, her charming scorn oi mere logic
and sense. And then Krottenburg, languid as ever,
impeccably correct in all things, taking it calmly as a
pasha. What a pair they made. He remembered how
she had implored the somewhat fuddled Pelzl again and
again not to send her Moritz out on any nasty dangerous
patrol work — ' dear Captain Pelzl, you '11 keep him
somewhere at the back, won't you — for my sake.'
Pelzl, of course, had promised everything. * For your
sake, my dear Baroness — ^why, we 'd keep him at home
if you asked it.' And that false, fat man had been paid
on the spot with a kiss from his subaltern's wife, to the
uproarious delight of the rest. Poor Baroness Lisl. By
now she would be sitting fai a comer crying. And how
many others in the same plight as she, torn by consum-
ing fear, tortured and broken by this thing — War.
Thank Heaven, there was no one to be miserable for his
sake. That, at any rate, he was spared. No one . . .

Suddenly he remembered Clarisse. But that was over
now. When was it he had seen her last ? Yes, at the
races, surrounded by a swarm of infatuated Hussars.
And he had not cared. Clarisse was a physical attrac-
tion only — he would not take that with him to the war.
It was over.

He stepped across to the open window ; the sun was
blazing down on the street below. He drew in his
breath deeply. That Whit Monday had been just such
a bright sunny day. He had been with her then for
the last time — ^had felt the ripe beauty of her thirty

16 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

years, and succumbed to its charm — ^for the last time.
And after, he had steeled himself to tell her that he
would come no more ; that he felt himself degraded by
an intimacy which held nothing more than that, that.

He stared absently at the bare walls of the tall build-
ing opposite, and the close of that scene rose once more
in his mind — her wide eyes, framed in a bluish shadow,
and the terror in them. ' Hans, how could you dare, oh,
how could you. . . .' And then she had sprung up and
flung her arms about him, stammering and trembling.
* Say you didn't mean it, Hans — let me forget it. Oh,
what have I done ? Dearest, my dearest, what have I
ever done ? ' But his passion was gone, and he had
thrust her from him brutally. And she had screamed
that he was killing her, that she could not live and know
she was no more than that for him, and then suddenly a
change. Quietly she had risen, and left the room, and
he stood there alone. He had gained his freedom.

But after some long minutes she had come back,
dressed, pale, and proud as a queen. And for a moment
he had felt as if he must crave forgiveness of this lady
for the words he had said to his mistress. But he could
find no words to bridge the gulf between the two. And
then — his carriage was ready. He kissed her hand and
went. In the doorway he turned — he could see her
now as he had seen her then, seated at the little writing-
table, with her head buried in her hands. A late sun-
beam played in her hair, lighting it with a red-gold
flame. And her shoulders moved convulsively. . . .
He had gained his freedom — ^but he fled from the house
like a criminal, and flung himself into his carriage. That
pitiful movement of the shoulders — it had haunted him
for days and weeks. What a victory to have gained I
He was not a man of prudish morals, and the part he
had played here called up all the irony of his nature
against himself.

After a while he had grown calmer. He had resumed
his quiet way of life, with exercise and study, and felt
the better for it. Clarisse and her beauty had no temp-

CAPTAIN ZILLNER It

tation for him now. He had seen her that day at the
races, pale and handsome as ever, with the same queenly-
mien, but his heart had not beat the faster. It was over
— and he was glad to have done with it.

He lit a cigarette. The memories faded, and the blank
wall opposite, at which he had been staring, stood there
lifeless and dull in the sunlight. It flashed across his
mind that men on the point of death see visions of their
past ; that must be what had brought it all back again.
After all, everything about him was dying now. All the
easy pleasures of everyday life — the greyness of that
life itself — all were cnmibling to nothing in the rush of
the storm that was sweeping over the earth. He him-
self felt now, more intensely than ever before, the
workings of that instinct which, as long as earth shall
last, must be most vital of all in every man worth the
name — the instinct of battle. And now that it was sure,
was there not something behind the flutter of all these
tinsel phrases ? For him at least it seemed so. It was
a grand thing after all, to merge one's individuality in
the flood of one great purpose ; a man's own life, and
the little matters of his own existence, were ridiculously
small beside the whole.

Zi liner glanced rapidly through the morning papers
over his lunch. All had leading articles rejoicing in
glowing words that the hour for action had come.
With the firm step of a free man, and inspired by the
grandeur of mighty things happening around him,
Zillner hurried to the Ministry of War, to arrange for his
transfer to the forces on active service.

Zillner's brother ofiicer, the poet Hans Heinz Sara-
patka, had been waiting for nearly an hour in the lobby
to hand in his draft, and there seemed every prospect
of his having to wait indefinitely. The place seemed
full of generals dropping in on their way to the front.
One distinguished personage after another passed through
the covered door to the sanctum where Major-General
Brenzler held sway as the Minister's right-hand man and

B

18 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

all-powerful confidant. The poet had to wait. Sara*
patka, whose name unfortunately betrayed his not
sufficiently German birth — he wrote as a rule under a
German pseudonym — shook his unsoldierlike mane
impatiently from time to time, and looking angrily at
his pink and carefully polished nails. Still no prospect
of admittance. He sat down on a seat in the lobby, and
took out his manuscript. This time at least he had
been given a task worthy of a poet's mind. It was a
Proclamation * to the People of Russian Poland/ to be
delivered that day, the third of August, and, as the
Chief had put it, with ' Plenty of go in it, you know —
while of course always preserving a certain restraint
and dignity of tone, as proper to a document ema-
nating from a haiserl. und konigl. department.' The
combination presented not a little difficulty to effect
with harmony, but Hans Heinz had called forth all the
resources of his practised technique, and was properly
satisfied with the result.

He invariably found an intoxicating pleasure in
reading his own productions ; now also, he gave himself
up to enthusiastic contemplation of his latest work,
finding beauty in isolated details, and something magni-
ficent in the effect of the whole. He tasted the words
inwardly as a connoisseur, licking his lips, as it were, in
appreciation. A fine piece of work. The proclamation
would be flung out in thousands of copies, from the
bayonets of a victorious army, to be eagerly grasped by
a population longing for deliverance. It was a noble
thought, and not unworthy of a poet. Had he not also
written it with his heart's blood ? After all, none but
the poet could thoroughly inflame the hearts of men.

Sarapatka found a certain satisfaction in this last
thought. This really was the final blow — his work.
The Polish nation would be ultimately conquered by his
words ; the part accorded to Austria by tradition as a
deliverer would be merely relying on brute force ; it
was the poetic element that counted. If he, Hans
Sarapatka, had but been called upon at the proper time

CAPTAIN ZILLNER r 19

to exhort the Serbians, who knows ? Much might then
have been different. But it was too late.

He sighed deeply. With this invaluable work of his —
and to let him sit there waiting — it was an affront, no
less. He looked impatiently at the clock. Twelve.
A lanky general officer had been sitting in there now for
a quarter of an hour, and in the passage outside were
three Excellencies and six newly appointed colonels
marching up and down.' It would be half -past one at
least before he could get in. Puh I

Hans Heinz was therefore not displeased when Zillner
entered ; after all, it was a good thing now and again
to exchange views with a man of some degree of in-
telligence.

' Hail, Prince of Poets,' cried Zillner cheerily. * Well
met.'

' Well met in a solemn hour,' returned Sarapatka.
* I 'm sorry to hear you 're applying for active service.'
He seemed indeed to look on it as matter for reproach.
' There 's a senseless uncertainty of life about the front.
Blind death in ambush everywhere, thrusting out its
clammy grip haphazard, taking the wheat or the tares
without distinction. Bullets flying, humming, striking
— anywhere, whether in the brain of a Goethe, or the
body of a crMin, is left to chance. It is ridiculous.
Whatever made you do it ? '

Zillner stared in blank astonishment at the smooth,
colourless face of this maker of books, with his theatrical
pose. ' What on earth — ^you, my dear fellow, to talk
like that ? You, our Tyrtaeus. The most fiery advo-
cate of war yourself ? After all you 've written about
waking the warrior spirit of old — what was it — in the
sordidly mercantile minds of our modem youth. And
commissioned by the Ministry to write out fiery pro-
clamations . . . well . . . ' -

Hans Heinz smiled. * How excited you are to-day.
Really, there 's nothing to wonder at in that. Surely
a man can write what he feels as his earnest conviction
without being called upon to prove it with his blood ?

20 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

We who supply the mteUigence of the nation are surely
not to be used as targets like any common citizen. We
have our spiritual work to do, our higher place to fill,
while the man in the street ' — he snapped his fingers
airily — ' if he dies, well, it means at the utmost the loss
of a possible contributor towards the maintenance of the
race. And that only if he is a suitable subject for the
purpose.'

' Oh, well, ii that 's your way of looking at it — I can't
think, though, whatever made you take up a commis-
sion.' ZiUner's disgust was evident. He looked the
other straight in the eyes, and asked point blank :
* Where do we come in — as officers ? How are we to
persuade our men of the duty of giving their lives for
their country, if we clear out ourselves as soon as it
comes to the pinch ? '

' Really, you know, this is quite — er — aggressive.'
The poet seemed not in the least abashed. ' I hardly
care to argue in such a tone, but still — mutatis mutandis,
a king has other obligations than a coachman. Take
the General Staff, for instance. Would our leaders
there expose themselves merely for the sake of ex-
ample ? No — they have more important duties. And
so have we. We ' — his face assumed an air of conscious
superiority — ' we, the creative artists of the world, our
place once empty cannot be supplied from among the
common herd. And that is why, as I said, I am sorry
to hear you are going to the front. It would be an easy
matter to get you a post on the staff. Or you might
come over to us in the Press Department ? A man of
your talents — there would be not the slightest difficulty.
If you like, I could speak to the Chief about it to-day.'

' Thanks,' said Zillner coldly, and the corners of his
mouth twitched. * Much obliged to you, I 'm sure.
But I 'm afraid I shouldn't care to do my soldiering in
that way. And now, if you will excuse me . . . '

He saluted curtly, and went out.

Hans Heinz Sarapatka looked after him, shaking his
head. Queer case of violent infatuation for regimental

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 21

work — ^it was something outside his experience. The
psychological aspect of the thing interested him, he
found himself considering it as * copy ' ; it would make
a neat short story. Then he returned to his proclama-
tion ; a most important comma might, he fancied, be
transposed to advantage — to attain the full and har-
monious effect. ...

Zillner passed down the long corridor towards the
entrance. A clerk from one of the ministerial depart-
ments came out from one of the many doors, glanced at
his service uniform with weakly blinking eyes, and hurried
past, busy with his own affairs, walking lopsidedly from
the weight of the bundle of documents under one arm,
and glad that he was not called, at any rate for the
present, to exchange his office stool for the saddle. If
later on . . . well, no doubt he would manage somehow.
Poor ghosts, thought Zillner. Flitting about behind
closed doors, in artificial light, while outside the sun
shone down on sabres and rifle barrels, guns and broidered
colours. Poor ghosts. Trotting about on their little
errands, glad of the measure of security yet left them,
while all about the world, the clear light of heaven was
reflected in the eyes of millions of earnest men. But
three days back he too had sat there, a petty soul,
occupied only with dusty papers, his sabre a clattering
anachronism at his side. And to-day all that seemed
impossibly distant and unreal. Thank Heaven, it was
different now. His sabre was no longer a trumpery
thing, a superfluous article of dress, but a sword . . .
a sword.

That afternoon he sat at heme in his rooms, writing
letters — ^polite notes for the most part, briefly announc-
ing his departure, or business letters, arranging for the
disposal of his effects, and the like. There came a
ring at the bell. He had sent the servant out to make
some final purchases, and opened the door himself.

It was Clarisse.

The two stood facing each other in the semi-darkness

22 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

of the hall. Then Zillner opened the door to the draw-
ing-room, and stammered out an invitation.

* You are going away — to join your regiment ? *

* Yes.'

* When ? '

* This evening.*

Gradually he mastered the embarrassment which had
at first left him speechless. She looked past him across
the room ; a rose in the lapel of her grey travelling cloak
moved up and down, up and down. . . . Then she
spoke again, in the easy tone of polite conversation.

' This would be quite ridiculous, of course, if it were
not for the war. As it is, there is nothing strange. I
hope — as old friends — Well, you understand, of course.*

* It is most kind of you . . . ' he murmured weakly.
The easy self-possession of her manner brought back his
old confusion.

' I don't like the idea of your going to the front.
Kreutzen will take you on his personal staff. It is all
arranged.'

* But I ... *

* You will not need to move in the matter. But
perhaps you do not care about it ? ' Her voice grew
suddenly hard.

' I thank you — ^but I would rather not.' He bent
and kissed her hand, that trembled as he took it.

' Why not ? A word from me, and you will be trans-
ferred at once.'

* I should prefer to do my soldiering with the regiment.'

* Then you are very foolish indeed. You may be
killed . . . '

I * Pardon me, but — that is my own affair.'

The trembling rose on the grey cloak ceased moving

for a moment. ' Yes, you are right. Well, then —

good-bye.*

For the fraction of a second he felt his hand in the

clasp of something cool and vibrating, then it passed.

* Clarisse I '

There was the sound of a door closing outside.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 23

* Fool I ' was his first thought. He flung himself down
on the sofa, staring before him blankly, furious with
himself. Fool that he had been. She had come and
offered to serve him, and he had thrust her away. He
had behaved like a brute into the bargain. He sprang
up and strode about the room. . . . Yes, it was plain,
she loved him. Another would have. . . . No. He
stopped dead, looking up in relief. * The soldier's
farewell ' — ^romantic apotheosis with kisses and tears.
After all, he was glad it had not come to that. He sat
down at the writing-table, and lit a cigarette, inhaling the
smoke in long draughts. That last touch of her hand. . . .

Gradually a warm sense of satisfaction came over him.
His accusing pride was appeased. She loved him — she
would always love him. It rang through all his nerves
as from tiny silver bells. How rich life was ; richer
than he had dreamt.

Stefan, the servant, returning from his errand, was
surprised to find his master striding cheerfully about
the room and singing. * Might think it was a wedding,'
he grumbled to himself, ' instead of all this going to the
wars. Nothing to sing about that I can see. If only
it was all over and done with — ^well, well. . . .'

* Stefan ! ' The voice of command brought Stefan back
from his pacific meditations to the stern reality of
the moment. * Got everything packed ? Sure there 's
nothing you 've forgotten now ? '

' It 's all there all right, sir.'

* Cab then, sharp.'

Ten minutes later the two drove off, followed by the
tearful blessings of the porter's wife, through the busy
streets of Vienna, to the station.

CHAPTER II

The barrack yard was filled with a motley crowd. Here
orderly blocks of men, formed up already into companies,
and waiting for their equipment ; there irregular groups
of those who had just come in. Here was a face still
aglow with a copper-coloured flush from the last tavern ;
there a pale slum-dweller, fresh from his weaver's bench,
and still all confused by the sudden change. Many of
the youngsters took it gaily, with bright anticipations
of adventure. War ? Well, they would do something,
at any rate. And each was sure that he at least would
come back safe and sound. All were furnished with a
last loving tribute from those at home ; bundles of food
tied up in handkerchiefs of red or black or blue. Out-
side the gates, where the sentries marched up and down,
stood the bereaved : peasant women, shapeless of figure,
with gaudy-coloured skirts and head-dress ; factory girls
in threadbare city clothes ; red-cheeked kitchenmaids,
still snivelling a little at the recollection of that last
bitter-sweet kiss. . . . There were old women too, still
standing there and staring — staring at the gate through
which he had disappeared, because the Kaiser had
called him. . . .

But the pitch-black clouds of mourning that brooded
over the flock of sensitive women without the gate
failed to depress the men within. The sense of a com-
mon fate built bridges of acquaintance rapidly, and there
were many also who knew each other from the workshop
or the factory. The regiment was recruited from an
industrial town, and consisted chiefly of mechanics, pale
workers drafted from the cloth factories and machine
shops, where as boys they had been filled with socialistic
doctrine, and had learned to regard the structure of

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 25

modem society and capitalism as an injustice to them-
selves. Such men are not the best material for soldiers
in any State. But a surprising change had taken place
in these bom agitators, who in times of peace bowed
grudgingly to the Moloch by which they were ruled.
Many were frankly delighted at the prospect of war ;
it would, at any rate, be a change from the dull sweating
monotony of their ordinary life, it offered them new
experiences and wonderful possibilities. More remark-
able still, all were agreed that the war was just. The
deputies of their party had assured them that it was a
war against Tsarism, the most powerful enemy of the
* Internationale,' and of the rights of free men. And
each man felt himself now as called upon to take a
direct part in executing the sentence ; as a part of the
strong hand that was to deal its crashing blows against
the bloodstained giant of the north. The press, too, had
done wonders in the way of influencing public opinion ;
even national differences seemed forgotten. The hot-
blooded youths who a month back had railed furiously
against everything German in the State, were now to be
seen chatting amicably with their German comrades
in arms. And there were many of these in the Tiefen-
bacher Regiment, burly, florid-faced peasants from the
German-speaking districts round, their rustic colour
contrasting sharply with the workshop pallor of the rest.
The barrack was filled through all four stories with
restless bustle and noise. It was no small task. In three
days, three thousand naked civilians had to be trans-
formed into soldiers fully equipped to take the field.
The stores poured out a stream of new grey cloth-
ing, knapsacks, footwear, and dull-glinting rifles. The
wealth that had been years accumulating flowed now as
if inexhaustibly from the depots, to be distributed
among the waiting men. Staff -sergeants went about
swearing and perspiring, orderlies rushed hither and
thither on their errands, fatigue parties staggered under
heavy burdens, and the rooms and corridors were hum-
ming like a hive. Stacks and bundles of material.

26 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

underclothes, weapons, ammunition, were everywhere.
And like spiders in their webs, with innumerable threads
running out to every side, and crossing intricately here
and there, sat the company commanders in their offices,
with details of the mobilisation arrangements before
them. Now and again they would check or divert some
part of the machinery when the pressure seemed to
threaten overheating ; at times one less efficient would
manage to bring the whole thing to a temporary stand-
still, when excitement or impatience led him to interfere
in the chaos below.

Among these unfortunates was Captain Remigius
Hallada, of Company Three, trotting about the office,
wringing his hands, and peering through his misty
glasses. * We shall be last again, I know, if things go
on like this. Last again. But what can you expect,
when the non-coms, are never in their proper places ?
. . . Good heavens, man, aren't those identifications
ready yet ? ' He glared furiously at the wretched clerk,
who was scribbling away till he could hardly see. * Zu
jBefehl, Herr Hauptmann — be ready — in a moment.'

' In a moment — and how many more ? Oh yes,
they '11 be ready by the time the war 's over, and we 've
buried the lot of them without. And then we shall
have the same old story : " Company Three as usual."
As usual. And why ? Simply because Company Three
happens to be cursed with a set of lame-fingered scrib-
blers that can't or won't learn their work. Good
heavens . . . ' He dashed out of the office and over
to one of the barrack rooms, where the men were busy
with their kit. ' Now, then, what 's all this ? Get
along, get along. Heavens, what a lot ! Get along, for
heaven's sake. What ? What 's that man doing sit-
ting on his cot ? Thinks it 's a lounge — ^when he ought
to be working his fingers to the bone. Oh, we '11 see
about that. Wait till we 're once at the front, and
we '11 see, we '11 see ... '

[ Hallada was a kindly soul at other times, but at the
moment he presented the distressing spectacle of a man

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 2T

attempting to avert catastrophe by interfering here,
there, and everywhere. Company One had a command-
ing officer of a different type. Captain Franz Pfuster-
meyer was a portly man, with the blessed gift of taking
things coolly, and submitting with imperturbable calm
to what appeared to be his fate. * It 's all the same
when you 're dead,' was the essence of his philosophy.
' So why hurry ? ' He was the senior captain, and the
fattest company commander in the regiment. The
declaration of war did not seem to have affected him in
the least. What must be must, and there was no use,
as he put it, in standing on one's head. He was never
known to hurry, and he rarely raised his voice, but pre-
ferred to do things quietly, and without haste. Now
and again, some less phlegmatic superior officer would
take him to task for slackness, but he merely listened
politely, and quoted Gotz von Berlichingen in his defence.

The model company commander was Lothar Edler
von Grill, of Company Two, called by the men, for some
reason or other, ' Black Dog.' Capable, sharp as a razor,
and a strict disciplinarian, he had his men perfectly in
hand at all times. There was never any hitch in the
work of Company Two ; all went on with the regularity
of clockwork. A model company commander — ^the
Brigadier himself had said so. There were some who
might have preferred a less perfect state of things.
The men knew him as one who would stand no nonsense,
and young subalterns were not always pleased to work
under him. But there was no denying that Company
Two was the smartest in the regiment. Grill set no
store by popularity ; all talk of ties of affection, and
winning the hearts of one's men, he simply laughed at as
nonsense. The average man was a rascal, and to be
treated as such. Dealt with accordmg to that principle,
he would acknowledge his master, and develop such
qualities as rendered him of any use at all — it was the
only way. Grill was unmarried, and, quite alone^in the
world, and his dominant passion was ambition. ' "' "^"^l

Zillner had been appointed to Company Four of the

28 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

first battalion, having received his third star on joining.
' The men are a decent lot, and sound at bottom,' the
Colonel had said on his arrival. * But you '11 have to
keep them well in hand. Not a question of nationality,
you understand — ^we 're all Hapsburgers here — ^but all
this Socialist agitation, and that sort of thing. There 's
one man you might keep an eye on . . . what was his
name . . . ? '

' JaroslavNechleba,' prompted the Adjutant at his side.

' Yes, that 's the man. Nechleba. A nasty customer.
Quarrelsome. Makes a lot of trouble. Keep an eye
on him.'

The company fell in, and Zillner walked down the
ranks noting the faces of the men, old and young. And
he had singled out the fellow at once — a big man with
greyish hair. The conscript looked up with a peculiar
smOe, as if saying to himself : ' Got his eye on me
already — ^all right. I don't care if he has.'

For three days the barrack roared and shook and
swelled. But on the third day it seemed to burst, and
from its belly trailed out a mighty, dull-grey, glistening,
snake-like thing : the Regiment.

* Nazdar ! Hurrah, hurrah I Nazdar ! Hurrah I ' The
cheers in two hostile tongues were blended in the air,
embracing, whirling away together in a wild dance
through the streets. All the blessings and prayers, and
the hopes and curses seemed to ring in the words, as
they rolled out in mighty waves of sound before the
marching men. The home was crying the last farewell
to its sons on their setting out ; the home that stayed
behind, numbed, impoverished and helpless. Through
a cloud of joyous acclamation, the Tiefenbacher Regi-
ment made its way to the station. There were numbers
of civilians in the ranks — if ranks they could be called.
The uniformed men made a narrow grey strip in the
roadway, interwoven and fringed with gay colours and
fluttering shapes. Girls and matrons had edged their

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 29

way at all parts into the body of the column, till there
seemed more women than men, and every warrior
appeared a Mormon. Love tokens were evident also
at the windows above ; handkerchiefs waving like pale
flames, little paper flags of red, and white or black-and-
yellow came fluttering down through the air ; there was
a rain — a waterspout — of flowers. The marching men
stuck the tiny scented things into their coats, or into the
barrels of their rifles, and tramped bravely and proudly
over those that fell beneath their feet.

The officers were hopelessly wedged fast in the crowd,
and could only move with it, nodding their thanks to
every side, waving their hands or lifting their swords to
salute. The subalterns were wreathed and hung with
flowers — the dainty little hands at the windows naturally
aimed rather at slender youth than, for instance, at
portly Captain Pfustermeyer, though he too received
his share, despite all attempts at warding off the trifles.
In the midst of the throng waved the regimental colour,
a faded glory of silk, still bearing its earliest broidered
device: *" Atzeytt fur des Belches Herrlichtkeytt ^ — a
motto dating from the "War of the Succession, and pre-
served through hundreds of battles since.

The avalanche of men rolled on towards the great
square, the band now striking up a catchy march tune,
to deaden the shouting of the crowd. But it was all in
vain — the music was overpowered and torn to rags, and
the monster of sound kept on with its incessant ' Nazdar
— ^Hurrah.' At last, when the column had passed in to
the square itself, the tumult abated. The Bishop was
there already, standing in front of the little altar used on
active service, and surrounded by ministers, and civil
and military dignitaries. The crowd was held back now
by a strong force of police : a word of command was
heard, and the regiment formed into battaUon squares,
A deep silence followed, and the solemn Mass commenced.
The Bishop held out the monstrance, and three thousand
soldiers' hearts felt the presence of (Jod, or, at any rate,
of something great and unspeakable. A solemn ten-

80 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

sion among the listeners, and then, alas, only a fat man
mouthing out colourless phrases ; professional banalities
of duty to the country, and the blessing of God. A
speech, nothing more ; sordidly poor and commonplace in
itself, and delivered with lofty episcopal unction. Zill-
ner listened impatiently ; the presence of God had
vanished, and the gentle revelation of the monstrance
was gone. These priests — why could they not be con-
tent to serve God as His ministers, in silence ? Dignity
of movement, costly robes, these were well enough, and
did not mar the artistic symbolism of the ritual which
allowed each worshipper to find God in his own way. But
always they must speak aloud — and their words made
only vacancy in the heart ; an emptiness wherein God
could not live. . . .

At the first notes of the national anthem, Zillner's
impatience vanished, giving way to a thrilling wonder of
intense emotion. All stood motionless ; the sobbing
of many women rose like one great sigh over the square.

Once more the Bishop raised the holy symbol, the
prelate now playing only a minor part in the showing
forth of the Divine. And the miracle of self-forgetful-
ness wreathed its halo about the thousands there. Then
the Radetzky March crashed out, calling them back
once more to reality.

The regiment marched past, before none other than the
General of Division, His Excellency von Feldkirch. ' Au
revoir in Galicia ; au revoir,^ cried the dapper General . . .
and then the avalanche of the crowd closed in once more,
still closer now, about the men they were soon to lose.
Again the furious cheering, and again a deluge of flowers.
... A couple of streets more, and the railway station
came in sight, surrounded by a treble cordon of police.
There it stood, a mighty, impassive monster, drawing
the grey snake closer, swallowing it up. A sea of human
beings foamed up towards it, broke on the wall formed
by the police guard, and poured back again. Then, with
a dull murmur, it ebbed away, as the last of the Tiefen-
bachers disappeared under the arch.

CHAPTER III

Rumble, rumble . . . good-bye to all — to all — ^to all,
. . . Zillner's thoughts followed mechanically the dull
thump of the wheels against the track, and the train
steamed slowly out of the station. Wearied with the
excitement of the last few hours, obsessed by a kind of
primitive association between the heavy, unwilling drag
of the wheels at starting, and the lingering reluctance of
a farewell clasp, he found himself repeating again and
again, ' Good-bye . . . good-bye . . . good-bye ' . . .
until the train gathered speed. He glanced absently
out of the window ; the city was already veiled beneath
the smoke of its many chimneys, and disappearing a
murky, greyish fog. Then brown and yellow stubble
fields hurrying past dark-green vineyards, and peaceful
white villages here and there. Fertile soil, drowsing
under the blessing of the sun. But wherever human
figures appeared in the shimmering stillness of the land-
scape, all turned suddenly to life and movement. To-
day the peasant had thrown off the idle apathy he
shared with his fields ; his eagerness made a striking
contrast to the full-fed ease of the country round. As
soon as a man sighted the train, he would halt in his
walk, or cease his work, and wave a hat or an arm as it
rushed by, and shout up : ' Safe return — safe return.*
All along the line there were groups of people gathered
by the fencing rails; girls and children, mothers and
old men, shouting and waving their hands, staring
after the train as if to hold it : ' Safe return — safe
return.'

The big waggons where the Tiefenbachers sat, thirty to
each, gave back a fainter echo. The men were tired,
and had begun to settle themselves as comfortably as

SI

82 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

they could. Many were already asleep, breathing
thickly with the fumes of beer. . . .

Every cottage near the track had the black-and-
yellow flag waving from the roof, or thrust out from a
window by the inmates.

* Rather like travelling through a newly discovered
kaiserl. und kbnigl. fairyland,' observed Zillner, with a
smile to his companion opposite.

* Exactly,' agreed Lieutenant Jaroslav Spicka, with
a tinge of anxious deference towards his superior officer.
* If it would only last.'

* I don't see why it shouldn't.'

* I hope it may, of course,' said the Czech, stroking his
black hair, already a little greyed at the temples. ' But
one can't help thinking, after all, that Russia is an
enormous country, with a population . . .'

' We are putting our heart into the work — ^that 's
more important than numbers.'

' But — ^when the numbers are so immeasurably supe-
rior, will that suffice ? '

* You will soon learn, sir,' said Zillner sharply, ' how
to make it suffice.' The other's scepticism annoyed
him. He glanced round the carriage. There was Lieu-
tenant Dr. Freischaff, lecturer in Romance languages
at the University of Vienna, a blond -bearded man, with
kindly blue eyes and gentle studious face. He wore a
new gold ring on his right hand — ^very new and very
bright. At the farther window sat the two young
ensigns, Walter von Prager and Geza Andrei, talking
together in whispers. Prager had been called up from
the studies he had but just commenced — ^he was going in
for the law ; the other had come straight to the regiment
from the Military College at Budapest. He was still
hardly more than a child, with pink and white cheeks,
and but the first shadow of a moustache. The two
young men seemed engaged in an earnest dispute.

* Well, young gentleman, and what 's all the debate
about ? '

The Hungarian looked his company commander

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 88

straight in the eyes. * Why, sir, I was saying that the
Russians have been hereditary enemies of the Magyars
ever since the national disaster at Vilagos . . .'

' National disaster. H'm. Learn that at school ? '

The youngster coloured. * One learns the facts, of
course. . . .'

' And draw your own conclusions. I see.'

Andrei glanced uneasily at his superior, uncertain
whether perhaps his opinions might be unfavourably
received. He pulled himself together, however, and
said resolutely, ' Surely, sir, no Hungarian could look
at it otherwise.'

' It 's all nonsense,' broke in Prager, with an air of
authority, as befitting one acquainted with the law. ' In
the first place, the affair you mention happened sixty
years ago, and can no longer be considered as a valid
cause. Furthermore, the principles of establishment in
the remaining half of the realm are altogether opposed
to such recriminations. Consequently . . .'

' Very well — I admit it. Let 's talk of something
else.' Andrei made a gesture as if to dispose of the
subject, and stole a covert glance at Zillner, who smiled
pleasantly and looked out of the window. The youngster
came to the conclusion that his captain was a decent
sort, and mentally resolved to make a good impression
at the first opportunity.

Zillner had taken a fancy to the little Hungarian, with
his bright frank eyes and the dehcate little vertical
furrow between his bushy brows. A Hungarian. Yes —
and Zillner fell to thinking of the Hungarians in general ;
those troublesome children of the Empire. He knew
their good qualities ; their gallant, ardent manliness,
their chivalrousness and natural dignity. A noble race.
But their chauvinistic fervour, their shortsightedness in
all matters of common pohcy, rendered them difficult
to deal with as a whole. Sternly wise in their internal
politics, they were surprisingly narrow and mercenary
in their attitude to questions which concerned the
Empire ; the idea of any sacrifice for the general good

c

84 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

was hateful to them. Upon one point all were agreed :
peasant and minister, citizen and noble alike maintained
that Hungary should become an independent kingdom,
loosed from all ties that bound it to the Empire, with its
own army, and unlimited freedom to manage its own
affairs. There was no question here of any possible
compromise ; even the leading statesmen, while officially
supporting the existing state of things, were at heart, as
Hungarians, no less radical than the rest. And to com-
plete the inconsistency, they had supported Austria's
prestige, had declared enthusiastically for the war, and
shouted their ' moriamur pro rege nosiro ' to the Kaiser,
with a voice that was heard throughout Europe. Yet
every man of them would a while back have hailed
with delight any serious weakening of the Hapsburg
monarchy, if it had paved the way for the independence
of the red-white-and-green. Austria dissolved into two
halves, with two armies, each weak in itself, and with
but the slightest bond between the two — ^the Hungarians
would have liked nothing better. It was vain to ad-
vance logical arguments against the madness of a suicidal
policy which must inevitably imperil the very existence
of Austria as a Great Power — and Hungary's share in
the same — while there were enemies enough always
ready to take advantage of it. The nation stood as one
man upon the question ; all felt it still as an ineradicable
disgrace that they should have been forced to lay down
their arms in '48, and see their country ' subjugated.'
The wound was not healed yet. Zillner had once served
in a Hungarian regiment, and knew many of his old com-
rades still ; first-rate fellows, and excellent soldiers.
But whenever the talk happened to turn upon these
two things, the ' disaster ' of 1848 and the question of
Hungirian independence, these officers of the kaiserl.
und konigl. army were transformed in a moment to
stubborn Magyar patriots, insensible to all other con-
siderations— ^and it was best to change the subject, if
possible. This apart, however, there were no better or
more devoted soldiers to be found. A strange people I

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 85

Even this little cadet — Zillner cast a glance at the two
young subalterns, who sat each in his corner, picking the
last bones of a chicken they had shared — even this
beardless youngster, fresh from a military kindergarten,
was just the same. Evidently, it was something which
they imbibed with their mother's milk. It was hope-
less to think of eradicating that. Truly a strange
people !

• ••••••

The train was passing through a rich flat country ;
a landscape of broad plains, good to look at, but a trifle
monotonous in its unvarying fertility. Corn-fields in
endless succession, and nothing else. And everywhere
the peasants greeting them with the same old cry, wish-
ing them a safe return. . . .

The sun went down. The train pulled up at one of
the big junctions, where the line turned off to the north.
The Mayor and Council had turned out to meet the
troops, the Veterans' Union was there with its banner,
and women and girls offered refreshments. The men
were given permission to leave the carriages, and hastened
to secure a share of what was going ; ices and lemonade,
sausages and cigarettes.

Suddenly Zillner heard some one on the platform
calling him by name, and a moment later caught sight
of his battalion commander. Major Blagorski. ' I must
ask you, Captain,' said the Major sternly, ' to look to
your men. Keep them better in hand, if you please.'
Zillner hurried the delinquents into their waggons again.
* For the future, I must request that company officers
will look after the men at every halt, day or night, and
take care that none of them are missing.'

' Very well, sir.'

* And you might come back with me now, if you
please. I have a few words to say to the company
commanders.'

Zillner went back to the fkst-class compartment,
and found several of his brother officers there with
notebooks ready ; Pfustermeyer making shift with a

86 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

crumpled scrap of paper and an inch of chewed lead
pencil. Notebooks, apparently, formed no part of his
field equipment.

The Major cleared his throat. ' Well, gentlemen, if
you please, I have sent for you that we might have an
opportunity of talking seriously together — I trust we
may frequently be able to do so later on. Some of us '
— ^this with a glance at Zillner — ' have only recently
taken up their regimental work again, and may have
lost touch with it a little. There are one or two things,
then, which I would beg you to note. First of all, the
most important is the internal administration, so to
speak. It is the backbone of a regiment, and I may say
that the Colonel attaches particular importance to this.'

Then followed a long series of instructions concerning
various details of company work — kit inspection, care
of health, order and relaxation of order on the march,
and so on, with hundreds of petty details, calculated to
make a soldier feel himself as a child in leading strings ;
a whole strait-waistcoat of ' hints ' and ' suggestions '
which left him no room to breathe.

* And, then, gentlemen, one thing — the most import-
ant of all.'

Pfustermeyer groaned. He had used up his scrap of
paper, and was struggling with his second shirt cuff.

' The most important of all is this : the men must
not be allowed to get slack in matters of cleanliness and
order ; not even in the field. They must have time given
them to clean themselves and their kit. You will there-
fore, if you please, instruct platoon commanders to
inspect the men regularly, every day, after getting in.
During the rest, of course, during the rest.'

Zillner glanced up for a moment at the kindly, worn
face of the old soldier, with its hundred tiny wrinkles,
that told of a life spent in unnoticed toil and struggle.
There was a touch of entreaty in the restless eyes, that
seemed to say : * Don't make things harder for me than
you can help. If anything goes wrong, I shall get the
blame, so do what you can to help me through.' There

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 87

was nothing domineering in his face ; only a nervous
anxiety.

It was pitiful to see. The man had been brought up
in a school of dependence fitting him for a subordinate
command ; his whole life had been passed in leading
strings, under constant supervision, meeting with little
consideration from his superiors, until there was not an
atom of independence left in him ; his one thought was
to avoid censure. And there were many like him in the
service. It was this hopeless narrowness and constraint
of regimental work, its lack of all wider scope, which had
led Zillner from the first to seek employment elsewhere.
And now, despite the war, he found it all unchanged.
The same routine — and nothing else could be expected,
for the war, which was to make a clearance of so much
petty detail, had not touched them yet. But once in
the firing line. . . . The thought of this man actually
under fire filled Zillner with a sudden compassion.

' One thing more, gentleman, if you please.' The
Major settled his glasses on his prominent nose, and
fumbled nervously with his notebook. ' Kindly note,
if you please, that after an engagement, inspection will
be made four hours after the conclusion of the action.
I think that is all. Has any one questions to ask ? '

No one spoke. Hallada shook his head. Grill stared
inscrutably before him. Pfustermeyer was contem-
plating his closely written notes with much satisfaction.

' Thank you, gentlemen, then that is all.'

The company commanders rose, clicked their heels,
and left the compartment, Zillner and Pfustermeyer last.

' Very tame — very tame,' said the big man. ' Manage
things differently when I get my step. Every man's
toenails cut square and fingernails round, and branded
with the company mark ; little grey flag stuck in the
seat of his trousers — then the bigwigs can see for them-
selves. Ahem 1 One of Pfustermeyer's men. Fine
fellows. Can't mistake 'em. What d'you think of
that ? Good idea, eh ? So long.'

88 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

The night seemed glaring with hot, fierce eyes at the
train as it i*ushed along — they were passing through the
mining districts of North Mahren, and the furnaces were
in full blast. Now and again flames would shoot up
from the chimney, lighting the sky, and showing a con-
fusion of factories and pipe lines, a writhing ugliness in
the darkness below. At other times, only a thin white
streak of light was visible, through which something
seemed peering wickedly. Zillner glanced round the
compartment ; his companions had fallen into a dose.
The Czech at least was not troubled by dreams of war ;
his face, full in the light from the half-covered lamp,
wore a satisfied, half mischievous smile. The two young
subalterns had curled themselves up like hedgehogs,
each in his corner ; their calm, regular, breathing spoke
of temporary transfer to happier regions, where there
are no troublesome superiors, and no disturbing questions
of nationality. Their faces, smooth and young — ah, so
happily young — ^were untroubled by dreams : they slept
as boys do, with a clean and deep forgetfulness. The
linguist seemed less comfortable : he muttered in his
sleep, and his lips twitched from time to time.

Zillner went back to his place. Poor Freischaff —
thinking no doubt of his young wife. A stern thing, to
have to leave her alone. He thought of Clarisse. Had
she been in his mind these last few days ? No, he had
almost forgotten her in his work. Clarisse I There had
been so much to think of, and to feel, these last few days.
He had said good-bye to everj'^thing to-day ; not to one
woman alone, but to his life as it had been. There was
no woman in whom that life was concentrated. Clearly
he did not love her. At any rate, not as Freischaff, for
instance, loved his wife. Love — something sufficient in
itself, obliterating all else. What, then, was his feeling
for Clarisse ? His dreams that night gave him the
answer. He saw her in all her naked loveliness, her
deep rich eyes burning as they looked into his, her moist
red lips with their warm kisses. . . . Clarisse was in his
dreams that last night of peace. But in the mornmg,

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 69

the dreams were gone, and Zillner found himself wonder-
ing what Freischaff really felt like. Strange — to be
constantly thinking of a woman — hugging her picture
day and night, always the same. It must be a cruel
thing to love like that.

That morning the train drew up at the first large
station in Poland. A living hedge of peasant folk sur-
rounded them, all very dirty, and staring open-mouthed
at the uniformed men. On the platform were Jews in
greasy caftans, smiling humbly, with something like a
gleam of hope in their melancholy eyes. But there
were some whose glance was fierce with a passionate
hate, as if calling down curses on the tyrants who
had hunted their brothers like dogs, and invoking the
blessing of a stern Jehovah for these who had come to
deliver them.

Polish ladies served tea with the inimitable grace
peculiar to the women of that nation, and a charm of
manner which made one overlook such trifles as the lack
of a button here and there on their silk blouses, an
occasional tear in their skirts, or the state of their high-
heeled shoes.

Pfustermeyer was more critical. * Snaky lot,' he
grumbled, watching the women as they tripped smilingly
on their errand. ' Skirts all in rags, and silk stockings
under : every blessed one of them the same. I say
though, that 's a neat little thing ' — he pointed to a
dainty brunette — ' Not half bad, really. Interesting
country. Scandalicia.' And Pfustermeyer proceeded
to scandalise his companions by fantastic stories of the
state of culture among the Polish nobility, dwelling with
particular relish on the nature of their sanitary ar-
rangements, which were, it appeared, promiscuous and
casually extensive rather than hygienic.

The next halt of any duration was at Krakau. The
beautiful old city had put on its war paint. Batteries,
earth -works, and entrenched positions, with the soil
but newly turned, appeared among the fir trees : in

40 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

front of the citadel, men were at work upon a huge
system of barbed wire defences. On the sidings at the
station were trucks with heavy artillery waiting to be
unloaded.

The train went on, through mighty forests and over
sun-scorched plains, landscapes that seemed as if
crushed under a weight of unspeakable distress, with
grey pools of water here and there like melancholy eyes.
There were great tracts of sandy waste, where nothing
grew but patches of stubbly grass, and the Tiefenbachers
were disagreeably surprised to note the indescribable
poverty of the country. Then low undulations with a
scanty growth of birch, and windmills reaching out arms
towards all horizons. And in the midst of the desola-
tion, a village here and there, in a hollow, with tiny
rivulets of brown marshy water. The low, shambling
cottages clustered together about the church as if in fear,
like chickens cowering under the wing of a fat hen.
Now and again, a big country house, or the palace of
some great noble, broke the monotony, but that was all.

In the grey dawn of the third day the regiment
detrained.

CHAPTER IV

' Advance without delay.' The order had been flung
out from somewhere in the rear, driving the masses of
troops in huge columns towards the Russian frontier.
On every road were long snaky lines of men, marching
in clouds of dust . . . and after them, like centipedes,
toiled the clattering supply columns. Ahead, far ahead,
were the light cavalry, already in the enemy's country,
riding hard on the heels of the Cossacks. The Russians
were retreating all along the line. ' Ride them down,'
was the word, snapped out like the crack of a whip over
the hurrying men. This, too, was an order from some-
where in the rear, where a nervous restlessness seemed
constantly urging on the advance. The plan of cam-
paign devised by the genius of the General Staff, as laid
down by Captain Zapperer that evening at the Konzert
Haus, depended first of all on speed in its execution.
Time was everything. If they could crush the enemy
before he had time to brmg up the bulk of his forces
from the south, then the road to Kiev would lie open
— ^for Ukraine; as every one knew, was already on
the verge of revolt. Therefore . . . ' Ride them
down.'

Again and again the whiplash cracked, driving the
armies forward till they groaned under the pace. On and
on, for days and weeks. Those at the rear, installed in
comfortable mansions, sitting at their ease in shady
gardens, they had chosen the better part. Swift cars
were constantly coming and going, orderlies racing about
and transmitting the infection of haste to this staff unit
and that, and thence it passed on, multiplied through
telephone and telegraph, to the troops themselves, eating
its way into every comer of the giant body, till it burned

41

42 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

with fever. And still the whip lashed out : * Advance,
advance without delay.'

The Tiefenbachers were having a hard time. The
heat of those August days was terrible. The sun hung
like a glowing ball in a sky of shimmering white, and
each day's march was long ; thirty -five or forty kilo-
metres day after day. Feldkirch's division was march-
ing as reserve, with the Tiefenbacher Regiment second
in the endless column. In front of them were their
comrades of the same brigade, the ' Collalto ' infantry
from Lower Austria. The men tramped painfully on
through the fine, deep sand, which slithered away at
every step. The weight of their equipment was a
fearful burden in the heat, and for three days there had
not been the slightest breeze to clear a little of the dust
and sweat.

Zillner rode at the rear of his company, according to
custom. The company officers had to be constantly
encouraging, threatening, and driving on their men.
Numbers of them had fallen out already along the road —
reservists called up to complete the strength, mostly
men of poor physique, who dropped like flies by the
wayside. It was the sifting out of the chaff. Even the
strongest plodded wearily along. From the day they
had left the train, the. men had been marching all day,
for eight or nine hours in succession, without a meal
until nine o'clock at night. They were unused to sleep-
ing on the ground, and the small bivouac tents were but
slight protection against the bitterly cold nights that
followed the heat of the day. There was always a touch
of frost to be seen at dawn.

Major Blagorski was furious. Twenty times a day he
rode past, swearing ar?grily at the ranks that could not
keep their dressing, or at some poor devil who had fallen
out, and lay gasping, flushed and exhausted by the road-
side. * No discipline ; I never saw a marching regiment
in such a state. Three days out, and thirty-five men
gone already. The war will be over before we get there

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 48

at this rate. But I 'II make them use their legs, the
dogs. Any man not in his place at evening inspection will
be put on extra guard. We must put a stop to this sort
of thing — ^put a stop to it once and for all.'

Captain Hallada passed his fingers through his hair,
all caked with sweat and dust. ' Put a stop to it — jeS,
yes, it 's all very well to say put a stop to it. But how
is a man to do anything with a set of incapable non-coms.
And the officers themselves are not much better.'

' Platoon commanders this way.' The junior officers
hurried up. ' Gentlemen, there are thirty -five men
missing. Consider the honour of the regiment. I look
to you, gentlemen, to support me ; we must put a stop
to it — once and for all.'

Poor Captain Hallada might have found comfort in
the thought that even Grill's model company had to
admit thirty stragglers, while Pfustermeyer's and Zill-
ner's men showed a like proportion. What was the use
of threatening them with punishment ? What use,
either the orders against drinking from wayside puddles,
or laughing in the ranks ? The men filled their water
bottles in the morning, and had emptied them before
half the day was through ; it was impossible to prevent
them from dashing out to drink greedily of the muddy
liquid ; the officers preferred to look another way. The
Major himself would at such times glance anxiously at
the Colonel, wondering whether he too saw, or really
did not see ?

It was a hard time indeed for the Tiefenbachers, and
they showed it. They dragged themselves forward, in
silence for the most part ; willing to do their best, but
with no energy left over for anything approaching
cheerfulness. Only one or two of the stoutest fellows
still marched with uplifted heads and untroubled eyes,
chatting and singing as if in the best of spirits. There
was Nechleba, the mauvais sujet of Company Four,
whom Zillner had been warned against as likely to give
trouble. He seemed imaffected by hunger or thirst ;
carried an extra rifle most of the time to relieve some

44 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

weaker comrade, and had a store of soldier songs which
he hummed or sang, making the others join in. Strange,
thought Zillner to himself, that a notoriously bad char-
acter could be so useful on the march.

In the evenings, when the air was somewhat cooler,
and the field kitchens came up with an appetising
smell of food, the wearied men brightened up a little. It
came as a sudden change ; and it was almost touching
to see how these poor harassed creatures, after being
driven forward all day like beasts with thi'eats and
curses, regained their bearing and courage as soon as
their bellies were filled. The red -faced peasants laughed
in simple contentment as their heavy jaws fell to work,
and even the narrow-shouldered city contingent, with
less stamina to bear up against fatigue, seemed filled
with new life and energy.

The evenings were wonderful. The little camp fires
twinkled all around, the cricket chirped, and here and
there a horse whinnied in sleep. A whole town of grey
tents grew up, and the moon came out, shedding its
soft, kindly light over the parched earth. At times one
could hear some popular melody, or an old folksong,
from a camp near by. ' Prinz Eugen ' was a favourite
song just then. Some of the Tiefenbachers were sing-
ing too : a few of them had gathered in a little group
under the stars, and were singing the sweetly plaintive
Czech song, ' Kde domow muj ' — their ' Home, sweet
Home.' Wonderful evenings, despite Major Blagorski's
inspection of emergency rations I Heaven help the
poor sinner who could not show his reserve of biscuit
or tinned meat. Discovery was inevitable, and punish-
ment as sure. He was tied hand and foot, and lashed to
a tree, there to stand for two hours, meditating upon
the grossness of his crime. There were always a couple
of such cases at every evening's camp.

On such nights Zillner lay long awake. His thoughts
roamed far out in the gentle silence of the landscape, and
a deep, reverent love grew up in him — a love such as he
had never known before. And this new love spoke to

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 45

him, and said : * See, there they lie, these simple ones :
the common men, the last and the least of all ; souls
that do not count. Driven and harassed, there they
lie, and if one of them dies, it does not matter. There
are always ten to take his place. But these little souls
are ready to give up life for their country, though many
that are counted great would never make that sacrifice.
And they will die — many, many thousands of them will
die. Emperors and kings should bend down in venera-
tion before such as these, for they are the greatest and
most terrible, the most unconquerable — they are the
People. And you must love them, one and all of them.'
Aiid Zillner promised.

Early on the morning of the 18th of August, Feldkirch's
Division crossed the Russian frontier with a thundering
cheer. It was the Emperor's birthday, and the weather
was loyally glorious. There seemed to have been a
thunderstorm somewhere near ; the air was fresh and
cool. The troops, too, were fresher to-day, with some
approach to enthusiasm ; they marched with lifted
heads, and there was a constant buzz of talk in the
ranks. The officers were smiling, and even Major
Blagorski had only once used his favourite epithet,
' You dogs ! '

The Emperor's birthday !

And they were now in the enemy's country — this in
itself was enough to raise the spirits of the men, wearied
as they were by the heat. And all sorts of pleasant
rumours were passed about. North of Krakau, the
Imperial army had occupied a big tract of hostile terri-
tory ; Warsaw was in a state of revolution ... to the
south, the Serbians were in flight, under hot pursuit. . . .

These and like reports flew as a gay whirlwind through
the ranks, and all were longing now for their turn to
come. Even the least warlike of them felt a new
desire to take a part in it all, and an intense curiosity to
see what it would be like. The Russians had certainly
been trying their patience to the utmost. By all

46 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

accounts they were falling back everywhere without
waiting to give battle ; only a few small cavalry patrols
exchanged shots with the scouting parties on ahead.
And gradually these marching thousands began to feel
something like a pleasant anticipation ; they were
positively looking forward to the first engagement.
War and the business of war — it was this that had driven
them on through those toilsome marches, till their legs
and shoulders ached, and they were longing now for the
next act of the play.

Dinner that afternoon was a birthday feast. The
officers sat in the shade of a straggly clunjp of shnibs,
celebrating the occasion as far as circumstances allowed.
The Major had contributed a couple ot bottles of Kontus-
zowka, and Pfustermeyer had unearthed four bottles of
Voslauer. The one topic of conversation, of course,
was the approaching battle.

* Gentlemen, we will not trouble about inspecting the
rations to-day,' said the Major, stroking his bushy
moustache. ' Let us drink to a speedy victory, for the
sake of the Emperor, our good old master.' The wearied
wrinkled face of the old soldier shone with an intense
affection, which almost made it seem beautiful. ' Honour
and success to the First Battalion, gentlemen.'

The glasses rang loyally and boldly to the toast, and
loyal and bold were the hearts of these men as they
thought of their aged ruler, bowed and lonely in his
villa at Ischl. And to complete the general festivity,
that evening brought the first batch of letters ' on
active service.' Zillner had a card from Clarisse, wish-
ing him ' Good luck.' It was nice of her to send it.
But the melancholy Dr. Freischaff was incomparably
happier. He went off with his one little letter, and flung
himself down behind a tree, and there he lay, reading it
over and over again, with a look of joyful relief. Then
he rose, thrust the letter carefully into an inner breast-
pocket, and went back to the others. !

' Aha, you 've come back to the world again ? ' said
Zillner kindly, offering his hand to his silent companion.

' CAPTAIN ZILLNER 47

* Thanks, thanks — yes. She 's a plucky little woman
— indeed she is.' There was a gleam of moisture in the
student's eyes.

* Then you ought to feel all the pluckier for that.'

* Yes, I suppose so. But what makes it more diffi-
cult . . . the fact is, I 'm perfectly certain I shall
never see her again. I can't explain it, but I feel it is
so.' He stared at Zillner as if hoping that he could
explain.

' My dear fellow, that 's all nonsense, you know. One
mustn't give way to that sort of thing.' But he felt a
sudden shiver as he spoke. What if the other were
right ? They were one and all of them face to face with
death. . . . ' Nonsense, my dear doctor, nonsense.'

K^rl Albert Kraft came stumbling through the twi-
light over sand and tufted grass towards the camp. He
carried a rifle on his shoulder, his face was sunburned,
and his chin unshaven, and he looked extremely happy.

' I say,' he cried to Zillner as he came up, ' I 've
just heard a queer piece of news.'

' Out with it then.'

Kraft unfolded the morning edition of a local paper
from Mahren, and read : ' Southern Front. The
General Staff reports as follows : Our troops, after vic-
toriously driving the enemy from all positions, moved
back to occupy their new lines, as " instructed." — ^What
do you say to that ? Sounds rather funny, doesn't it ?
Moved back victoriously to their new lines ? '

' Sounds fishy,' said Pfustermeyer. * Always the
same. These bottle-green conjurers have a way of
twisting things up till you don't know what is what.
And the neater they put it, the more you can be sure
there 's something wrong somewhere.'

* Might be a slip of the pen,' suggested Grill, but his
face was thoughtful.

' Slip of the pen^' Pfustermeyer laughed scornfully.
* No, take my word for it, they 've sat and sweated over
that little bit, half a dozen of them putting their heads

48 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

together to make it look as decent as possible. Fishy,
I say. Fishy at the start. Only hope the fishiness
isn't going to keep on, that 's all.'

* In any case, gentlemen, it cannot be more than a
slight temporary reverse.' The Major looked reproach-
fully at Pfustermeyer. ' You 're too pessimistic you
know, really.'

It was finally agreed that the victorious retirement
should be interpreted as favourably as possible. Never-
theless, it was impossible to deny that this was the 18th
of August, and Serbia had not yet been laid at the feet
of the Emperor, as the General Staff had prophesied
would be the case. And if their plans for future opera-
tions were to be similarly discounted. . . . Well . . .
Zillner did not care to pursue that line of thought, but
resumed his cigarette.

Pfustermeyer changed the subject. He had been
watching Kraft for some time with undisguised astonish-
ment, and now he broke out : ' That 's it, of course. I
thought there was something extraordinaiy about him.
Armed to the teeth in this peaceful little camp — are you
thinking of setting up as a brigand ? '

' Oh, well, you see, by all accounts, there are patrols
of Cossacks about, and I thought if we should come across
them, it 'd be just as well . . .'

' Cossacks ! Haha I That 's good,' shouted Pfuster-
meyer. ' Cossacks ! . . . '

A little later Kraft rose and went back to his ov»^n lines.
Zillner walked with him part of the way.

' And what do you think of it all ? ' asked Zillner.
' The war, I mean ? '

'Think? Think 's not the word. It's a thing to
feel, man. And I 'm feeling it all over. Never was so
excited in my life. It 's grand. And the men — our
fellows are simply wonderful. It 's all we can do to hold
them in.'

* Well, we shan't have to much longer, I expect.
Next time we meet we ought to have seen something
more of it. So long.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 4d

Zillner stood watching his friend, as he strode off, till
he disappeared in the moonlit mist.

• ••••«•

They had not long to wait.

That same night the first shots were heard — from the
outposts. A sotnia of Cossacks had tried a surprise
attack, but were easily driven off. And then next
morning, as the columns hurried forward in the dust and
the heat, they heard, far off to the north, a dull grum-
bling as of distant thunder, which did not cease, but con-
tinued all that day and into the night. And soon all
were aware that a battle was in progress to the north-
ward ; their fellows on the left were in action. But
the march went on through the pitiless heat. The men
were gradually getting into condition, and there were
fewer stragglers now. The worst of them had fallen
out at the first start. But there was new trouble ahead.
A grey spectre lay in wait by streams and ponds, breath-
ing out evilly at those who drank. It followed stealthily
along their route, snatching a victim here and there,
and torturing him. It was the dreaded plague,
dysentery.

Then one night the division was roused on a sudden,
no one knew why, and turned out for a march of thirty
kilometres. The men were simply worn out, and stag-
gered drunkenly. At daybreak, there was a halt for
two hours, then on again all day without a break. But
a little after sundown, when cfficers and men lay in a
leaden sleep on the sand, utterly exhausted by madden-
ing exertion, they were roused again, and marched out
once more into the night. ' Tactical considerations,' it
was understood, 'rendered a change cf pcsitic n desirable.'

Major Blagcrski no longer insisted on kit inspectic ns.
"Wearied cut, he rede on grimly, and grimly the column
trailed forward, night and day.

Pfustermeyer was furious. ' Those clever beggars at
the rear seem to fancy they 're playing at Kriegsspirl
with little tin blocks. They '11 find out their mistake
before long, I fancy.'

o

50 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

Early one morning a big yellow bird, with a red and
white pennant for a tail, flew high above the column. It
kept far up in the blue sky, muttering faintly, and
finally disappeared in the dazzling sunblaze to the east-
ward. Not long after, another came sailing down from
the same quarter ; it had black rings on the underside
of the wings, with a big spot in the centre of each.

There was a whispering in the ranks : ' A Russian
aeroplane. A Russian aeroplane.' All eyes were turned
skywards, but the thing was far out of range. Then
about noon, the sound of guns was heard somewhere
ahead, from the direction in which they were marching.
The Brigadier, a spectacled engineer, who had hitherto
been suffered to blush unseen, came up with his aide -de-
camp, and endeavoured to get on ahead of the regiment.
The division commander, in his car, did likewise. The
regiment halted, and took up a position in readiness
behind a slight rise in the ground.

* Battalion and company commanders, if you please.'
Colonel Breil was standing at the foot of the slope : his
firm, soldierly features well composed, save for a slight
twitch of the lips. ' The troops ahead of us are engaged
with the enemy ; our corps is to attack. The regiment
is in reserve for the present. You had better prepare
the men for what is coming, if you please. The regi-
ment will keep up its reputation. I have no doubt of
that. Thank you, gentlemen.'

Zillner looked at his men. There they lay, stretched
out in the hot sand, and glad of a little rest. They were
tired, he could see ; there was more of resigned dogged-
ness in their faces than of keen expectation. They had
known all along that this must come. They would do
their duty, there was no doubt of that ; no fear of their
bringing disgrace upon the regiment. But for the
moment they would like to rest, to stretch their wearied
limbs at ease ; that was all they cared about just now.

In few words, Zillner told them what was coming.
* We are going into action, men. Show yourselves
plucky as you have up to now, and we shall do.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 51

There was no loud demonstration from the men, but
in two hundred and fifty pairs of eyes he read a deter-
mination to meet the inevitable with courage. Some of
them — not many — showed more than the mere resolve
not to play the coward : they were, he could see, full of
an intense curiosity and desire for battle. He noted the
few who took it thus. Among them was that same
Nechleba, the black sheep of the company, with a wild
gleam now in his eyes. And then the little- cadet,
Andrei ; he was keenness itself. ' Is it true, sir ? To-
day, now, at once ? '

Zillner nodded, smiling at his enthusiasm.

' What a piece of luck. It seems too good to be true.'

And the boy turned away, with the little furrow
deepening between his close-drawn eyebrows, and gazed
like a young eagle out towards the horizon, where the
roar of the guns was growing louder every minute.

Freischaff was sitting on the ground in front of
his detachment, his face a trifle pale ; the Czech was
staring darkly before him ; von Prager was smok-
ing a cigarette with an indolent, careless air of being
thoroughly at home.

The air was shimm.ering in the heat ; down in the
hollow, it hung heavy and motionless, thick with the
murmur of the ever troublesome flies. The heat
seemed floating in visible clouds over the low range of
hills that shut in the landscape to the north.

In the full blaze of the sun the regiment advanced,
moving in companies and battalions forward towards
the hills. Suddenly there was a faint rushing sound in
the air, growing louder and louder, rising to a shrill
whine above their heads, and then a dull report far off.
A whirling column of dust rose up like a flame from the
earth.

It was the first shell.

The men laughed. ' Try again — ^better luck next
time.' But a moment after another shell burst fifty
paces in front of the second company, spattering Grill,
the immaculate, with earth and yellow dust. The

52 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

companies went forward a hundred paces at the
double.

A whirl of flying feet, and they flung themselves down
once more, while the iron missiles sang in the air above.
Now and again one struck the ground heavily, boring its
way furiously into the earth, but doing no damage be-
yond scattering grass and sand. None of them as yet
had reached the goal they sought — ^the warm, living
bodies of men.

All weariness was forgotten now in the excitement of
the moment. There was a play toward, and the spec-
tators felt the thrill of something about to happen;
something which as yet they did not understand. The
men laughed when the shells fell wide, and jeered at the
bad aim of the gunners. ' Try again,' they cried, ' Try
again,' as the dust clouds sprang up like giants in the
empty air, to the right, to the left, in front or behind.
Forward. And now they could hear a sound as of a
riveting machine, but faint as yet. In the distance —
rifle fire. And all at once the sky in front of them was
speckled with tiny white clouds. They faded away next
moment into the blue, but more appeared, and more ;
they hung over the front of the company, and burst
with a slight report. Shrapnel.

The stretcher-bearers were carrying the first batch of
woimded to the rear. And there in the sand lay a
corporal of Zillner's company, struck by the tube of a
shrapnel shell in the head. ' Urgh — urgh — urgh I ' he
gurgled, and pointed helplessly to a glittering fragment
of brass tubing that stuck out, framed in a reddening
circle, from his right temple. A moment later he was
still — ^the first to die.

' God rest his soul,' murmured Zillner to himself.

The Tiefenbachers worked their way breathlessly
forward to the cover of a small gully. The little white
clouds followed them, scattering out, as from a cornu-
copia, the leaden bullets and ragged fragments of
shell that here and there brought death. The enemy's
artillery was feeling its way about the field, but the

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 58

regiment was well under cover now, and there were no
more casualties for the present. From the rear, they
could hear the roar of their own guns, that had come into
action in support, the batteries being drawn up close
behind the infantry position. And the Tiefenbachers
could hear the jubilant song of their own shrapnel flung
out against the enemy. The little white clouds in front
grew fewer. Then, at five in the evening, the regiment
moved forward to the attack. Two battalions extended,
forming a thin grey line ; the third, with the colours,
was held in reserve. There was still no enemy to be
seen. A little wood directly in front obscured the view,
but the whine and scream overhead had risen to a higher
note, that told of the shorter range. There was more
rifle firing now. The bullets sang in a shrill treble, with
here and there the duller hum of those nearly spent.
A line of men lay in position at the edge of the wood, but
they did not seem to be firing.

' Hang it all,' thought Zillner, ' why don't they ad-
vance with the rest ? ' He put his whistle to his lips,
and gave a signal, and was about to follow it up with a
shout to the line to advance, when he caught sight of
the subaltern in command. He was lying huddled up
behind a tree, with the glass held stiffly in his right hand,
staring apparently at something ahead. But some-
thing— ^yes, a little black insect — ^was crawling undis-
turbed over his face. And all those others, lying in
position, as if waiting the word to fire, with their cheeks
pressed against the butts of their rifles, or with faces
hidden in the grass — they were dead men.

Zillner felt a cold grip at his neck, and shivered. But
only for a moment. Then with a wave of the hand to
his own men, he cried out : * Number Four Company —
Forward.' "With a sidelong glance at their silent com-
rades, they dashed out into the open. Volleys rang out,
and the bullets sang over their heads, but fell harmlessly
behind them, where the dead men lay. And machine-
guns were searching the ground on either flank. *Down I '
They could see the enemy now — ^there on the next ridge.

54 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

where the earth had been thrown up to form some sort
of cover. Then — ^what was that ? A wild cheer from
the left, and bugles sounding the charge. The Collaltos
were rushing the position with the bayonet. Zillner
lifted his glass. Like a grey sea, with the flashing foam
of the bayonets in front, the Collaltos dashed up the
slope, flooded it, and swept like a breaking wave over
the ridge. Shouts and flashes of fire in the confusion,
and then a silence. And a moment later a joyful rattle
of musketry as the enemy fled in panic. Tears rose to
the eyes of the young captain as he watched. What
would he not have given to be there. Heroes . . .
heroes. . . .

A shrill whistle sounded, and he started up. ' Tiefen-
bachers forward ! ' The company dashed up furiously at
his heels. Again a couple of volleys still over their heads,
and then the machine-guns lopped off a dozen men from
his left flank. There was no stopping now. The line
of trenches ahead grew broader and clearer, and seemed
to be hurrying up to meet them. With bloodshot eyes,
and faces flushed and dripping with sweat, the Tiefen-
bachers flung themselves madly upon the enemy. But
on reaching the line the gasping men found only corpses,
and a couple of trembling moujiks holding up empty
hands. The enemy was in full flight, scattered in
ragged groups over the ground. A hail of bullets after
them, and then the men flung themselves down in the
empty trenches to get their breath. Their hearts were
thumping violently, their lungs gasping. Victory I

Batches of prisoners were led past under escort, star-
ing idly before them. The Brigadier came trotting up
from the rear, blinking through his spectacles, and
croaking out hoarsely : ' Finely done, Tiefenbachers,
very finely done. We 're winning all along the line.'
f^ Pfustermeyer's brick-red countenance shone with
delight. * Neat piece of work. Doing the thing in
style. But the Collaltos had the best of it. A first-rate
lot.'

The Major, too, ventured mildly to be pleased.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 55

' Gentlemen, I assure you, very gratifying — very grati-
fying indeed. I think I may — yes — remit all punish-
ments outstanding. That is to say, as far as the bat-
talion is concerned. But, for Heaven's sake, don't
interfere with any regimental cases — the battalion only,
you understand.'

But there was a drop of bitterness in the cup of
victory. Colonel Breil had fallen. The adjutant had
just come up with the news. Fallen just as his men were
dashing on to their victorious charge. It was behind
the little wood where the dead marksmen lay ; he had
been hit by a stray bullet in the throat, and had died in
a few seconds.

Who was to succeed him in the command ? The
officers were genuinely grieved at his loss, but there was
a touch of self-interest in their minds. They would
hardly get a better colonel in his place.

The men, dirty, dusty and worn, whispered eagerly
together in the ranks, comparing notes, and exchanging
views. It had been a great day, and there was much to
talk of. Victory ! . . .

CHAPTER V

At two in the morning, when the men were sleeping
the deep sleep of exhaustion, Feldkirch's division was
aroused once more. The Adjutant had just come back
from division headquarters with the General's orders to
follow up the pursuit of the enemy without delay. ' It
is an independent action on the part of the division,'
he whispered. ' No instructions from the Corps Com-
mander, you understand, but a stroke of genius on the
part of the General himself. If successful, it will reflect
great credit on the division, and on all concerned.'
Captain WUrkner had a way of communicating any
particularly interesting piece of intelligence in the
ofiicial phrasing of regimental orders.

' Of course,' grumbled Pfustermeyer. ' We know
what that means. His superlative Excellency 's got
his eye on the next bit of ribbon — Order of Maria
Theresa 's what he wants. Well, let him get it, it 's
all the same to me.'

The men staggered up drunkenly, and stood by their
piled arms. What a blessed thing it would be to get
a full night's rest for once — only once. There was a
shuffle and rattle as they hoisted the knapsacks on to
their tired shoulders, and the grey snaky line marched
off into the night. The stars were twinkling on high ;
the moon hung like a delicate silver sickle low down in
the heavens.

Zillner rode at the rear of his company in a dreamy
content, his eyes resting affectionately on the long lines
of bowed and burdened men as they plodded on, grey
shadowy figures in the darkness. His heart went out
to the poor wearied souls ; he felt as if he must whisper
a word of thanks to each. Poor brave fellows I He felt

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 67

an intensity of gratitude to them one and all. His
company 1 There, flowing on ahead in a grey ribbon of
steel, set with red hearts . . . red flames. . . .

Victory 1 How favoured he had been. A victory at
the outset, and only twelve men down — only two dead.
They were gone never to return, the two who had given
their lives in the grand devotion of that splendid ' For-
ward I ' But the others, who lay now careftilly bandaged
at the collecting station in the rear, those he might see
again. When ? Perhaps they might be in time to
take part in the rejoicing at the final victory ; the Gloria
in excelsis for the last great fight that should bring them
peace. If they could but go on as they had begun, it
would not be long before the Double Eagle could feather
its nest with the plumes of the giant Russian vulture.
He smiled at the thought. Fortune had been kind
indeed. He patted the mane of his chestnut : ' Bravo,
Plutus ! At them again 1 '

Suddenly, he heard a voice at his left hand — it was
the fair young doctor, Freischaff.

' Captain, might I trouble you, I wonder, to do me a
service ? ' The voice came thickly, as from a distance,
through a thick veil, breaking hesitatingly upon his
meditations.

' Certainly, certainly — if I can, that is, of course.'

' It 's just a little matter. If you would not mind
. . . this letter ... in case . . . ' A trembling hand
held out an envelope towards him.

' More presentiments, doctor. Really, you know, you
mustn't give way like this. What is the matter ? '

' Only that I know I shall not live through the day.
That is all.'

Zillner took the letter. * Incurable pessimist. I '11
give it you back this evening.'

The other shook his head sadly. ' I know better,' he
said softly, and walked on with bowed head.

' Just a moment. How can a man of science ever
bring himself to believe in such old wives' tales ? '

freischaff gave a little dismal laugh. * It sounds

58 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

ridiculous I know,' he said. And then almost in a
scream, the words broke from him : ' But I feel it — I
feel it. . . . And the letter is only to say that I shall
think of her — only of her — in what comes after.'

' My dear fellow, you are overstrained. This has been
too much for you. This evening, wait and see — we shall
be laughing at this together.*

A faint strip of red-gold light showed above the
eastern horizon. A cold dawn wind swept over the plain,
and here and there a bird chirped sleepily at the coming
day. Far ahead the first rays of the sun lit up the gilded
cross on the dome of a distant church.

In the golden light of the early morning the Tiefen-
bachers came marching through a little village, where
Ruthenian peasants stood in their doorways, making
gestures of humble greeting as the troops passed. Out-
side the church stood the priest, a fat man, with a heavy
black beard, his face all smiles and friendliness. The
church bells were ringing, sending out dull, heavy waves
of sound upon the morning air.

' That 's funny, "^ muttered Andrei in a half -whisper to
Spicka, who was marching at his side. * Wonder what
they 're ringing for ? Very funny, if you ask me. It 's
not a Sunday, and they 'd hardly be ringing the church
bells here to celebrate a victory of ours. What do you
think it means ? '

' How should I know ? ' answered the Czech sulkily.
* I wish they 'd call a halt. I 'm getting sick of this.'

' H'm. Funeral perhaps.'

Beyond the village the country spread out more or
less flat, rising a little on ahead. Dry grass, sand and
fields of thin stubble, with here and there a little copse —
exactly as the country they had been passing through
for days. As the tail of the company came out into the
open — the first battalion was bringing up the rear, and
Zillner's company was last — a windmill on the horizon,
whose sails had been whirling merrily up to now, stopped

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 59

suddenly. Almost at the same moment there came the
scream of shells, and columns of dust were flung up in
front. One rose from the midst of the third battalion —
and in it were seen arms and legs, and a couple of heads,
whirling up in a ghastly dance. From the eastern side
of the village came the sound of firing. Treachery !

Hurriedly the men were got into open order. Zillner
shouted through the confusion to Andrei : ' Take your
platoon and search the place thoroughly. Show no
quarter to any bearing arms, and if that priest is still
alive, bring him to me.'

' Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann ! ' The boy drew himself
up smartly, revolver in hand and breathless with ex-
citement, the deep furrow between his eyebrows deeper
than ever. ' This way, men — ^follow me.' His young
voice rang out brightly as he hurried off with his men
towards the houses. The firing from that quarter had
already ceased.

Treachery ! This was something new. Were there
no scouting patrols out ? What was the cavalry doing ?
thought Zillner, as the reserve battalion moved forward
in rear of the regiment dashing towards the rise in front.
There was a hail of shrapnel falling, and with much
better aim than the day before. Already the ground
was littered with suffering horrors. Could this be their
beaten foe of yesterday ? He thought of the Adjutant
and his confidential communication : ' Stroke of genius
. . . independent action . . . follow up the pursuit
. . . great credit .. . . ' Yes, of course. There had
been no time to send out scouts in advance ; even had
they been sent, there would not have been time to warn
the troops behind. They were following up the pursuit
of a beaten enemy, to make the victory complete and
crushing. But this was no beaten enemy before them
now, with his artillery dotting the sky all over with
bursting clouds. Anyhow, thought Zillner philosophi-
cally, if the enemy wasn't beaten yet, then they would
beat him now.

The regiment had just crested the rise when orders

60 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

arrived from the Brigadier to advance no farther, but
entrench and hold the position there. The spades were
soon busily at work. The men lay fiat on the ground, and
dug furiously with their short-handled tools, while the
shells screamed overhead, and bullets showered, down
on them from the bursting clouds of the shrapnel.
First shallow pits, then deeper hollows in the earth.
The soil was loose, and easy to work in, and soon the
firing line was well under cover. It was time ; for the
enemy was sending volley after volley over their heads —
too high now, and doing no damage. They could see
the enemy now, some five hundred paces distant, a line
of trenches just distinguishable through the glass. But
the guns were flinging their raucous iron missiles from
some invisible position far beyond. Still the columns of
dust sprang up, often quite close to the trenches. And
then a shriek of pain, a cry of invocation . . . and when
the grey smoke cleared away, the stretcher-bearers could
be seen, carrying back some shivering bundle soaked in
blood. It was not a pleasant sight to watch. Where was
our own artillery ? The same thought was in the minds
of all. At last — after two hours of helplessness under
the murderous fu*e, the welcome roar of the guns was
heard from the rear. The poor wretches huddled up
under cover began to breathe more freely. It was all
right now. The first few shots struck the windmills
ahead, scattering them in a whirl of burning fragments
— ^no more of their cursed signalling from there I

Zillner's company lay in reserve behind a patch of
gorse on a steep slope, giving very good cover, which they
had further improved by spade work. The men sat in
hollows dug out in the slope, and were thus more or less
protected against the oblique fire from above. Zillner
looked round. What was Andrei doing all this time ?
Then he saw that the village where the church bells had
rung so solemnly was now in flames. Ears and sheaves
of fire, pale in the sunlight, were thrust out from the
houses, and a wave of grey silky smoke rolled across the
|*oofs towards the church. Then another grey wave

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 61

below, coming nearer in an irregular line, pausing a
moment and coming on again, and then dashing across
to the foot of the slope — it was Andrei with his men.

The boy threw himself down by the side of the
Captain.

' Herr Hawptmann ! Beg to report — carried out
instructions.'

' Gk)od. And perhaps a little more ? '

*H'm. Scoundrels were armed with Russian rifles.
Priest had a whole arsenal of them.'

' And where is he now ? '

* Dead. Tried to shoot — ^beast. And as there wasn't
time for a formal execution among the rest, I just set
the houses on fire and settled them that way.'

' Excellent I Bravo ! ' said Zillner, patting his young
subordinate on the back. The boy was a born soldier.
* G^t down under cover now ; there 's no sense in expos-
ing yourself here.' He would have been more than
sorry to lose this bright little cadet ; the very thought
gave him a twinge of pain. But surely there must be
some guardian angel for men like him.

' Oh, nothing '11 happen to me, sir. Mother prays for
me, you know.'

His mother prayed for him. The boy might well be
calm and confident. Zillner's thoughts turned to a
little rose-bordered grave in the cemetery at Graz ; if
he could only kneel there once more and kiss the stone.
. . . Happy boy, with a mother to pray for him. . . ,

The shriek and whine of the shells, and the crackle of
musketry, had grown more violent. An orderly, a
long-legged corporal of Zillner's regiment, came rushing
up. ' Battalion order, sir. The enemy is bringing up
reserves, preparing to attack. The position here is to
be held at all costs.'

Zillner's head was in a whirl. The enemy bringing up
reserves and preparing to attack . . . ? But they were
in pursuit of a beaten enemy ; it was their place to
attack. What could it all mean ? He rose to his feet,
and stared through his glass, while invisible missiles were

62 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

buzzing all around him. There was no mistake — there
they were, coming up from the right, three lines — four —
hurrying up at close intervals. And from the ridge
beyond, on the skyline, were still more of them moving
forward.

The Austrian machine-guns were furiously at work,
and from the right, where the Collaltos were posted,
came a brisk rifle fire. On the left, where the line curved
round gradually towards the west, another regiment, the
Buttlers, had dug themselves in. The 105th and the
Landwehr were still in reserve.

The Russians would meet with a hot reception anyway.
But how came a beaten enemy to attack in that manner
at all ? Zillner could not get rid of the thought that
troubled him. Hssss ! — and his cap shifted over to one
side, as if some hand had tried to snatch it off. The hint
was unmistakable ; he threw himself down under cover.
The bullet had torn through just under the badge, be-
tween it and the peak.

The men lay in silence, each struggling by himself
with the fear of death. And some crushed their terror
between clenched teeth, or throttled it in a convulsive
grip of their fists. Others there were who prayed, and
their trouble was taken from them. One or two drove
the spectre back by trusting to their luck — these were
they who aspired to win renown. But there were many
who gave way shuddering, and the terror caught at
their hearts, a stifling thing . . . they huddled them-
selves up closer and closer under cover, and already death
was in their eyes,

' Some one coming this way, sir. Mounted orderly,
it looks like.' A keen-eyed corporal had sighted a man
galloping up from the burning village, and making
straight for where they were. ' He '11 never get through.
It 's madness to try it.'

The horseman kept on his way, dropping now to an
easy canter, to all appearances as undisturbed as on
manoeuvres. The horse, a splendid Irish bay, pulled up
close to where Zillner lay, and Lieutenant-Colonel von

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 68

Rutzinger, Chief of Staff of Feldkirch's Division, sprang
from the saddle.

' For Heaven's sake, sir, get under cover.' Zilbier
pointed with an entreating gesture to the ground.
' We 're in the thick of the firing here.'

' Thanks, it doesn't matter now.' The Chief of Staff
dropped the reins on the neck of his mount, and the
animal stood with heaving flanks, sniffing at a tuft of
grass. The Colonel stepped close up to Zillner, and
whispered in his ear :

' Do me the favour to shoot me at once, if you
please.'

' Sir ! ' . . . Zillner, still prone, swung round, raising
himself slightly from the ground with one hand, and
stared into the other's face.

It was the face of a dead man, save for the eyes, with
their dark, commanding glance, and the twitch of a
tiny furrow on either side of the mouth.

' Pardon, sir, but . . . but . . . ? '

' You must know why I ask. It 's an unusual thing,
perhaps, but. . .' He hesitated a little, and stood sway-
ing a little from the hips, a tall elegant figure. ' But I
ask it as a favour. And, as a good comrade, you can-
not refuse. Surely, when I beg you. . . .' His voice
dropped to a tremulous whisper of entreaty.

' For Heaven's sake, sir, get down under cover,' re-
peated Zillner, utterly at a loss. * You will be shot if
you don't.'

The sand all round them was lashed by the bullets
from the machine-guns. ' It 's no good. I 've tried.
All the way out here — not a scratch. Come, Lieutenant,
as a friend ... it is the only way.'

The madman drew himself up to his full height, his
face set in a smiling mask. ' It 's no good, you see.
They won't touch me. And so I ask you, as a brother
officer — as a last request . . .'

Zillner felt as if serpents were twining cold about
his throat. ' The men, sir,' he whispered. * It is
impossible. . . .'

64 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

The men were akeady casting curious glances at the
pair.

* Yes, yes, of course. I forgot. No, it 's no business
of theirs. Though it hardly matters, as things stand.
These fine old regiments — ^glorious traditions . . . and
all lost — lost. . . .' He paused for a moment, and went
on in a changed voice, as if indicating a report : ' The
enemy is pouring masses of troops into Galicia by way of
Kiev. We knew nothing of these dispositions. Lem-
berg has already fallen. I gave the order to push on,
wishing to crush the enemy after his defeat of yesterday.
But in the meantime we are outflanked on the south,
and two army corps are pushing up to attack the posi-
tion here — two army corps, in addition to the force
already engaged. I knew nothing of all this, and his
Excellency . . . '

' His Excellency ? ' Zillner stared blankly at the
other.

* Dead . He understood that the position was hopeless,
and shot himself. That was just before I came away.'

* And the position is hopeless ? ' Sand and grass and
cowering men danced before Zillner's eyes, the whole
scene rising and falling as to the beating of his pulse.
' There is no chance of . . . ? '

* None. And so I ask you, as a last favour ... let
me die by a comrade's hand.'

Zillner looked at the man, who stood there pale and
earnestly insistent with his last mad prayer. And a
feeling of harsh pitiless anger grew up in him as he
thought of what it meant to himself. ' It is not for me
to judge,' he said coldly. ' If you are looking for death —
there is the firing line.'

* You are right — you are right.' The Colonel was
shaking with hollow laughter. Close beside them lay
an orderly shot through the head. ' He doesn't want it
now,' he murmured, and bending down, he took the
dead man's rifle and a handful of cartridges. * Thanks,
comrade.' And next moment he was galloping off to-
wards the roar of the firing line, his elegant breeches

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 65

fluttering in the wind of his pace. A crash, and horse
and rider came to earth ; the bay had been shot
through the shoulder-blade, and lay with its muzzle
full of grass.

• ••••••

Zillner's brain was racked with a discordant chaos of
untuned strings, with a deep insistent bass repeating
* Scoundrels ! Scoundrels ! ' Their mad ambition, their
brutal carelessness, was to be paid for now with the
lives of thousands ; thousands of lives sacrificed uselessly.
And then they came to him, begging for death. What
did he care how they died ? He strove to collect him-
self. ' The position was hopeless.' But the man had
been desperate when he spoke ; his brain was gone.
There must be some way out. Here were the men, good
soldiers, well under cover in a good position. The ground
sloped down in a natural glacis towards the enemy, with-
out a ridge or fold beyond ; the attack would melt away
in crossing the open. Here was his regiment ; its cour-
age was proved. The brave fellows in their sand en-
trenchments would serve as well as a breastwork of steel.
No, no, no — they would not give way, they would not
falter. They would make up In pluck and endurance
what others had forfeited by their idle selfishness. The
firmg had settled to a regular rhythmic beat. Zillner
crept up on to the ridge, watching the ground in front
through his glass. There lay the men in a long line,
firing steadily ; on the left were the Buttlers curving
round towards the west. There was nothing to fear.
And the Russians had not succeeded in carrying their
attack very far as yet. For hours they had been lying
there in close order, eight hundred paces away ; through
the glass one could see them working away with the
spades to throw up further protection against the
murderous fire. On the right were the Collaltos, who
had done such splendid work the day before. The
position was strong enough.

But what was that ? . . . Something was going on
out there ; an uneasy movement among th6 men in the

£

66 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

firing line. Reserves hurrying up and getting into
position on the extreme right. And now masses of the
enemy rushing up, and spreading out on the threatened
flank, where the firing was growing more furious every
moment. A desperate spurt from the machine-guns
. . . and then the bullets began to fall among Zillner's
men — from the flank.

' Herr Hauptmann — ^we are under fire from the right
flank,' stammered Lieutenant Spicka, his eyes glancing
nervously around.

' And what if we are, sir ! ' returned Zillner sternly,
looking the other straight in the face till he turned
away.

An orderly came hurrying up, bareheaded, and with
the blood flowing in broad streams down nose and
cheeks. ' Battalion orders,' he gasped out, and thrust
forward a strip of paper with trembling hand. The
writing was pedantically neat ; the order ran : ' In
accordance with instructions received. The right flank
will retire. The first battalion will hold the enemy in
check until the remainder have reached the next position.
The whole battalion will move up into the firing line at
once. — Blagorski, Major.'

Zillner turned and looked out towards the rear. The
next line of defence was on the other side of the village.
Between the two lines lay a small hollow in the ground,
and a series of low ridges.

Slowly, very slowly, the men crept out from the shelter
of the pits. ' Smartly now, men ! ' Zillner had drawn
his revolver. Those in front were already coming out
from their cover. The first line retired, in good order to
begin with, the officers leading. Then, after many had
fallen shot from behind, and others were seen rolling
down like hares across the ground, to lie gasping — then
the rest gave way. Death was at their heels, reaching
out at them with a thousand hands. In a moment they
were in full flight, rushing across in little groups, and
ducking as they went.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 67

* After me ! After me I ' cried the officers. But finding
the men did not heed, they ran at full speed themselves,
on the heels of their men. Blagorski's battalion, cover-
ing the retreat, kept up a desperate fire against the close
masses of the pursuing Russians. They began to waver.
But on the right, where the Collaltos reserves were striv-
ing to keep their ground against a whole brigade, they
were in danger of being outflanked. The enemy was
trying to grasp the whole position between a pair of
mighty jaws, and if they could be brought to meet, all
was over. Already small detachments were advancing
on the line of the retreat. They were under fire now from
the right rear . . . and now . . . Zillner cast a glance
once more towards the weakest point — now the Collaltos
were retiring at the double. The men poured down like
a grey avalanche, racing without any semblance of order,
towards the nearest dip in the ground.

' Cease fire ! ' Zillner hissed out the words between his
teeth, and gave the order to retire. The men crept out
reluctantly from their cover. Pistol in hand, he hurried
over to a group of Spicka's men, who were standing
hesitatingly on the slope, Spicka himself among them.

* Do you want to be taken prisoner ? Back, or I shoot
you down myself.' The Czech pulled himself together at
this, and staggered out at the head of his men into the
open, where clouds of dust were rising from the ground,
tiny flickers as of smoke, that came and vanished, wher-
ever the swift leaden drops fell to earth. They hurried
on. Only a few paces out from cover, and Zillner saw
a figure at his side suddenly check. It was the pale-
faced Doctor Freischaff. He flung up his arms, made
one spring, and fell forward stiff as a log. Shot through
the heart.

Pfustermeyer was there, on the left, his burly form
moving with big, powerful strides, and beside him was
the Major, pointing with his riding whip towards the
burning village. Hallada hrd remained behind in the
trenches, with an insignificant little hole in his ever
worried head. He had died without even finding time

68 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

for a last protest. Grill, the model captain, held a
smoking Browning in his hand ; he had shot down a
couple of his own men, who had refused to face the rush
across the open. The rest of the company followed at
his heels, like cowed beasts after their master.

Once down in the hollow, however, where the well-
timed shrapnel and heavier shells fell thick jimong the
retreating men, even the impeccable Grill broke into a
run. They were all running now, stumbling breathlessly
on towards the village. There was no longer any sem-
blance of order, only little irregular groups pressing on
in a race for life, each man with lungs and limbs urged
to the utmost. Even then it was all a matter of chance,
for the little white clouds broke as often as not over the
foremost, and the shells sent up their dreadful fountain-
spurts of dust with an impartial mixture of old limbs
and young, the active and the exhausted, mingled in one
purplish carnage. On, on ... in retreat I . . .

Over the torn and bloodstained ground of the Podo-
lian steppe rose a wail from the depths of human
hearts — ^Mother 1 That sacred name, the earliest word
uttered in conscious speech — that word it was that rose
now from the earth in shriek and groan, the last word
uttered by parched lips to the unpitying sky. Mother !
. . . The last heartfelt prayer, that could have no ful-
filment on earth, or perhaps the wonderful vision merci-
fully granted to the dying ere they passed into nothing-
ness. . . . The touch of tender, cooling hands on burn-
ing forehead and on thirsting lips : Mother ! . . .

* Company Four this way.* From a little birch copse,
where the shadows were already lengthening towards
evening, Zillner called again and again, assembling his
men. But only some thirty of them straggled up, pale,
half -dead, and grey with dust and fear and exhaustion.
The Czech was there, with twelve of his men, von Prager
had but five of his ; the rest belonged, some to Andrei's
command, and others to that of Freischaff, who had
fallen. Andrei himself was missing.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 69

* Where is Lieutenant Andrei ? Has any one seen
him fall ? '

^- No one knew what had become of him. Some one
had last seen him on the extreme left of the line — pos-
sibly he was now with the rest of the first company.
Zillner passed his hand over his aching eyes. If only
the boy might be spared 1 He had grown fond of him.

Shrapnel began to burst above the copse, as if it
had scented out its prey. ' Retire I ' And again they
hurried back, keeping some sort of order until they
reached the high road leading to the Austrian frontier.
The men were worn out now with fatigue, and followed
lethargically at their leader's heels. Along the road,
the debris of the splendid regiments was hurrying west-
ward— remains of the Collaltos, with those that were
left of the Buttlers and the Landwehr, all mingled to-
gether. The disorderly flight had ceased now, and soon
the officers had pieced the scattered units together, and
were leading their men in orderly ranks. There were
eight companies of the Tiefenbachers, and these had
formed, under the hoarse command of the Major, into
a column — ^the old man himself hobbling along on foot ;
his spare horse, his orderly, and the bugler had dis-
appeared. The Adjutant had been left wounded on the
field, and might by now be under the care of the Russian
ambulance men. The whole of the third battalion was
missing. So, as the stars came out, this wreck of a
regiment dragged itself along. The men spoke no word.
They passed a little hamlet through which they had
marched singing merrily but three days back ; the
market square was packed with supply and transport
waggons wedged inextricably into one wheeled chaos.

* What are you doing here ? ' asked the Major angrily
of a captain apparently in charge. * You should have
been on ahead long since; Can't you see we are
retiring ? '

* We have been waiting^for'^orders^since one o'clock
this afternoon. We had no instructions to move
anywhere.*

70 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

* You have had no instructions from division head-
quarters ? '

* No, sir.'

* Well, then, you can act on mine. Back to Jaroslav
at once.'

' Very good, sir.'

But while the tangled confusion of vehicles was slowly
getting under way, something new and terrible happened.
Sudden flashes of light appeared far away on the horizon ;
the night was lit with bursts of red that flung whirring
bullets down upon the train of carts where men were
cursing and cracking their whips. Fierce flames shot
up almost at once from the houses round, there was a
jangle of bells in the church tower, and from a building
on the north side, which had been temporarily trans-
formed into a field hospital, came wild, bestial screams.
Hurrying flames slithered along the roof. The transport
animals were mad with fear. The peasants, who had
been commandeered with their teams, cut the traces
and galloped off ; revolvers cracked out, and heavy
wheels cut ugly ruts through the groups of men and
horses. Shouts of ' Every man for himself ' rose above
the din. At doors and windows, terrified Jews stretched
vain arms out towards the approaching terror. The
remainder of a Hungarian regiment dashed out with
wild shouts in the direction of the unseen enemy, making
for the eastern side of the village, and pouring out a hail
of lead into the darkness. It was a vain endeavour ; the
guns were far off, and had got the range most accurately.
The cries from the hospital building had ceased ; the roof
had fallen in, with a rain of sparks, and yellow tongues
of flame were licking greedily out from the windows.
The Tiefenbachers did not wait for more, but hurried off
as the first shells crashed down upon the square. They
struggled on for a couple of hours, and then, reaching
a village, flung themselves down to rest.

' Gentlemen,' said the Major, in a voice that was but
the weary shadow of his ordinary tone. ' Let the men
have one emergency ration, if you please. One, you

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 71

understand me. For Heaven's sake, see that they don't
break open the others.' The men ate their tinned meat
cold ; for two days they had eaten nothing but dry
bread. They found such quarters as they could in
cottages and barns. Zillner dropped exhausted on to
some evil-smelling straw in a cow-byre, and fell into a
leaden sleep.

The Russians did not follow up the pursuit, and next
morning the retreating masses of men were gradually
restored to order as far as could be done. Already the
leaders were preparing to resume concerted operations.
The long-lost third battalion of the Tiefenbachers came
in at last, having followed a line almost parallel with
the high road, and losing its leader on the way, smashed
to pieces by a shell. The glittering grey line had
shrunk to a third of its length. By good fortune, the
field kitchens were at hand, and the cooking pots boiled
gaily as ever.

Major Blagorski had still no mount of his own, but
had taken over one belonging to Hallada, who had no
longer any use for it.

The Brigadier sat in a car lately the property of
the General of Division, now deceased. His spectacles
twinkled uneasily as he glanced down the column, not-
ing the number and state of the men. He was feeling
far from comfortable. The unlooked-for disaster of
the day before had sent him flying terror-stricken, with
his staff, far ahead of the general retirement, and it was
not until this moment that he had learned of the destruc-
tion of the supply column. The entire transport of the
division — ^waggons, stores, and ammunition — had been
annihilated, and most of the telephone and telegraph
material was lost. Three waggons, under the charge
of a subaltern of engineers, had got away, and that was
all. Certainly, it was not a pleasant situation for a
Brigadier. There was considerable likelihood of some
disapprobation in high quarters, and how was he to
explain away the fatal error of leaving the entire trans-

n CAPTAIN ZlLLNER

port without orders in case of emergency ? He cast
about for some one upon whom to lay the blame.

' How comes it that the supply column had no orders
to retire ? ' he asked sternly, turning his spectacles full
on the young captain of the General Staff, who sat at
his side. But the other was wary, and guessed what
was in his mind.

* I only heard of it this morning, sir. Possibly Colonel
von Rutzinger, in the excitement of the moment, may
have omitted to send word. Naturally it did not
occur to me to consider even the possibility of such
an omission.'

* H'm — ^yes. H'm.' This left matters as bad as ever
for the Brigadier. He felt helplessly that the other was
meanly sheltering himself behind the shadow of the
dead Colonel, whose evidence was no longer procurable.
' H'm. Yes, no doubt. But afterwards — surely it must
have occurred to you later on to ascertain what had been
done. A point of so vital importance . . . Colonel von
Rutzinger having fallen, you would automatically take
his place.'

The young man faced the spectacled scrutiny with an
air of untroubled innocence. ' By that time, sir, we
were at a point where it would have been impossible to
ascertain what instructions had been given.'

' H'm. . . .' The Brigadier knit his brows, and was
silent for a moment. Then he went on, speaking with
injured emphasis, * It was unpardonable — altogether
unpardonable of the Chief of Staff to have forgotten it.
But in any case, the responsibility cannot be laid to my
charge.'

The Captain murmured a respectful assent.

All that remained of the Chief of Staff was a naked
corpse in the trenches far behind. The Cossacks had'
plundered and stripped the body, and left it to the crows,
that had formed up with greedy eyes to the funeral
parade. And those who mourned for him folded their
hands — ^the responsibility could not be laid to his charge.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 73

Those were the days when the Russian giant was
thrusting clumsily groping hands far into the Austrian
territory, driving in a wedge of men such as the world
had never seen. They poured in continually from the
east, making towards the capital,^ in numbers that upset
all calculations upon which the defence had been based.

* This is altogether unprecedented ; unlooked for,'
complained the General in Command. ' They 're not
giving us a fair chance. And from all information re-
ceived— no, it is impossible. And what are they doing
in the Ukraine ? They were to have risen in revolt at
the start. But there 's not a sign of any revolt. A most
unsatisfactory state of things all round.'

The General himself, without any particular qualifi-
cation for his task beyond the influence in high quarters
which had secured his appointment, felt himself aggrieved.
Elsewhere, the Austrian forces were pushing victoriously
on into the enemy's country, while he himself was forced
to act continually on the defensive. What could one
do in a case like this ? And castmg about for some for-
mula to aid his strategic mind, he hit upon the enticing
phrase, ' Ride them down I ' And he grasped it, making
it a crutch for his support. That was the way, of course ;
the very thing. Up in the north ^ his colleagues were
winning battles one after another, while he was expected
to sit here and hold the position — nothing more. It was
a minor part, with little chance of gaining any credit at
the end. Hang it all, what the others could do, he must
be able to do as well. The Russians were probably not
so strong after all — those last reports from his airmen
must be wrong. Had not the Intelligence Department,
always a model of organisation and method, assured him
that the mobilisation in the inner provinces of Russia

* The author is purposely vague as to which of the Austrian armies
is concerned in the events described. The situation here does not
strictly fit any section of the forces as actually placed, but he seems
to be thinking of the Third Army under General Bruderman, though
his force, in reality, never crossed the Polish frontier.

* The First Army under General Dankl, and the Fourth under
General von Auflfenbach.

74 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

was ' still far from complete enough to render the army
capable of taking the field, as the lack of adeqiiate rail-
way communication and transport facilities rendered it
a matter of no inconsiderable difficulty to effect the con-
centration of large bodies of troops.' This reassuring
statement was, moreover, ' confirmed by intelligence
received through confidential sources.'

What could be more trustworthy than this — from
such a quarter ? The General felt strongly inclined to
regard the information brought in by his own airmen
as exaggerated. Ahmen were excitable by tempera-
ment— they saw a great deal more than there was to
see. No, far better trust to the excellent authority of
the higher official source. The elegant phrasing, too,
was in itself calculated to inspire confidence. ' No
inconsiderable difficulty . . . lack of adequate com-
munication. . . .' No breathless excitement there. He
would chance it.

The Chief of Staff intimated, with a discreet smile and
a respectful murmur, that he too was disposed to
' chance it ' . . . and the General proceeded to act.
The army entrusted to his care was ordered out from its
position to advance against the enemy. The carefully
prepared defences, trenches and barbed wire entangle-
ments, shrapnel -proof shelters for machine-guns, and
laboriously constructed artillery positions — all these had
formed a barrier wall against which, according to the
plan first conceived by the Minister of War, the Russians
were to batter their foreheads until the armies operating
in the north could move down and roll them up from
the flank, when they would be driven back and crushed
against the rocky sides of the Carpathians. These
defences were now abandoned, and the troops moved out
to encounter the enemy in the open.

The advance proceeded rapidly enough. A small
force of light cavalry went on ahead. The giant hand
opened wide, while hundreds of thousands of men hurried
forward into its grip. . . . And then, it closed. The
General was verv distressed to find himself surrounded.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 75

It would be necessary to retreat, and that with speed I
He allowed the fact to be communicated to the men of
his courageous army, now fighting desperately and dying
like heroes, whereupon he himself lost no more time,
but motored off, driving with long stages and the briefest
halts. Behind him, the army was hacking its way back,
step by step, bleeding and tortured, scattered, and
striving to reunite. But the giant hand grasped first
at the capital, 1 and then turned to the northward, where
the hitherto victorious araiies were likewise forced to
halt, being threatened from flank and rear. They
halted, and commenced to retreat. Official telegrams
flooded the country with lying accounts of how it had
become necessary ' for strategical reasons ' to abandon
the capital, and reconstruct the front. And the bright-
ness of confidence began to be obscured by a veil of
doubt. Never since Radetzky's day had Austria been
so hopeful and so united as at the outbreak of the war.
But now the pessimists and the critics began to lift
their heads. ' Aha ! Abandon . . . reconstruct. . . .
We 're beaten, that 's what it means. Beaten already,
well, what did I say . . . ? ' And so the germ of doubt
and suspicion was spread abroad.

. . . Vienna was invaded by a locust-swarm of
fugitives, hungering for compassion, each bringing one
little story of private horror, which was told and retold
continually — so many little black flags of poverty, con-
fusion, fear, and the need of comfort, until the sun of
confidence was darkened by their number. The official
telegrams shouted to the people to keep cool. ' Listen
to me, to me, only to me 1 I alone am privileged to
know the truth — observe the guarantee of the kaiserl.
und konigl. censor; it is all here in black and white.
There is no deception. The reconstruction was affected
solely in order that we might await the enemy in a new
and far superior position, an impregnable position,^ and
ensure his final and complete destruction.'

* This would be Lemberg, the capital of Galicia.
' Crodek, the strong position west of Lemberg.

76 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

* All right,' croaked the pessimists. And the Press
shouted Bravo I — for behind the Press was the Boiirse,
anxious, terror-stricken, with quavering pulse and trem-
bling knees. * Bravo I Yes, the army has retired before
the weight of superior numbers, but we have still faith
in the brave hearts of the men and the genius of their
leaders. We are not downhearted — ^not a bit of it. No I *

Whereafter the Bourse took refuge in the phrases of
the newspaper leaders, and found new courage — of a
sort. But the troops ? The men in the ranks, the im-
known heroes, streaming back in broken columns along
every road ? They had marched bravely forward along
the road of sacrifice ; numbers beyond counting had
flung themselves joyously into certain death, without a
thought of self. These armies were as battering rams,
forged from the very hearts of the people, a braver
weapon than Austria in its best days had ever known.
And now the best of them lay dead in the sand, or were
driven in weary lines to captivity — a loss that nothing
could replace. These men had no share in the agony
of conscience that was ever in the minds of their leaders.
Regiments and battalions struggled back along the road
of pain, but they could yet hold their heads high, and
look their fellows in the face. They bore the honourable
marks of sacrifice, these beaten men ; the halo of un-
noted martyrdom shone over these poor draggled figures,
and brighter still it gleamed above the common graves.
There were regiments who had charged eight times in a
single day. There were some that had lost nine-tenths
of their officers, and two-thirds of their men m those
terrible months of August and September — regiments
brought down to the strength of battalions, and strug-
gling on hopelessly, the gleam of courage faded from
their eyes, the spirit crushed within. . . . Yet wherever
on that via dolorosa, with its landmarks of pain, the
broken men were called upon for yet another sacrifice,
they answered to the call, facing about and holding on
to the last man to cover the retreat of the rest. With
lifted heads, and hands grasping with new strength at

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 77

their rifles, these worn and filthy men, the peasants and
the workers in the cities, went cahnly and without com-
plaint to do their duty. Such were the men, the rank
and file.

On the third day, the black-and-yellow post that
marked the frontier appeared once more upon the road,
reaching out appealingly to the troops as they passed by.
Even the double eagle on the shield above seemed
stretching its neck towards them, as if begging not to be
left behind.

Feldkirch's division passed on in a great silence ;
men thought with a shudder of the horrors in which
their comrades lay buried. There were too many gaps
in their ranks, and the companies had been reformed.
Stragglers came in from time to time, and, counting these,
the strength of the companies was once more brought
up to something like a hundred men. More than half
were missing. But the column, shrunken as it was, had
regained a certain order ; the precious artillery rattled
along, carefully surrounded by infantry. Major Blag-
orski had found his horse, and had resumed his old
anxious respect for the injunctions of his superiors :
* Keep your men strictly in order, gentlemen, if you
please. The new commanding ofl&cer will soon be
here.'

Save for the shrinkage in numbers, there was little
in the appearance of the retreating army to show the
horrors of the last few days. Thanks to the constant
exertions of the ofiicers in encouraging their men, the
panic now was gone. The frightened mob, like a wild
beast, had been on the point of bursting out from the
cage of discipline, but they had forced it back again,
though at imminent risk to themselves, for terrified men
are not easy to handle at any time. The officers had
throughout been foremost in the advance and last in
retreat, the subalterns in particular, whose task it was
to lead in that dance of death. Zillner, riding behind
what was left of his company, thought of one whose
widow would shed bitter tears over a letter that he

78 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

carried in his breast-pocket. The other three were still
alive. Young Andrei had come in the day before,
with Pfustermeyer's company ; unharmed, but with the
furrow between his brows deeper than ever. * We '11
beat them yet, sir, never fear.'

The Czeci marched with his eyes fixed on the groimd.
A strange fellow. There was nothing to say against
him in any way : he kept his men in order, and, though
not exactly a hero in action, he had certainly not behaved
badly. He carried out his duties resignedly, as one
unfairly set in a dangerous post, which he defended
without enthusiasm. He was not of those who gladly
shed their last drop of blood in the common cause. He
was a son of that divided race that had grown fat on
(Jerman culture, and yet thirsted for the doubtful well-
springs wherewith great mother Russia watered the
endless wastes of Panslavism.

Prager, the third, was the same as ever. Cool and
indolent, always with a cigarette between his lips.
Brave, because his honour as a member of his student
corps demanded courage, not from any kind of military
ambition. His men, the tactical situation, the progress
of the war itself — aU these were things that did not
concern him in the least. He would march cheerfully
at the head of his men, and exposed himself when
necessary, but hfi exerted no influence among the rest ;
only kept to himself, and smoked his cigarettes.

Zillner was happy to have his three subordinates still
with him. The experiences of those last few days were
of a sort to create attachment between the men who had
lived through them. He rode now, as did his brother
captains, deep in thought, resigning himself to a feeling
of melancholy, as at a funeral, where the longing for a
resurrection makes itself felt behind the thought of
death. They were still young, and the good bright
light of the Sim was cheering ; the dreadful things of life
are soon forgotten after all. They were sHll alive, and
could not help b^:inning to hope once more. Hesitat-
ingly at first, then with increasiDg strength, the men

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 79

began to throw off the fear that had haunted them till
now.

It was otherwise with the General Staff. The man
who but a few days back had pointed forward with the
imperative gesture of a new Napoleon, was suffering
now the agonies of a reproachful conscience ; orders
and instructions were sent out unceasingly, and precau-
tions taken for every conceivable emergency. Outposts
were set continually to guard against any surprise from
the heavily advancing Russians, so that the men were
despoiled of their night's rest. The higher command
exhibited every symptom of nervous anxiety, racing on
swift cars far ahead of the main body, pulling up here
and there to improvise some temporary headquarters
on the way, and issuing detailed orders thence to the
various units as to what should be done in the event of
this or that, all precisely as on manoeu\Tes. One point,
however, was insisted upon with an earnestness that told
of something more : the troops were to entrench them-
selves without fail every night before going to rest.
And so the road-wearied men dug trenches every night,
only to march on next morning leaving their work
behind them unproved. The enemy never attacked
these positions, but contented himself with engaging the
rearguard on the march, preferably about noon, the
action then lasting until evening. The men sacrificed
themselves bravely, and the retreat went on.

From a practical point of view, ever^i;hing was most
carefully provided for. Other arrangements, however,
left much to be desired. The men were poorly fed ;
meat was obtainable, but there was no bread to be had.
The men had not tasted bread for seven days, and the
villages they passed through had already been ransacked
for everything eatable. The supply officers shrugged
their shoulders ; the field bakeries had been captured
with the transport, their stores likewise. Force majeure
, . . Dies irce. . . . The army was growing desperate
with exhaustion. Any man who fell out was certain
of being finished off by the Cossacks that prowled round

80 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

flanks and rear like jackals, alternately craven and bold.
Their own cavalry struggled along on worn and starving
horses ; the petted animals, all unused to the hardships
of the field, could not hold out without proper quarters
and regular feeding, and died off now like flies ; the
roads were hedged on either side by the swollen bodies
of dead beasts, and the dismounted Centaurs followed
ignominiously on foot at the tail of the columns. The
population of the villages and hamlets preserved a
humble silence ; it was the will of God. In the Polish
quarters the women shrieked aloud at sight of the
troops in retreat, dreading plunder and worse to come.
The miserable Ruthenians stood with deferential smiles
as long as they were observed, and grinned maliciously
as soon as one's back was turned. And the priest was
always to be seen in an attitude of humility before his
church, with his hands folded over his portly stomach.

On the fifth day of the retreat, an unpleasant episode
occurred. Grill had been detached with his company
on flank guard, and halted his men at midday in a
Ruthenian village. The men were sent to fetch water
from a well in the courtyard of the Biirgermeister, as
being presumably the best in the place. The peasant
stood obligingly with a row of buckets ready filled.
This unusual courtesy on the part of a Ruthenian struck
Grill as curious, and a sudden suspicion crossed his
mind. * Wait,' he cried, ' let the fellow drink himself.'
The man turned pale, and glanced uneasily round.
' Drink, you dog I ' roared Grill. Desperately the
peasant turned, and would have fled, but it was too
late. ' Hold him — so. And now pour the stuff down
his throat.' Five men held him, bound his hands, and
tried to force the rim of a cup between his teeth ; the
man struggled and spat.

The water was saturated with arsenic. Grill set a
cordon of men to surround the house, and went through
the rooms. A woman, an old man of seventy, and three
little girls were dragged out.

* Tie them together, and set them against the wall.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 81

A volley was fired ; the troops set the village on fire
and marched off.

That evening Grill told the story to the others.
Zillner looked at him, and asked casually : * The
woman and the children — you shot them too ? '

* Of course. Stamp out the whole brood— the only
thing to do.'

That was Grill's way.

They came to the great river/ on the banks of which
the students of the art of war had fought out their fiercest
discussions over the Kriegsspiel in the days of peace.
The army crossed unopposed. Next day the giant hand
came groping across, only to close on the empty air.
Then it was withdrawn and groped its way towards the
fortress in the south. ^

But the Austrian armies hurried on, and did not pause
until they had penetrated far into the western tracts of
their own country. The north, east, and south were
occupied by the enemy.

* The river San. ' Przemysl.

F

CHAPTER VI

Graiid old regiments, and glorious. . . . Summer was
nearing its close, and war strode breathing mightily
through the land. To the north, the power of the
German war machine, handled by men of genius, had
checked the heavy-witted masses of the advancing
Russians, and flung them back across the frontier ; to
the west, again, the persistent violence of the German
onslaught had demolished fortresses, conquered a
country, and was now pushing on stubbornly, undimin-
ished, through the territories of an ancient foe. Mean-
while, in the south, Austrian courage, under incapable
leaders, was being drained of its blood in the struggle
against the heroic defence of a misguided people. It was
here that Martens' Brigade, the Haugwitz Dragoons and
the Uhlans, made their last charge ; a death-ride never
to be forgotten.

On a level plain, six thousand paces across, a mighty
line of Russian guns thundered out upon our infantiy.
Martens' Brigade, untouched as yet, was posted in a
little hollow on the left flank, with the regiments drawn
up in line. Fifteen hundred horsemen, still more or less
decently mounted ; a whinnying, stamping, shaking of
heads, and whisking of tails all down the long front.
Flies and hornets, intoxicated with the sun, hung in
bloodthirsty swarms about the glistening bodies of the
horses, fastening themselves on flank and shoulder, belly
and neck, sucking and stinging mercilessly. The tor-
tured animals flung up their heels, and flicked their
cropped tails, but all in vain.

Krottenburg slapped with his gauntlet at the delicate
neck of his restless thorotighbred. * Got you, that time,
you beast 1 Look at him : big as a grasshopper. Ugh ! '

8t

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 88

He held out the crushed body of a huge wasp towards his
companion. * Seem to thrive, don't they, even in this
filthy hole ?'

* That 's just it,' said Pelzl, the heavyweight captain
of his troop. * Bugs and fleas and lice and Jews — just
the sort of things that would thrive in a place like this.
Increase and multiply — tropical luxuriance — the old
story. And the finer senses gradually disappear. No
such thing as a bath — and as for manicure . . .'

* Bath — no, you 're right there,' sighed Krottenburg.
* Even the women don't wash. I never saw such a lot ;
they are simply not fit to be touched. Here and there
in the big country houses perhaps, you may find one or
two of them passably clean — ^but they We bagged by the
General Staff. . . . Heigho, it 's a rotten life.'

' Women again 1 ' said Pelzl, glancing at the dejected
face of his handsome subaltern. ' What an ungrateful
beggar j'^ou are ! With a charming wife of your
own . . .'

' Yes, of course,' said Krottenburg, patting the neck
of his chestnut caressingly. ' Lisl — she writes every
day, pages full of what d' you call it, anxious, you know,
and tender, and all that. I didn't mean that. But,
hang it all, a man can't help it ; animal craving, fair
sex, and that sort of thing. You know what I mean.'

' Gallant youth I Ought to be ashamed of yourself.
Hullo, look I What are their High-and -Mightinesses
over there palavering about now, I wonder.' Pelzl
looked across at the rising ground, where the Divisional
Staff was drawn up, with glasses pointing towards the
horizon. ' Something brewing. Wonder if it 's for us ?
It 's an infantry business really ; we 've nothing to do
anyhow but sit tight and look on till it 's settled one way
or another. They might have let us dismount and un-.
saddle, too, instead of keeping us here over an hour on
parade, and tiring out the horses. Oh, they 're a nice . . .'

The criticism was interrupted by the voice of the
Brigadier, cutting in sharply over the heads of the rest-
less horses, * Commanding officers, if you please.'

84 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

' Off to his Excellency,' murmured Krottenburg.
* Gk)ing to dismount us, I suppose, and set us pot-shotting
with the infantry. Of all the dismal games. . . . Might
as well be road-mending. Ugh 1 '

' It 's hardly likely. There are no enemy infantry for
miles on this flank. Wait and see.'

Colonel Count Schartenhayn-Binswangen's splendid
bay pranced lightly down the front of the regiment.
The Colonel, white-haired, yet lithe of figure as any
subaltern, rode with long stirrups, and an easy, careless
seat, yet with that inimitably graceful elegance in the
saddle which distinguishes the Austrian cavalry officer
from all other horsemen in the world. He had been a
prominent figure on the turf.

He galloped off now towards the group on the hill,
the three staff officers following.

The hawk-nosed General of Division turned, and
pointed towards the enemy artillery on the farther side
of the plain, as if marking down his prey.

' There, Colonel, if you please. That line of guns.'

* Yes, your Excellency ? ' The Brigadier stared un-
comprehendingly at his superior officer.

' We are facing the right flank of the position. Your
brigade will attack there, if you please.'

The old soldier sat up stiffly. ' Your Excellency will
permit me : our patrols report that the batteries are
well under cover, and their front protected with barbed
wire defences. There is also a battalion of infantry on
their right, in support of the guns.'

The General's sallow cheek flushed a dull red. ' And
what then, sir ? My order was surely clear enough.'

The strong, worn face of the Brigadier turned a shade
darker. * I thought it my duty, your Excellency, to
point out, with all respect, that the order could hardly
be carried out successfully.'

' What — ^what do you mean ? Not be carried out.
We shall see. Now, sir, once more. Your two regi-
ments will advance instantly to the attack. Instantly,
You understand me ? '

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 85

* Yes, your Excellency, I understand.'

* Captain von Sagberg of my staff will lead the attack.
He has reconnoitred the ground.'

The young staff officer bit his lip. ' Very good, your
Excellency.'

Once more the Brigadier raised his hand to the salute.

* Your Excellency, I would respectfully request that the
order be given me in writing.'

* And why, sir ? ' The General's scraggy neck seemed
straining at his gold -embroidered collar, as he thrust
out his yellow bird-like face towards the other.

' That it may be found upon my person afterwards,
in proof that / was not responsible for the destruction
of the brigade.'

' Sir. . . .'

The two looked hard into each other's eyes ; those
of the one aflame with fury, the other's steady as lances
of steel. At last the vulture face drew back slowly :
his Excellency turned to his Chief of Staff, his voice
tremulous with the struggle for self-control. * Make out
the order in writing. Major, if you please.' The order
was written, and he scrawled his name at the foot.

* There, sir. And now, I presume I may request you to
attack as I have said.'

* Zu Befehl, Excellenz.^

Four men rode smilingly back to the brigade ; four
men released from human hope, no longer bound by the
most human thought of all, the thought of life. Four
soldiers, hurrying back to their regiments, to do their
duty. Life they knew was far behind them now ; be-
fore them, nothing but an honourable death. And so
they smiled.

The Colonel of dragoons reined up facing his men,
and rose in his stirrups. ' Men ! ' The voice of the
white-haired old aristocrat rang out like the call of a
silver trumpet to man and horse. * We are advancing
to the attack. And you will show that you are, by God's
grace, of that same good fighting stock as your fathers,
who fought at Malplaquet and Kollin, at Aspern and

86 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

Strzezetitz. On, then, dragoons, God with usl' The
sabre flashed out like blue flame toward the sky. * Trot I *

The squadrons emerged from the gully, their accoutre-
ments ringing and gleaming in the sun, and advanced,
making toward the right flank of the line of guns, the
Brigadier and the young staff officer leading. The flood
of horsemen made a wonderful sight. Unreal, indeed,
it seemed ; a vision conjured up from the dim past,
when the prowess of mounted ironsides or cavaliers
decided the fate of battles. But to-day. . . .

* Gallop 1 ' Blrottenburg felt his chestnut straining at
the bit, bounding with mighty strides over turf and
sand, delighting in the rush of cool air on its flanks.
The rider himself, looking out from under his grey-
muffled helmet, saw all things vaguely through a rose-
coloured veil. There was no thought in his mind of
anything. Landmarks ahead came towards them,
neared, passed, and vanished under the rushing hoofs ;
in front again were the leaders, swaying rhythmically
in the saddle at each galloping stride. . . .

Krottenburg, like a good soldier, felt now but one
thing : On, on, and cut them down ! On ! He pressed
the heaving sides of his charger, well behind the girth,
. and surged forward drunk with the ecstasy of the horse-
man at his best. Thus his father had ridden, at Strzeze-
titz, against the men whose sons were now his comrades
in arms. No thought, no question — only the instinct
to press on — on, on, and cut them down !

Pelzl the heavyweight flung his arms wide, a gesture
ICrottenburg knew, and next moment his saddle was
empty. But Klrottenburg felt no pang at the sight of
the motionless body, as the hurrying earth beneath the
hoofs bore it towards him. The thoroughbred cleared
the broad spread mass of flesh in a stride, and passed on.
Ahead of them, the machine-guns had opened fire. The
young staff officer slid backward to the ground, and a
moment later the Brigadier too was down ; both lay
pinned under their horses with the hoofs jerking con-
vulsively above them.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 87

On, on . . . The Colonel's white hair still shone out
tlirough the clouds of dust. Bending down over the
neck of his charger, and with sabre pointing forward
towards the guns, he dashed on, the regiment at his heels,
all wild with the fury of the race.

There they were — ^plainly visible now, the men at the
guns, and there the guns themselves. Ready I

' On, men, on ! ' roared Krottenburg ; * we have them
now. On, on, dragoons ! ' For the first time in his life
his voice was unsteady, as the voice of a man delirious.
' Hurrah ! dragoons, hurrah ! '

But what was this ? — things turning round, whirling,
quicker and quicker . . . the guns quite close, but
whirling over to the right, no, to the left, and rocking,
rocking . . . What was happening ? Now he himself
falling, floating down softly to a great depth, softly,
softly . . . Lisl, forgive, Lisl, Lisl . . .'

Through a heavy grey mist he saw that horses were
rushing past him ; horses with empty stirrups flying.
And then no more.

On a little eminence, comfortably out of range, sat
he of the vulture face, with his aide, watching the
attack. ' Wanted waking up a bit, that 's all. They 're
getting along in fine style now.' What do you say.
Major ? '

The Chief of Staff made no answer, but vowed inwardly
that when once this business was over, he would use all
his influence to get transferred into an easier post — a
comfortable chair in an office, at the Ministry. ... If
only they were well out of this. . . . Surely the war god
still protected them ? He would never let them all . . .
all . . .

He glanced covertly at his Excellency, and the latter
spoke again. ' There you are — ^you see ? Quite close.
They '11 cut those batteries to mincemeat in good cavalry
style, just watch. . . .'

Then the guns spoke. The vulture face craned out
from the gold-embroidered collar ; ' Open out, open

88 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

out — in a case like this — obviously, with an objective of
that extent. . . . Tut, tut — really, gentlemen, to go on
like that in close order — altogether impossible.'

But the staff preserved an icy silence. The Major
rubbed his close - cropped bristly moustache with a
trembling hand — ^rubbed it intently, continually. . . .

For the brigade had disappeared — evaporated. A few
of the horses were still to be seen ; little dark specks
whirling about frantically in the distance ; then they
too vanished leaving no trace, as raindrops vanish in a
thirsty soil. One or two of them made toward their own
lines, dashing in riderless, and with their trappings torn
to rags. One came straight up to where the General
stood ; on it came, growing bigger and bigger, rushing
madly towards them. . . . The beast halted in the midst
of the scattered group, and stood submissively as an
orderly came up to lead it away. It was Colonel
Schartenhayn*s bay charger. And at sight of it the
yellow vulture face grew sicklier still ; the General
swung his horse round, and bowed his sharp nose over
its neck :

* My Gk>d, my God, why didn't they open out ? In
close order ! . . . And this is the result. . . .'

No one spoke. The staff galloped back in silence,
following the bowed figure of their general to the safety
of the rear. Martens' Brigade had ceased to exist.

But the Lady Empress, in her Heaven, might have
frowned that day, and spoken sternly : ' Truly, not
for such as he of the vulture face did we found this our
Order. For heroes ; not for such as he. Who hath
indeed rather merited the whipping post, the pillory, and
thereafter to be banished from our realm.'

So she might have spoken, our good Empress-Mother,
and with tears.

• ••••••

K^- It was late in the afternoon when Krottenburg came
to himself. He was lying in the shelter of a small copse ;
a brook was murmuring near by. The trumpeter of his
squadron was bending over him,

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 89

' What — ^what 's the matter with me, Niederbichler ?
And where 's the squadron ? '

' Mustn't talk, sir — ^beg pardon, I 'm sure. I mean,
better not just now.* The man, a tall, broad-shouldered
butcher from Vienna, had a bloodstained bandage about
his head. ' We 're all right for the present, sir, trust me.'

' But where are the others ? And what 's happened
to Ariosto ? ' Krottenburg, his handsome face now
deathly pale, strove to raise himself from the ground,
but sank back with a muttered curse. His head was
dizzy, and figures of light danced before his eyes. The
trumpeter was settling something under his shoulders,
it seemed. And it hurt when he tried to speak. ' Am I
wounded, Niederbichler ? '

' Nothing very much, sir, only a bit of a bullet in the
chest. Nothing hurt inside, far as I can see. Best not
to talk, sir, if I might make so free. It might bring on
the bleeding again.'

Blood . . . Krottenburg looked down at his tunic;
it was dyed a reddish brown. He put one hand to
his chin, and felt a sticky crust extending up over
his mouth.

* Niederbichler — it '11 soon be over, won't it ? Get
along, man, and let me die.' He leaned back again ;
there were red stars flickering before his eyes, thousands
of little red stars. ' My wife . . . tell her . . . Last
thoughts . . . '

* Oh, it 's not as bad as that, sir,' said the man, with a
smile. ' Bit of a scratch, that 's all. Be in the saddle
again within a month, I '11 warrant. Only he still a bit,
sir, the bandage isn't very safe.'

' You 've bandaged me yourself ? You 're a good
chap, Niederbichler. Thanks.'

He lifted one hand, but it seemed to hang like a leaden
weight from the wrist.

' Not a bit of it, sir. Don't catch us Haugwitzers
leaving our officers in the lurch — ^and a Viennese at that.'
The trumpeter twisted his neat browii moustache with a
satisfied air.

90 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

* I can't remember — ^what it was. How did it happen
— ^the whole thing ? ' Krottenburg stammered out the
words in a broken whisper, every word cost him a twinge
of pain. His voice seemed glued in his throat, and he
could hardly draw sufficient breath to speak.

' It was a beastly job, sir, and that 's the truth.'
Niederbichler shook his fist towards the horizon; the
roar of the guns had altogether ceased. 'The swine I
. . . They cut us up — cleared away the whole lot of us —
with machine-guns and spreading shot — ^there isn't ten
men come out of it alive. I was riding behind the
Captain at first — then when he went down, I swung the
old chestnut round and fell in behind you, sir. Then all
of a sudden, there I was on the ground and half silly, as
you might say. Looked around — after the squadron ;
they'd gone on. Then you come down, sir, and then,
one after another, falling in heaps. Whole squadron —
just wiped out. Then I got up, thinking what to do —
you lying stiff as a log a hundred paces on ahead. But
I reckoned you might not be done for yet. I was quick
on my feet, as you may guess, sir, but half way across,
I felt my helmet bashed in, and a sort of hottish feeling
running down the sides. Couldn't be much as long as
it felt like that, I reckoned, and on I went, and got across
to you all right. And, just as I thought, when I ripped
up the tunic a bit, I could see it wasn't more than a bit
of a scratch. So I stayed by.'

* Sure, it 's not . . . ? ' Krottenburg questioned
anxiously, with his eyes.

* Not a bit of it, sir. Lungs, that 's all. Heal up in no
time. Well, after that we lay there, may be a couple of
hours. There was a lot of the horses racing about at
first, and one or two of the men, but then they dropped,
and that was the end. They stopped shooting after a
bit, and then I brought you along, sir, and here we are.'

* Thanks, Niederbichler. I shan't forget.'

* Now we '11 lie low a bit till it gets dark, and the
Cossacks can't see us, and then we '11 try and find a
village, or an ambulance or something.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 91

Kjottenbiirg felt his cheeks burning, and there was
a dull sickly feeling in his chest. Something hot welling
up continually into his throat, that had to be swallowed
down and kept burning up again. Great drops of sweat
stood out on his forehead.

The sun went down, and blue shadows crept over the
plain. ' Better be getting on now, sir,' whispered the
trumpeter. ' Gently, lean your weight on me all you
can. That 's it. Hold on there by the collar.'

' I 'm not a lightweight,' murmured Krottenburg,
smiling weakly. ' It 's no good — ^better leave me where
lam.'

* Not a bit of it. We 're getting on famously. You
just hang on, sir, and I '11 manage the rest.'

Krottenburg felt the strong arms passed under his
knees, lifting him up ; then the hot flood welled up again
in his throat, he strove to keep it back, but in vain. It
pumped forth now in heavy gulps, a gurgling, dark red
froth of blood. The trumpeter laid his master gently
down by the edge of the brook, dipped his handkerchief
in the water, and laid it gently on the wounded man's
forehead. Then taking his water bottle, he tried to
force a little water through the other's teeth. ' Don't
swallow it, sir, only rinse and spit it out again. It 's
nasty cholera stuff the water here.'

Krottenburg murmured something confusedly, and
his head fell back. The trumpeter stood up, shaking
his sinewy fists at the distant horizon and swore aloud.
Then gently he lifted the unconscious man, dragged him
across to a patch of grass, and laid him down. ' 'Tis a
heavy weight to lift,' he gasped to himself, wiping the
sweat from the face, all caked with dust and blood.
There was rage in his heart against those who had
brought his handsome lieutenant to this.

The moon had risen, flooding the place with a milky
light, and, striking full on the pale face of the wounded
man, he lay like a stricken Knight of the Holy Grail,
the scion of a noble race, thoroughbred through many
generations of proud blood. It showed in the lon^

92 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

sinewy limbs, in the lines of his clear-cut features . There
was no striking originality in the face, no marked indi-
viduality, no deviation from the normal, such as a mix-
ture of blood can produce, at times passing it on insis-
tently through generations as if by witchcraft. An
unmistakable touch of something calculating and shrewd
about the eyes may be the heritage of one whose dis-
tant ancestor so far forgot his duty to the race as to
choose the pretty daughter of a merchant prince for his
bride. Or a trace of something Jewish about the nose
and mouth may be engrafted on the stock by one who
had been forced to an alliance that saved the threatened
fortunes of his house. ... Or even, perhaps, a gleam
of something exotic, of a more passionate, more creative
intelligence, may light the brow, a trait derived from the
lapse of some ancestress who had listened to the pleadings
of some princely adventurer, some poet, artist, singer —
or perhaps even a man of letters.

There was no such blemish in the pale face that looked
up unseeing to the moon above the copse. Krottenburg
was handsome, as all his race had been for centuries.
His features bore the stamp of ancient lineage carefully
preserved, through a line of ancestors counting brave,
noble and distinguished soldiers, and gracious, honour-
able ladies who had not learned to shrink from mother-
hood ; mothers who had never known unfeudal desires,
who had given and maintained the beauty that had ever
been the distinguishing mark of the Krottenburgs. And
the common fate of the men of this fighting race seemed
nearing its fulfilment here. It was rarely that a Krotten-
burg died in his bed, and a family conclave on the Day
of Judgment would call them up from many distant
lands. From Kuno, earliest of that ilk, who had fallen on
the banks of the Marsch, while fighting under Rudolf of
Habsburg's banner, to Freiherr Wolfgang von Krotten-
burg, father of the present Lieutenant, who had died
in the saddle in Bosnia, there were few who had not
died a violent death. In the Holy Land, and on most
of the battlefields of Europe, from Naples to the Baltic,

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 98

and from Waterloo to Moscov, lay the bones of Krotten-
burgs mouldering in the earth.

The last of the stock opened his eyes. ' Better now,*
he whispered. * Much better now. Think I could walk
a Uttle.'

* Never think of it, sir. Just lie quiet a bit, and I '11
take you on again. There 's a village just across there.*

There was a sound of footsteps approaching. The
dragoon slipped noiselessly behind a tree, and stared
out into the darkness. * (xood luck — it 's an ambulance
patrol. Hey, there, this way.'

But the Red Cross heroes had taken to their heels,
evidently suspecting a Cossack trick. An hour later a
stretcher party came up, making straight for the wood.

' Hey, hallo 1 ' shouted the trumpeter.

The corporal in charge of the party flung his rifle to
his shoulder, and hailed back : * Who goes there ? '

* Austrians, can't you hear.'

* The password ? '

* How should I know ? I 'm from Vienna, anyhow,
and here 's my lieutenant wounded.'

* Right — stay where you are.' And the patrol — a.
detachment of the Kaiser jagers — came running up.

' Are you from the dressing station ? Where is it ? *

* We '11 show you.' The Knight of the Holy Grail
was laid on a stretcher, and they moved off through the
moonlight to a village close by. Here the last scion of
the KJrottenburgs was put to bed, and soon had fallen
into a restless sleep.

CHAPTER VII

' You have now, I trust, gained some idea as to the
theory of the work which you have volunteered to
undertake.' The Professor, a stout Httle man with pince-
nez, glanced round the operating theatre, which was
filled with an audience of ladies in fashionable attire.
And an ironical smile played round his hard mouth as
he went on : ' We have yet to see how you will take it
in practice. I warn you, there is nothing in the least
romantic about it. The work of a field hospital is filthy
and nauseating ; it calls for skilful hands that are not
afraid of touching the most abominable horrors, and
iron nerves — the olfactory nerves especially.'

' Oh, how nasty ! ' whispered a fair young lady to her
neighbour. ' Really, he seems to take a delight in saying
unpleasant things. No tact, no consideration — vulgar
little man.'

Her companion, a brunette with an air of superlative
refinement, shuddered affectedly in her thin blouse.
' Yes, indeed ! I positively tremble to think of what he
may say next. There are things which it is really too
painful to hear.'

' And see — think of it, Trudi — ^horrible I '

The two women edged closer in to each other, staring
at the florid, clumsy creature in his white overall, like
young birds fascinated by a cat.

* And then the way he sniffs — Ugh, nasty little man I '
The Professor inhaled the scent of clean human bodies,

cosmetics, and fine linen, as if analysing it, and then
exhaled again somewhat noisily.

* You have come here to-day bringing with you all
sorts of perfumes from your wardrobes and cupboards . . .'

* Cupboards — what an idea I * gasped the fair girl.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 95

* In a word, — ^the air you are accustomed to breathe.
The place here will get used to it, no doubt ; you, on
your part, will have to get used to the smell of blood and
matter from suppurating sores — and blood and matter
are very different from roses and lilies of the valley.
They stink, my dear ladies, they stink abominably.'

There was an uneasy movement among the audience.
Thirty hats seemed shivering at once, and there was a
slight shuffling of feet. . . .

But the brutal frankness of the surgeon did not pro-
duce the same effect on all. A tight-laced baroness, with
distinctly Jewish features, leaned forward from the third
bench towards the dreadful person below, watching him.
with greedy eyes through her lorgnette. A terrible man !
She would go through fire and water — there was nothing
she would not do for such a man ! Behind, a noble
spinster, whose virtue had never been assailed by oppor-
tunity, whispered venomously : ' If I were a wounded
man, I know what I could do.'

* What, what ? ' asked the over-slender Samaritan at
her side, with little rat-like eyes opened wide.

' If I were a wounded man and saw her coming, I 'd
sham dead till she had gone.'

* If that would save you ! I do believe she would look
at a dead man with just the same. ... It 's perfectly
disgusting.' The two old maids coughed in sympathy,
and sat looking stiffly before them. In the meantime,
two covered stretchers had been brought in.

* Eccempla trahunt — that is to say, we learn by example.
I have a couple of specimens for you to-day — two samples
of human wreckage and misery, in no way connected
with the doings of war. Close in a little, if you please ;
this way. You will now have an opportunity of showing
what you have learnt. These two patients have to be
washed and bandaged.' His voice took on a harsh,
commanding tone. ' Come closer, if you please. And
bring your hearts with you, not your smelling bottles.'
And as the stream of fashionable costumes rustled to-
wards him, he went on ; ' Those of you who do not feel

96 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

able to stand the sight and smell of ugly things, had
better leave at once, and for good. It will save trouble
for all concerned.'

* Really,' murmured the fair girl with a little stamp
of her foot, * if it weren't for what people would say, I
would not stay a moment longer. The man is simply
appallingly indecent.'

' It 's dreadful,' agreed her friend. ' But think of the
war.' The two stepped down on to the floor, keeping
well to the back. None of the others had left the room ;
all were standing waiting to see what was to come. A
thin wave of perfume rose from the group of women
standing in half circle round the surgeon ; very faint
it seemed beside the penetrating smell of ether and
carbolic from the little table close by. The Professor
made a sign, and one of the stretchers was brought
forward, the trained nurses standing by with calm, hard
features under their white hoods. The patient was a
woman of about fifty, with a red and swollen face ; her
bloodshot eyes wandered restlessly over the unaccus-
tomed scene.

* This woman,' began the Professor, ' is a drunkard.'
His voice had grown suddenly gentle as His who said
' Suffer little children to come unto me.' ' A hopeless
case. She cannot hear what we are saying — hearing
almost gone. Take away the sheet, please.'

A nurse lifted the sheet, and drew up the woman's
chemise. The emaciated body, with breasts hanging
down like empty bags, was stiff with dirt. The yellow
skin was crusted with it. On the right hip was a great
boil, white at the edges, and with matter exuding.

' Look at this please. The patient had a fall some
weeks ago, probably while under the influence of drink.
The slight wound thus caused has become inflamed by
dirt, and finally developed into this. Blood and matter,
you perceive. The smell, as I have said, is unpleasant.
But it is a favourite perfume of war.'

Already the women were almost overpowered by the
foul stench that rose from this wretched himaan sample

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 97

of disease combined with poverty and filth. They stood
in silence before the horror they were called upon to view.
A few held lace handkerchiefs to their noses ; two had
sat down on the front bench, trying hard not to faint.

' (Test plus fort que rhoi ! ' gasped out a countess,
famed throughout Vienna as a leading light in the
arrangement of charity bazaars. ... * We must help
where we can — ^but this . . . No, I can't stand it.' She
fled from the room, holding a tiny white handkerchief
to her face. Ten of the others followed.

'The patient must first be washed. The bandaging
afterwards.' The merciless taskmaster looked round
among his pupils. * Aha ! thinning out already. Good,
very good ! '

*T Two nurses lifted the woman up on to a table covered
with plate glass. Suddenly she screamed. * Don't go
hurting me now — ^no, no — not there . . . Put me down,
ye devils — ^put me down, I say, ye filthy whores.'

'We 're not going to hurt you, poor soul ! ' said the
surgeon, laying a hand gently on the thin, draggled hair.
She ceased crying out, but stared wildly about her. He
bent down and shouted in her ear, * You 're going to
be washed — washed and bandaged. That 's all.'

*Washed — a mercy I And what for ? '

To make you well again.'

Ah, thank ye kindly, your honour, thank ye . . . wash
. . . well, well, then . . . She shook her head, and
murmured indistinctly.

The Professor looked round as if in search of something,
and fixed upon the fair girl, who was standing at the
back, sheltering behind the broad back of the Hebrew
baroness.

* You, if you please, young lady.' The girl stepped
forward hesitatingly. He had picked her out at the very
first — the brute.

* Smartly, if you please. We have no time to waste.
Put on an overall — here. Soap, sponge, and carbolic.
Now begin.'

The girl slipped on the overall with a shudder, and took

o

98 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

the soap and sponge. ' Where — where am I to ... '
she stammered.

' From the neck downwards, if you please.'
With an effort the novice fell to work, pressing the
sponge with the tips of her fingers against the patient's
breast. But as the lukewarm water found its way
through the crusted dirt, the sick woman began cursing
anew. ' Take it away — ^take it away, I say. Ah, can't
ye leave a poor woman alone ? Leave me alone, ye white-
faced bitch — d' ye hear ? I won't have it ! Ah, get
away, ye miserable whore, or I '11 tear ye to bits, I say.'
This was too much for the girl. She dropped soap and
sponge, and, holding her hands to her burning cheeks, fled
from the room. Her neighbour and seven other ladies
followed.

* Very poor people often talk like that,' said the surgeon
gently. * The next lady, please ? Come — ^who is ready ? '

There was a rustle of indecision among the indignant
few that still remained. The Jewish lady with the
prominent bust seemed for a moment to be considering
whether she might not after all overcome her disgust
for the ghastly nakedness that lay exposed to the gaze
of culture and refinement. But possibly she lacked the
true enthusiasm of the Samaritan. For the soul in this
abundant fleshly casket cried continually that it was for
his sake — for the sake of that strong, commanding brute
of a man — she would gladly have shown him that there
was nothing she would not do at his bidding. Yet she
could not bring herself to approach the table, where the
sick woman lay, now staring apathetically around. No
— better wait for the next. The other patient was a
man — and that would at least be . . .

* Well ? ' The Professor was already on the point
of dismissing the volunteer angels of mercy with a few
ironical words, and an earnest request that they would
not trouble to come again, when a pale young woman
stepped forward. ' If you please, I should hke to try.'

' Aha ! Lisl Krottenburg — really very plucky of
her,' whispered the noble spinster in the background.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 99

* I do hope though . . . they say actually one gets . . .
er — ^vermin, you know.'

Baroness Lisl stepped over to the table, and laid a
hand reassuringly on the patient's forehead. ' Now lie
still, there 's a dear. It won't hurt, you know, and it
will do you good.' The woman's eyes wavered uneasily,
and her face twitched, as if she were about to protest
again, but she did not scream. She bore the touch of
soap and sponge without complaint, and murmured,
' Ay, she does it gently with her soft hands.' At last
she even smiled, and when Lisl carefully and tenderly
commenced washing the sore, she did not shrink, but
murmured again, ' Soft hands, soft hands, a blessed
angel. . . .'

The sun peeped through the high windows, shedding
a soft light over the sick woman's smiling face. ' Better
now, isn't it ? ' said Lisl.

'Ay, I dare say,' murmured the other faintly, ' had to
be washed sometime, I dare say. . . .'

Meantime the lady with the embonpoint was busy with
the other patient. This was a fitter, who had had the
flesh torn from his back by a machine. He was in great
pain, and the Jewess touched him with deft fingers.
The Professor smiled. ' You have the right touch,
ladies, I see.' Then turning to the others : ' Those who
are able and willing to go on with this may come again
to-morrow as usual. Those who are not, will be good
enough to consider their course of instruction at an end.'
He bowed curtly, and left the room. The ladies rustled
out offendedly.

' Charming trio they will make,' sneered the noble
spinster, ' the flower of Austrian nobility, the Old Testa-
ment, and peasant vulgarity of the new school. And
then a stench from the slums . . . the language of the
gutter. . . . No, thank you. I have had quite enough.'

' Quite enough indeed,' agreed her companion. And
the would-be angels of mercy, as they stepped out into
the sunlight, were all of the same opinion. Yet most of
them came again next day nevertheless. Qtte faire ?

100 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

It was a part of one's social obligation in those days.
And where one fell out, there were ten to take her place.
As gnats about a lighthouse, these ladies of society
fluttered about the famous surgeon, and the more brut-
ally he behaved, the more they felt his fascination.
There were, it is true, a few who honestly wished to be
of use, and these the choleric little man singled out with
unfailing insight from the rest. Afterwards, when the
wreckage of war came in on a purple wave, they did good
service — the noblest service, as only women can. The
others did what they could ; they might, at any rate,
comfort the more romantically wounded with their
womanly charms. They tripped through the hospital
wards on the look-out for such casualties as did not
offend the aesthetic senses ; heroes with bandaged heads,
or one arm in a sling, were what they mostly sought.
And these they cured by laying'^on of hands. Cases
attended with blood and matter were left to the surgeon,
with his staff of selected assistants — the women who had
taken up the work for its own sake, and whose lot it was
to watch knives cutting into flesh, to hear the grate of
the saw upon shattered bones, to breathe the stench of
broken humanity, and feel the cries of helpless agony
that turns men into beasts. The little Professor worked
through it all, day and night, like a gentle apostle,
and about him, like a halo, the white-clad circle of his
helpers.

• • • • • • •

The two who had satisfactorily endured the ordeal
by soap and water came out together. * Isn't he
splendid ? ' exclaimed the Jewess excitedly. * Did you
ever see such a man ? Unpolished — insolent — ^and yet,
Oh, mon Dieu, quHl est ravissant ! One could work for
hours under him, and never tire. There is something
fascinating about him — like the lash of a whip decked
with roses; like a vampire that sucks our blood before
even we can 'give him leave. Don't you feel the same ? *
'^Baroness Lisl frowned slightly. The morbid enthusi-
asm of the Jewess disgusted her, * I can't say I do,' she

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 101

replied. ' He is very rough in his manner, as you say,
and he is extremely clever. But I can't say I ever found
anything fascinating in the lash of a whip, or a vampire
either — ^whatever that may be.'

' My dear Baroness, you don't suppose I meant it
literally.' The Jewess gave a little satisfied laugh, and
swayed her body sensuously from the hips. ' But he is
a man one cannot get away from — at least, so I find.'

* I wish you joy of him, I 'm sure. As far as I 'm
concerned, he can be as vulgar as he likes, if he '11 only
send me to the front.'

' To— the— front ! To the hospitals ? My dear, for
a lady in our position, it is quite impossible.

* If I go, it will be possible,' said Lisl with dignity .j

' But consider. You do not know. There are women
of all sorts out there — ^women, you know — ^well, quite
outside all decent society. And then the accommoda-
tion— I am told they often have to sleep in the same
room with the doctors. In the same room ! And no
comfort or conveniences of any sort. Unbearable I
One frock, and a change of linen, and that is all. And
what they have to go through . . . really, for one of
us — impossible 1 '

* Anyhow, I am going. And the spider creature can
say what he likes.'

'Spider? Who?'

' Vampire, then, or whatever you call him. I can't
stay here like this any longer.'

* Poor dear — I understand. But even if you do, I 'm
afraid there 's very little chance of your finding your
husband. I mean, of course, I hope you won't find him
at all, in that way. So what is the use of going off on
such an escapade ? '

Lisl did not answer. In her heart she felt that the
other was right. It was a mad idea. How was she to
find him in that endless chaos ? Still — once at the front,
no matter where, she would feel somehow nearer. And
if — if he should be wounded, it would be easier to get
to him. Her delicate eyebrows drew together in a

lOS CAPTAIN ZILLNEft

resolute firmness. She must — she would. Outside the
University the two women took leave of each other.
The Jewess walked up the steps a little awkwardly — her
voluminous bulk found steps a little trying.

* Our new hospital, you know. I am endowing two
wards — sixty beds.'

Baroness Lisl watched the climbing figure with some-
thing of envy. How much easier life was for her 1 Cast-
ing her affection upon one man or another as the fancy
took her, busied with charities, and eternally satisfied
with the sense of her own importance, she had no single
passion that absorbed her whole life and thought, and
made all other things seem trifles. She had not to
suffer every hour at the thought of what might happen
to another. No lover whom it would be as death to
lose. . . . Yet after all, was she not rather to be pitied
for that very lack ? How empty her life must be, with
its futile dreams of some morbid ideal. She had no real
friend, no one cared to help her if they could ; she was
a poor ridiculous creature, and dreadful to look at.
Something she must have to keep her womanhood from
withering to nothing — and so she drifted from one pas-
sion to another, from one self-imposed unnecessary task
to the next. Always enthusiastic about something, and
always appearing ridiculous in the eyes of others. ' Poor
thing I ' thought Lisl. After all, better to have given all
one's heart to one, as she herself had done.

Where could he be now ? Lisl fell to dreaming as
she walked through the drowsy streets, down the Ring-
strasse, where the dust hung like a grey frost on the sun-
scorched planes. She walked through the park, where
tired workers sat nodding on the seats — and all the while
she was thinking : Where is he ? It was a week since
she had received his last card ; only a few lines to say
they had crossed the frontier. Moritzerl I She could see
him now . . . could hear his kindly drawl ... if only
he were to come round the comer now, there by the rose-
bushes— and she could run to meet him, as in the old
days, no more than that — it would be far more wonderful

CAPTAIN ZILLNER lOfi

now. To be held in his arms again . . . she flushed at
the thought. Moritzerl I . . . Did he still care for her ?
' Loves me, loves me not. . . .' With the impulse of a
school-girl she bent down to look for a daisy in the grass
at the edge of the path, but there was none. Did he
think of her still ? And suddenly she felt an overwhelm-
ing sense of loneliness ; felt herself so forsaken and miser-
able that she could have crept in among the bushes to
sit down and cry. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and
slipped between her trembling lips. If any one were to
see her 1 And perhaps, after all, he did not think about
her so much now. Hastily she dabbed the tears away
and glanced round ; there was no one in sight. The
clock in the Rathhaus tower struck one. Perhaps he did
not think so much about her now ... he could not, of
course. He was riding about and killing people I Had
Pelzl remembered his promise, she wondered, that
evening at the Grabencafe, and kept her Moritz out of
danger ? Oh, Heaven, how dreadful it all was, dreadful,
dreadful I If ... if he should. . . . No, no, dear Gk)d,
not that, anything but that. Better to die herself at
once. With a sudden twitch she broke off a little sprig
from a bush — a parched up little twig of lilac. No, it
could not be. Not that. She loved him so — it could not
come to that. Seven warlike centuries had seen many
ladies of ICrottenburg walking thus alone, and thinking
the same thoughts. Yet many of them had been
widowed young. But none had ever married again.
For it was the way of those men to love their women and
hold them fast, even beyond the grave.

Baroness Lisl's pretty head was in a whirl as she took
her way home. One thought clung round her like rich,
dark-red roses : I love him. I love him. And one
pierced her heart as with thorns : Does he still think of
me ? And one seemed reachmg out from a great depth
to grasp with clammy hands at her throat : if he should
fall. . . .

Men and women passed her as she walked, and seemed

104 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

to vanish in a mist. Many turned to look at her, but
she did not see. With hard, strained eyes she fought
her way through the thorny waste of her distress, no
braver than any woman of the people. The war had
compassed many women's hearts about with those same
thorns of hope, fear, and despair, and each must fight
her own way through, be she princess or woman of the
slums, — unless she were of the fortunate few whose
husbands were in the volunteer motor corps, or on the
General Staff, or relegated to the lines of communication,
when, of course, the way was easier.

At the back of the Grecian temple set apart for phrase-
makers and political jugglers, where the people of Austria
in times of peace allowed their foolish and unscrupulous
representatives to mouth out proof of how incapable
they were of governing themselves — behind this splendid
edifice with its horse-breakers and quadrigse and bald-
headed Hellenic sages, stood a paper-boy, shouting out,
* Special extra ! Great battle at Lemberg, Special.'

'Here, boy.' Lisl tore the sheet, still damp from the
press, out of the boy's hand. Lemberg — ^his regiment
was there. Once more the passers-by stopped to look ;
here was a woman, evidently a great lady, reading the
news with a face so pale and drawn with pain as to
attract attention in the mechanical hurry of the streets.
There was little in the printed sheet to comfort a woman
whose heart was swelling with dread — the usual official
communication, with its customary lofty style, behind
which the augurs of a later time learned to discern the
more or less critical situation as it actually appeared.
Now at the first, these official exercises in prose compo-
sition were received in good faith and implicitly be-
lieved, albeit they left the reader very little wiser as
to the true state of things.

Lisl read : * Our troops maintained their position
generally. . . . The Twentieth Corps succeeded as a
whole in making its way forward to the line Swynski-
Potok. . . .' The evacuation of the capital, it appeared,
was a strategical manoeuvre involving no actual defeat.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 106

and should not be regarded as of any essential import-
ance. ' Heavy fighting at Rawa Ruska, where, on the
one hand . . . while on the other hand . . .' and so on.
This last formula was an indispensable ingredient in the
composition of the reports issued by the General Staff.

Lisl read on. All this was of little interest to her.
He was not there. * Heavy losses . . . ' And then at
the bottom of the page : ' North of Lemberg, the work
of reforming the lines was supported in a very essential
degree by the cavalry . . . fearlessly brilliant charge
. . . famous in history . . . undying laurels. . . .'

The hollow phrases danced before her eyes. The
printed letters flowed together in a whirling grey mist ;
there was a rushing in her ears like the sound of the sea
afar off. He ... he was there. . . .

By good fortune a cab was passing ; she hailed it, and
stepped in. ' Heidelberggasse 4.'

The cool air on her face as she drove brought her to
herself again ; the rushing in her ears had ceased. But
she felt her knees unsteady. ' I have grown dreadfully
nervous,' she thought to herself. ' Think if I had fallen
down in a faint.' If only she did not care for him so
very very dearly I . . . Once safely back in her lonely
house, she flung herself down on a sofa, feeling almost
too weak to move. A cavalry charge near Lemberg . . .
she would not think of it, she must do something . . .
but the haunting spirit followed her as she moved through
the rooms. More than her lonelmess and desolation —
fear, and an inexplicable horror seemed creeping out now
from every comer.

An inquisitive sunbeam slipped through the half-
drawn curtains on to the table where her husband's
gold and silver cigar-cases lay ; another played goldenly
about the mounts of his riding-whips hanging on the
wall. Baroness Lisl gave way, and broke into a storm
of weeping.

• ••••• •

Early next morning, at nine o'clock, she faced the
little Professor. He was frankly astonished.

166 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

* But you are very early, Baroness. We do not begin
till eleven. Or was there anything you wanted to
ask?'

' I want to be sent to a field hospital with the Fifth
Army, Professor. I must.'

The surgeon spread out his hands deprecatingly.

* Gently, gently, my dear Baroness. You are not look-
ing well at all to-day. Like an Emmenthaler cheese —
or rather, like Roquefort — that is to say, a sickly green.
You had much better . . .'

* You are very flattering. Professor, I 'm sure. But
do please be serious for a moment. I promise to have
cheeks as red as the reddest apple once I get there. And
you can manage it if you try, I know. A word from you,
and I shall be with my . . .' She broke off, blushing.

* And I shall be there. Dear Professor, you will help me,
won't you ? ' She smiled humbly down upon the little
man ; he seemed to feel uncomfortable.

' Well, really, you know . . . if it had been the other
one . . . she should have gone at once. She could
stand it — she had plenty of — er, strength — to draw upon.
But you. . . . Think what it means. Bad food, in-
sufficient sleep, and uncongenial companions. . . . And,
honestly, you do not look as if you could stand it.'

' Thank you,' put in Lisl hurriedly. ' You need not
tell me any more what I look like. Roquefort, wasn't
it?'

* I 'm not sure we ought not to say Gorgonzola. And
that is worse. But seriously — I don't think you could
stand it. Sleeping in badly ventilated rooms ... or
shifting about the country at a moment's notice ... in
a word . . ,' He paused, and then went on earnestly :

* I shouldn't like to think of you in all that mess. The
other one could stand it better. She 's more — well,
more robust, let us say.'

Lisl could not help laughing. ' You are not very
kind to " the other one," as you call her. And she 's
madly in love with you, you know.'

* The devil I ' The Professor was positively startled.

CAPTAIN ZlLLNER lOt

* Well, I can't help it if she is.' He shrugged his
shoulders. Then looking sternly at Lisl, he went on :

* It is madness for you to think of going to the front.
And I do not think it would be pleasant for you after all
to find your husband there. Still, since you are evi-
dently determined to worry me until you do go ' — his
hard mouth curved to a smile — ' there is a hospital
train leaving to-morrow, with a detachment of the Order
of the Holy Grail. I might perhaps. . . .' — a well-
spring of joy bubbled up in Lisl's heart — ' I might
perhaps write to Lieutenant Count Saarfeld, and ask
him to take you along.'

' Mucki Saarfeld ? But what has he to do with the
hospital trains ? '

' Oh, he is in charge. Permanently, I understand.
His crusading ancestors would hardly have cared for
such work at such a time, but — well, tempora mutantur —
et cetera.''

* Mucki I Well, anyhow, that will be company.'
' Then you really intend to go ? '

' Of course I do. And thank you, thank you so much,
dear Professor.' Lisl pressed the little surgeon's hand
warmly.

' You must come back soon, you know.' The eyes
behind the glittering spectacles rested in a long glance
on the slight figure. Lisl's cheeks had already gained
a touch of colour. ' Come back soon, and don't bring
your husband to me. He won't be a serious case, you
know — a scratch on the little finger at the outside — and
you won't need me for that. Good-bye.' He had
spoken with such unaccustomed kindhness that Lisl
looked at him in surprise. And suddenly, before he
could prevent it, she pressed a little kiss on his ruddy
forehead.

* That 's for the prescription, doctor,' she cried, with a
little happy gleam of mischief in her eyes. It was the
same little imp that had lurked there in the old days,
when many men had lost their hearts to the gay little
Countess Erwangen. To-day it was shy, it is true, and

108 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

ready to take to flight^again into the brown depths if the
bat -winged spirit of fear should come again.

The Professor rubbed his forehead with a smile, and
settled his glasses on his nose. ' I shall charge it on the
bill. Baroness, as causing serious disturbance during
consultation.'

■ ••••••

Baroness Lisl rang for her maid. * I 'm going to the
front, Marie.' The middle-aged woman, who had
attended her with discreet correctness hitherto, per-
mitted her features to express surprise.

' And which trunks will Frau Baronin wish to have
packed ? ' r •

* The little handbag, Marie, that is all.' ? r> W;' - - '
' But ' — the maid opened her eyes wide — ' the little

handbag — it will not hold one dress.'

' I shall wear my grey walking dress. Pack a little
linen — that is all I shall want.'

' But the travelling case — the toilet sets. . . .'

* Soap box and toothbrush, and my thick lace shoes.'
' And no more. Frau Baronin — surely . . .'

' Never mind ; do as I say, Marie. I am not going to
stay at hotels, but as a hospital nurse, at the front.'

' Du lieber Gott.^ . . . The woman looked aghast at
her mistress. ' And I am not to go at all ? '

' You will stay and look after the house, Marie.'

' Oh, but how is it possible ? Who is to dress the
Frau Baronin ... to arrange the hair. ... It will be
terrible.'

But Marie protested in vain. The little handbag was
packed, and nothing more. Baroness Lisl fastened the
black and white cap of a nurse over the dark hair, and
drove to the station, leaving her faithful helper in matters
of less earnest import to weep alone.

J.' • • • • • •

The fine brand-new hospital train of the Order of the
Holy Grairstood ready for departure by the platform.
A tall ofi&cer of Uhlans was marching up and down like
a pendulum.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 109

* How do you do, Graf Mucki. Here I am, if you
please, with all my goods and chattels.*

The over tall and over slender young man seemed to
double up as he bent over the hand of his old acquaint-
ance. ' Delighted to see you, dear Baroness.' He
glanced at the miniature travelling bag. * That really
all your luggage ? Haha ! ' Then, with a certain nasal
dignity of tone, as if receiving a deputation : ' It is indeed
gratifying to see ladies from our own circle taking an
active part in the noble task of healing the wounds in-
flicted by the war . . . their delicate touch will go far
to assuage — ah, to assuage . . . ahem.'

* My dear Mucki, for Heaven's sake ! — Where did you
get all that newspaper nonsense ? Is it part of your
service equipment ? '

The lanky one regarded her with serious eyes. * You
did not allow me to finish, Baroness. I speak officially,
you understand. Let me see, where was I ? Oh, yes —
assuage — assuage the sufferings of our wounded heroes.
May you ever find a true joy in the work which you
have so nobly undertaken — and the Blessing of the All-
Highest further your endeavours. — Rather neat, don't
you think ? '

* Very, I 'm sure. And do you often have to talk like
that ? '

* A good deal. I 've got up four little speeches : one
for nurses, one for doctors, one for veteran clubs, and
one for local committees. All different, of course.
Only the finish the same : Blessing of the All-Highest.
Makes an impression, you know, and people seem to
like it.'

* They do,' assented Lisl, thinking with some appre-
hension of the long journey before her. Graf Mucki
would, she foresaw, be intolerable. She decided to have
a headache as soon as she conveniently could.

The overgrown Uhlan rattled on. ' What do you
think of my train ? Looks nice, doesn't it ? Makes you
almost want to be a patient. Like me to show you
round ? '

110 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

They walked through the great cars, that still smelt of
varnish. The cots were arranged in tiers, one above the
other. There was a transportable operating room, and
a separate kitchen car. Everything was in the neatest
order, a model of practical convenience, and shiningly
new.

* Here are my quarters. The medicine man lives next
door, down at the other end ; a plebeian sort of chap,
with a beard, and dirty cuffs. Nobody else on the train
that counts, except you and myself. There are some
nurses joining up at Krakau, but I believe they are
hardly people one would care to know. Very chic, isn't
it?'

' I must get rid of him soon,' thought Lisl to herself.
They were seated in opposite corners as the train glided
out of the station, moving easily on its soft springs.
Graf Mucki sat up. ' Ah ! And now we are alone.
Baroness — ^what do you say to a cigarette ? ' He took
out his gold case and offered it with an air.

Lisl shook her head. ' I feel my wretched headache
coming on,' she said. ' But tell me, Graf Mucki, how
is it that you are here so far from the front, among
doctors and nurses ? Why are you not with your
regiment ? '

The young man's prominent blue eyes seemed to con-
tract a little.

' Oh, my health, you know. Couldn't stand it.'

' But you 're quite well, aren't you ? '

' Well, no, not quite. Can't sit a horse — strained a
sinew somewhere or other. So what could I do ? They
put me on to this, and here I am.'

Lisl was raging inwardly. Here was this creature
travelling about in ease and comfort, far away from any
front, while her husband was riding into battle. If only
he could have been here instead ! Why could not he
have strained a sinew — ' somewhere or other.' But in
her heart she knew it was impossible. He would never
have stayed behind. There had never been a Krotten-
burg who stayed behind with the baggage and the sick

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 111

in time of war. Ill they might be, even at the point of
death, but they had always been in the fore/ront of
things, amid the clashing of arms, not in the rear among
the women. She thought of that Eberhard Kjotten-
burg of whom Moritz had told her one day. Before the
battle of Liitzen, he had lain in a burning fever. But
when the attack commenced, he had bidden his men lift
him to his saddle, and had ridden straight into the forest
of lances like the manly, untiring soldier that he was.
Not until after would he let them carry him to the rear,
and he had died the next day. No — no Krottenburg
could stay behind. She knew it, and the knowledge
spread like a black veil over her hopes and dreams. But
she could not help a shy, secret feeling of pride. One
of those men was hers — her husband !

' And so you follow the war from a hospital train,
Graf Mucki ? '

' Yes, they must have some one, you know, to repre-
sent and all that. That 's where we come in.'

' But couldn't the doctors do that just as well ? '

* The doctors ? My dear Baroness, how can you think
of such a thing ? Who cares for a doctor ? He 's no
authority, no distinction, nothing to command respect.
No, it is we who must look after that part of the work.
Wait till we get these Red Cross Committees turning up
at the stations ; you shall see how I make them answer
to the rein.'

But Lisl had had enough for the present. ' I 'm
afraid I must rest a little, Graf Mucki. My head 's so
bad, and it makes it worse if I talk too much.'

The overgrown one took the hint. ' Really fright-
fully sorry. Baroness. Should so have liked a little chat
with you. Hope you '11 feel better soon.'

He rose, doubled up as he touched her hand, and went
out. In the doorway he turned. ' Like me to fetch
the doctor along ? '

* No, thanks very much. It '11 pass off in a little if I
just keep quiet.'

She stretched herself on the plush-covered seat and

112 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

tried to sleep. But sleep would not come. As soon as
she closed her eyes, the nameless fear, the paralysing
terror of something about to happen came creeping out
from every corner. In vain she tried again and again
to persuade herself that nothing had happened as yet.
She would, at any rate, see him again soon, unharmed,
or at the worst with only a slight wound. But in spite
of all, she could not master her fear. There was yet
another possibility — one that she simply dared not face.
She could bear up bravely enough at times under the
thought of his being wounded, but that other thing was
more than she could endure. And what use to bear up
bravely, when the same dreadful thought always came
at the end, and forced her to break down after all. If
only he were with her once more ! She settled herself
in a comer by the window, and watched the dull flat
landscape drawing past behind the hurrying telegraph
poles. She fell to counting them — one, two, three, four
. . . and then, her weariness aiding, at the hundred and
thirteenth, she leaned back against the cushions and slept.

At Oderberg she awoke, and went out into the corri-
dor. The sidings were packed with cattle trucks, and
soldiers looked out from the sliding doors. All the men
were bandaged somewhere ; chiefly arm, foot, or head.
It was a convoy of wounded. Ladies and gentlemen
with the Red Cross badge on their left arms hurried about
between the waggons, handing up refreshments to the
men — sandwiches, lemonade, sausages, chocolate, and
cigarettes. The soldiers laughed and jested, all appa-
rently in the best of spirits.

Baroness Lisl was agreeably surprised. These men
had come from the front, and they could still laugh ?
They looked well enough, too. All those horrors which
the Professor had described when talking to his pupils,
where were they ? Surely it could not be as bad as he
had said. Perhaps he had invented every word of it
to frighten them. And there stood Graf Mucki, looking
like a staff ofiicer of the Salvation Army, surrounded by

CAPTAIN ZILLNER lid

a crowd of women and girls, all listening reverently to
his ' little speech ' No. 4 — the one for the local com-
mittees. Lisl looked down the train as far as she could
see, noting the smiling faces of the men as they munched
and smoked. Suppose there were men of the Haugwitz
Dragoons among them. But these were only infantry,
men of the Jager Corps, and the Landwehr, with the
trappings of many different regiments. She left her
carriage, and went down along the line beside the train
of wounded. In the fifth truck she caught sight of a
man in the familiar orange and blue. A wave of hot
blood surged through her. His regiment I They had
. . . Oh, Heavens, they had been there after all 1 The
man had a bandage round his head, and his left hand was
tied up. She called up to him : ' I beg your pardon : do
you happen to know Lieutenant Baron Krottenburg ? '

' Yes, miss, I know him right enough.'

' Is he wounded ? '

' Can't say. I got knocked out at the start, and didn't
see what happened to the rest.'

' Where was he, then ? '

' Number Five squadron. On the left, they were,
when we charged.'

Lisl felt as if she must faint, and controlled herself
with an effort. Here, in front of all the soldiers — and she
a Krottenburg 1 No ! She grasped the handle of the
sliding door, and asked calmly :

' Was it a very hard fight ? '

' Well, I should say so. Charging guns is no joke.
There can't be many of us left. But you 're some rela-
tion, maybe ? '

' Yes.'

' Well, I dare say he may have pulled through all right,
with luck,' said the man, with rough sympathy.

' Thank you very much.'

Lisl staggered back to her carriage, and managed with
an effort to clamber up the steps. Her knees were
sinking under her. She sank down in her comer by the
window, and stared out into the twilight. And all

114 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

through that night the same thought beat incessantly
through her brain. He had been ini,the^battle after
aUl

Next morning they arrived at Krakau, and four
nurses boarded the train, chattering noisily in Polish.
They were full-breasted women, strong and healthy,
but not very refined. Graf Mucki showed them into a
compartment by themselves. Then he came in to Lisl
with the astounding news that the train proceeded no
farther than Tarnow, a couple of hours' run from Krakau.
Their destination was properly Grodek. Beyond Tar-
now the line was no longer safe. ' Epatant — astound-
ing, really I When our armies are still in Lemberg . . .'

* I suppose they are not there now,' said Lisl wearily.

* Really, an awful nuisance, you know. And I had
got up a first-rate little speech for Grodek. "We were to
have filled up there with wounded, you know.'

' But you can make a speech in Tarnow just as well.'

* Oh yes, of course. Only there was one bit about
the ancient knightly order sending angels of mercy to the
heart of the land, and about the stricken heroes of the
victorious field. Tarnow isn't the heart of the country,
you know, being just on the frontier, and I suppose it
won't do to talk about a victorious field. Have to alter
the whole thing.'

* I see. Tell me, though, are there any field hospitals
at Tarnow ? '

* Oh yes, must be.'

Lisl had made her plans. As soon as they a,rrived at
Tarnow, she would get hold of a car, and drive round to
all the hospitals. If she did not find him in any of them
-^-oh, if only he might not be there — she would drive to
the headquarters of the corps, and ask and ask until she
knew for certain. Yes, tliat was the best way. But
things turned out otherwise.

The railway station in the filthy little Jewish town
was crowded to overflowing. There were long rows of
stretchers m the waiting rooms ; even in the goods sheds

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 115

and the ofl&ces. Slightly wounded men hobbled about
in the confusion among a crowd of peasants and towns-
folk with sacks and bundles of every description. These
were the fugitives, driven from their farms and cottages,
their businesses and homes ; the washed-up wreckage of
the war. They stumbled over one another in a frightened
mob, wandered hither and thither aimlessly, or sat
staring hopelessly before them. Many of them carried
their whole worldly goods on their backs, women held
their terrified children by the hand. And in all these
wearied, tortured faces glowed a helpless anger against
the horror that had made them homeless. Their throats
were swollen with a single cry — a cry of vengeance
against the shameful crime of war, that had robbed
them of their homesteads and trampled down the ground
they had tilled. The curse of the weak and innocent
upon those who had brought this to pass I So they
stood, huddled together like frightened beasts, waiting
for the train to carry them westward into safety.

Into this scene of misery the hospital train drove up,
a thing loftily imperturbable, with its red cross on the
gleaming sides of the carriages. Graf Mucki jumped out
and made his little speech No. 1, to the regimental surgeon
in charge of the sick convoy. He introduced the doctor
to Baroness Lisl — ' a new volunteer nurse, who is looking
for her husband in one of the field hospitals.'

The doctor politely told her all he could. His convoy
was the last that had come through up to now, bringing
such of the wounded as could be moved to the interior.
All the field hospitals of the Fifth Army had been evacu-
ated save one, which was at a village close by. All the
bad cases were taken there. Lieutenant Baron Krotten-
burg would certainly be there, if he were among the
woimded who had been brought in. And Baroness
Lisl could, if she wished, commence work there.

Lisl thanked him. ' I think I '11 drive out at once.'

The two men helped her up into a little peasant cart
without springs — ^there was no other vehicle to be had.
As for a motor car, to think of such a thing in Tamow

116 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

would be ridiculous. The doctor promised to telephone
word of her coming

* Good-bye, and thanks so much, (xood-bye.*

The overgrown Uhlan doubled up for the last time
over her hand. ' Good-bye, Baroness, and good luck.
Kindest regards to Moritz. I 'm only sorry you 're not
staying with us.'

The cart rattled off. Speed was out of the question,
for the way was blocked by endless transport columns
with wretchedly emaciated horses. The animals were
mere spectres, so thin that one could almost see through
them as they toiled along in the thick dust of the road.
The worst of them were led by filthy, ragged troopers,
who staggered along at their heads. And in the ditches
by the roadside lay the bodies of the poor beasts who had
died in harness, swollen corpses with stiff legs sticking up
towards the sky, like milestones on the road of death.

The villages on the lines of communication were not
so bad. There were numbers of officers strolling about,
their well-groomed appearance in pleasant contrast to
the dirt and ugliness around. Carpet soldiers ! One or
two of them, she noticed, wore patent leather boots, and
some were talking of improvising a racecourse in the
neighbourhood. Every village had its share of these
pleasant surprises. And as she drove through, the neatly
shaved and carefully dressed dandies would stop and
cast interested glances at the pretty nurse — exactly as
on the promenade in Kamtnerstrasse, thought Lisl.

It was evening when the cart drew up before the village
school, now doing duty as a hospital. Lisl felt the blood
hammering at her temples. If only she might find him
here 1 She ran up the steps, mentioned her name to the
corporal on duty, and told her errand.

' I beUeve so,' answered the man in answer to her
inquiry. * I will get the list.' He fetched a register, and
began turning over the leaves. ' Here — Krottenburg,
Moritz Freiherr von. A noble, yes. Second floor,
number 14.

* Show me up, if you please.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 117

Half-way up a sudden dizziness seized her ; she had to
grasp at the stair rail for support. The corporal was at
her side in a moment, and offered his arm.

' Thanks, thanks. I can manage now.' Lisl bit her
lip.

This ridiculous weakness ! And she would need all
her strength. . . . The corporal offered to fetch some
water, but she declined, and with an effort pulled her-
self together. Then, like a queen, with lifted forehead,
she walked the last steps of the hardest road she had ever
yet had to tread.

' Number 14 — ^here it is.'

Once more she felt as though a brutal hand had struck
at the sinews of her knees. Then ... a dimly lighted
room, with two rows of beds ; a sickly sweetish smell
. . . she glanced anxiously around, and there — there in
the corner I . . .'

Lisl fell on her knees beside the bed, holding his hand,
kissing and kissing it again and again. ' My . . . my
. . . my husband ! O Moritzerl, thank God, thank
God I'

* There, there ; nothing to cry for, my girl,' said
Moritz, in his drawling voice — ^his voice the same as
ever. . . .

CHAPTER VIII

It was on the verge of autumn. A brilliant sunlight lay
like cool gold over the land. The swallows gathered in
twittering flocks on their way to the southward, and white
gossamer threads hung in the air. The last days of that
red summer were bright and lustrous as the first had
been. Save for the cool of the mornings and the cold
at night, the lengthening twilight and the growing
shadows, the year might have seemed at a standstill.
The war had spread itself over the harassed land, as if
resting at ease for a space. The guns were silent ; even
the garrulous rifles had ceased to speak. The fighting
now was in the west and north. In the forest lands,
where there were larger villages and richer towns, the
spirit of strife could better slake its thirst for blood.
There was virgin soil there, fresh and abundant. Still,
the war only looked forth drowsily, and made no move ;
as if still heavy with the fumes of that last August feast.
And the spirit seemed to gasp : Rest, rest a while, and
sleep off the heaviness in the many-coloured glory of the
autumn days. Then to the feasting anew, to richer
draughts of blood grown stronger for the respite. So
the war paused, looking out towards the west and north.

Re-establishment — an ugly word, of the same hypo-
critical ring as that other evasion : Re-formation. The
Austrian forces, painfully retracing their steps, had
reached the river that winds from north to south,
separating the western territory, not yet invaded, from
the middle lands. A river bend, if otherwise suitable
for defence, is seized upon by strategists ; it was here
that the armies j^finally halted and offered a resolute
front to the enemy. The Higher Command rained dowa

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 119

orders and instructions upon the jaded men. Entrench-
ments everywhere. The position to be made impreg-
nable. No giving way. Stand fast to the last man.

The men fell to work. For days and days the autumn
sun looked down on grey backs digging deeper and deeper
into the earth. Mound after mound was cut up into a
patchwork of trenches, in rear of which the bronze
mouths of the guns looked out from carefully chosen
positions, showing no more than gave them room to
speak. The Tiefenbachers were entrenched on a fine
ridge, the ground in front sloping gradually down with-
out a patch of cover for an attacking enemy. Not so
much as a kitten could approach unobserved. In rear
of the position lay a wood, and some sheltered hollows,
where the reserves could be safely posted, with plenty
of covered ways to the firing line. It was an ideal
position, and the Tiefenbachers ornamented it with
machine-guns, barbed wire, and mines. The sun
laughed down at it all in applause.

The young Colonel, upon whom the whole depended,
did not laugh. He tripped about from one point to
another, and had a way of throwing his cloak on the
ground when angry, and making a fuss generally.
Sometimes he would shout and rave ; at others, he would
adopt a reproachful tone, as of one most undeservedly
ill-used. The officer in charge of a pioneer detachment
had been instructed to build him a bomb-proof dug-out
with a covered way in front. The work had been done,
but not to the Colonel's satisfaction.

* My orders were, sir, I believe, to construct a bomb-
proof shelter with a roof one metre thick. The roof is
not one metre thick. I have measured it myself —
ninety -six centimetres. Surely, sir, it should be possible
for you to carry out my orders with something approach-
ing accuracy. No, no — do not trouble to explain. I
want no explanation, thank you.'

The sun looked down and smiled, recognising'an old
acquaintance. Colonel Peter Prapora — of course. Just
the same as in the old days, when he had sat in his office

120 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

writing the draft of a report with a Faber No. 8. The sun
remembered him well. There was one occasion in par-
ticular when he had been furious to the verge of despera-
tion. A new clerk had laid a Faber No. 1 in the place
reserved for Faber No. 3. And the red pencil was not
where it should have been, on the. left beside the ruler —
the fool had put it with the blue, behind the indiarubber.
And such was the rage of Colonel Prapora at those mis-
demeanours, that the sun had been constrained to with-
draw behind a cloud.

* Is that how you keep a place in order, you idiot ? ' he
had roared. ' If I have to speak to you once more, out
you go. You had better keep your wits about you for
the future. Get me a couple of sausages, and look sharp
about it. . . .'

Yes, the sun knew him well. How charmingly he
played the piano, and what a favourite he was with
the ladies, who found his handsome, appealing glance
irresistible. And he was in high favour with his
superiors, being essentially an adaptable creature, and
invariably holding the same opinion as those above him.
Hard lines on the Tiefenbachers, thought the sun. . . .

Zillner stood chatting with Captain Pfustermeyer a
little in rear of the trenches. In front, the men were
digging and digging in the loose soil. The breastworks
were already a metre thick.

' We could manage better without him, if you ask me,*
said Pfustermeyer. ' Why on earth couldn't they let
him stay at home in Vienna, and stick to his office stool 1
He 's no practical use here.'

Zillner's face wore an expression of hard-won resigna-
tion. * It isn't a question of practical utility,' he said.

* It 's just a question of rank. And nobody asks how a
man got his step, however plain the job may be.'

' You 're right. Oh, they 're a nice crowd our friends
in the bottle green.' Pfustermeyer snapped his fingers.

* A beautiful lot of neurasthenics. I 've seen something
of them in my time. All orders and instructions and

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 121

big words, as if the whole thing was a conjuring trick.
And what is the result ? The summer campaign . . .'

' Well, to give them their due, the odds were against
us there. We were desperately outnumbered from the
first.'

' Outnumbered — yes. But it needn't have landed us
in that infernal mess. Our fellows were good enough.
But what can they do when the bigwigs come down with
their little Kriegsspiel plans and their big stock phrases
— thinking they can win the war by out-of-date hand-
books. " Ride them down — Advance without delay —
Position to be held at any cost." It 's easy enough to say,
as long as you 've no heart, and not enough brain to see
the criminal folly of it all. They can't think in a straight
line.'

1^, * What do you mean by that ? '

. ' I mean that they think in curves and flourishes, and
seem to think the enemy is fool enough to play the same
game, just to please them. And when he doesn't, there
we are — and it 's we who have to pay for it.'

Zillner smiled. ' What a radical you 're getting,
Pfustermeyer.'

' It 's true, anyway. They 've no heart ; it doesn't
take long to find that out. I could forgive their putting
on side if they weren't such hopeless fools. For that 's
what they are. The Russians were three to one when
they ordered us to advance " without delay," and they
didn't even know it.'

Zillner made no answer, but his brow darkened. It
cut him to the heart, yet he was forced to admit that the
other was right. The bitter and merciless criticism of
their leaders pained him, yet he had not the strength to
speak in their defence. He would gladly have proved
his old comrade in the wrong ; have shown that circum-
stances had been against them all through, and that no
fault lay with those in command. But he did not dare.
He had seen too much in these last few weeks, had
realised too keenly the true state of things. He strove
to repress the thoughts that surged up in his mind ; his

122 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

soldierly spiiit rebelled against the admission, and the
conflict made him wretched. He had tried to thrust it
all aside, but in vain. He had the accursed gift of seeing
through to the heart of things, behind all superficial
gloss ; to perceive the merciless nakedness of truth which
others would not see. And it was undermining his
faith. That was the thing that tortured him most of all.
He hated the sceptic spirit which drove him constantly
to unmask, unveil ; he would gladly have surrendered
himself to a blind acceptance of what others were con-
tent to believe, and let his reason sleep. He was a
soldier, and it was the business of a soldier to obey, un-
questioningly, without criticism. He envied those who
could still act up to that ideal. But for himself it was
no longer possible. Something within him was always
asking, suggesting, doubting. . . .

He stood in silence, gazing thoughtfully before him,
Pfustermeyer laid a hand on his shoulder. * No good
worrying about it,' he said kindly. * There it is, and
we must make the best of it.'

But Zillner could contain himself no longer. ' No,'
he burst out with sudden passion. ' It is intolerable.
They cannot go on like this. It must be the end. They
have sacrificed thousands already ; sacrificed them to
the empty theories they learned at school. But it has
taught them a lesson. They will be more careful now.
It only needs a little thought, a little judgment — and
you will see, it will come.' His steel-grey eyes flashed
as he looked over towards the eastern horizon. * There
is the enemy — there is still time to beat him back. And
we shall do it. We must do it.'

* Heaven grant that we may,' said Pfustermeyer.
Behind them came the sound of a marching song ; a

detachment was moving up in rear of the position.

* Kaiserjager ! Let 's go and look,' said Pfustermeyer,
grasping Zillner's arm. A Jager regiment from one of
the neighbouring positions was marching by ; brown-
tanned peasant lads from the T)rrol, most of them tall
find heavily built, with pipes in their mouths. Here and

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 128

there the sHghter figure of a southerner appeared in
marked contrast to the rest. They swung past with an
easy, elastic step ; dirty grey figures, with rough beards
framing their sturdy, kindly faces. Many of them had
burnt holes in their tunics round the camp fires, and
there were not a few who showed sign of weariness or
disease. But they puffed away at their pipes, and sang
lustily as if glad to fancy themselves among their
native hills.

' Good luck to you, lads,' cried Pfustermeyer, as they
passed. ' We shall soon see what you chamois hunters
can do with another sort of game.'

' Ja, ja,^ they shouted back. ' We 're ready.' And
one black-bearded giant cried, ' Let them come, the
devils ! Let them come, and we '11 send them home on
crutches.' He grinned and pointed to his cloak, which
was decorated with Russian badges all round the side.

The spirit of mountain and forest seemed to animate
these men, bright, strong, and untroubled as birds in
song . . . With firm heavy steps they tramped along, a
compact mass of sinewy peasant lads, accepting their
task with a childlike faith, and puffing in imperturbable
good-humour at their pipes through stubbly-bearded
lips. A hunch of bread and a slice of meat to quiet their
stomachs were all they needed to keep them in fighting
trim. They were the same stock that had fought in
1808.

' Splendid fellows ! ' exclaimed Zillner. ' Nothing seems
to trouble them. And they have borne the brunt
of it all along. Wherever there was a dangerous gap
to be filled, it was they who were sent to fill it. All
through the retreat it was the same. They have been
terribly cut up. But they are still the same : splendid
men I With troops like that we could do anything, if
only . . .*

[^ / If only the army consisted of Kaiser jager, or only of
Germans, let us say, and if our diplomats weren't such
infernal asses, and our leaders. . , . What were you
going to say ? '

124 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

_ ' Pfustermeyer, you are guessing my thoughts to-day/
said Zillner, with a nervous laugh. * But I swear I only
think them against my will. It hurts me more than you
think. And, for Heaven's sake, don't go making it
worse yourself.'

Pfustermeyer looked at him in astonishment. ' I
don't see what you 've got to worry about. If it 's the
truth, why try to shirk it ? '

' Truth or not, I can't believe it. I v/on't believe it.
Once you do — ^w^ell, how can a man go on ? If I really
believed things were as you say, I should simply go to
pieces.' Zillner's voice was full of earnest appeal.

The other shrugged his shoulders. ' I ought to have
gone to pieces long ago, at that rate. But I haven't.
On the contrary, I find it a great deal more comfortable
to look things in the face.'

* You take things differently, I suppose. But with
me — I must do one thing or the other. Either believe
in it all unquestioningly like those Tyrolese lads, or . . .'

' Or what ? '

' Or give up. Go to pieces. That 's all.'

' Shouldn't do that if I were you,' said Pfustermeyer,
trying with kindly intent to make light of it. But a
glance at his friend's face showed him that it was deadly
earnest. So, laying a hand on his shoulder, he went on :
' You mustn't, you know.'

Major Blagorski was waiting for them up on the ridge.
He was not in the best of tempers. ' Gentlemen, I must
request you to attend to your work. This is not a
promenade, where you can walk about doing nothing.
You are expected to exercise a constant supervision.
The Colonel was here just now, and had several com-
plaints to make. One thing in particular — a man in
your company. Captain Zillner, has been guilty of a gross
breach of discipline, in speaking disrespectfully to his
commanding officer. Nechleba is his name.'

' Nechleba 1 Surely, sir, there must be some mistake.
He is one of my best men — ^a brave fellow, and a willing
worker,'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 125

* I must beg you not to take his part, if you please.
This man, it appears, was eating at his work, and when
the Colonel admonished him, he had the impudence to
say that he would eat while he worked if he pleased.
The Colonel has ordered him to be put under close arrest
for five days.'

* Very well, sir.'

' And then, gentlemen, really, I must request you '
— ^the old soldier turned his worn face from one to the
other appealingly — ' not to make matters more difficult
for me than they are. You understand the position —
we have a great deal of hardship to put up with, but
discipline must be maintained. The new Colonel. . . .
In a word, I trust we may work together as we have
done up to now. And here is another order.' The Major
read it aloud. ' " From the General Commanding.
The number of stragglers has of late greatly increased.
The strictest measures must be taken . . . put a stop
. . . prevent spreading further . . . fullest of their
powers." H'm. Fortunately, this hardly concerns us.
The regiment is practically free from that sort of things.
It is mostly the Ruthenians, and a lot of those swine
from the Czech regiments. Nevertheless, I must beg
you to maintain the strictest discipline. There will be
drilling in the afternoon, as usual. The Colonel par-
ticularly wishes the men to be exercised in the parade
march, saluting, and the manual. I must therefore
request you, gentlemen, to assist me in avoiding any
possible cause of complaint . ' One more appealing glance
from the anxious eyes, and the officers were dismissed.

* There you see,' whispered Pfustermeyer, with a wave
of the hand. ' Active service — ^parade march, saluting,
and the manual.'

' Bottle-green idiot,' exclaimed Zillner, and hurried
across to his section. ' Nechleba ! '

The grey-haired infantryman clambered up from his
trench. ' Zu Befehl, Herr Hawptmann ! '

' Insubordination — answering the Colonel — ^what on
earth possessed you, man ? You, a good soldier ... *

126 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

' Herr Hawptmann — ^please — I only said that I liked
to eat when I was at work. Not a word more.'

' You ought not to have said that. The Colonel has
given you five days close arrest. You understand ? '

* Herr Hawptmann — I beg pardon — I can't see
what . . .'

' That 's enough. Take your punishment like a man.
Corporal, put this man under arrest.'

The man was led away, murmuring as in a dream :
* Don't understand . . , what have I done. . . .' But
there was an undertone of anger in his voice.

And Zillner's tormenting spirit whispered: * These
are the creatures that are sent to take command of a
regiment in the field. No idea of anything outside office
work, utterly incapable of handling men. They would
ruin the best troops in the world.' In vain his soldierly
instinct strove to beat the whisper down ; it was there,
and would be heard.

Days came and went. Peaceful days, but laden with
busy hours of nervous haste. The position must be in
readiness before the enemy could come up. And it was
to be made impregnable. It meant working and work-
ing without pause or rest. Day and night the spades
rang on the stones, saws whined and axes rose and fell
unceasingly. Every copse and clump of trees in front
of the trenches was cut down, hundreds of bowed grey
figures might be seen dragging the trunks away bodily,
back to the lines, to shore up the trenches and bomb-
proof shelters. The long row of hills beside the river,
running in a graceful curve from south to north, had
become a model of defensive engineering. There was a
complete fortress, with breastworks, batteries, covered
ways, and communication trenches. Barbed wire en-
tanglements were spread out in front, pitfalls were dug
and filled with greedy points, and mines were laid in
readiness all about. Telephone wires stretched away
to the rear, where the former Brigadier sat like a spider
in his web, thoroughly in his element. He had been
promoted to the command of the Feldkirch Division,

CAPTAIN ZILLNER ISt

and sat now comfortably installed in a farmhouse await-
ing developments. As for the Russians, let them come.
He had only to press a button, and the guns would
thunder, the rifles spit and crackle. A word of command
shouted into the telephone receiver, and from all sides
came an obedient flow of detailed information. He
could sit there at the rear, in touch with it all. Affec-
tionately he passed his hand over the polished cases of
the microphones — the last word in modern methods of
command. There in front was the fist ready to strike,
and here was the brain, with a nerve thread between the
two. He rubbed his soft white hands in satisfaction.
It was a war of positions now — the only sensible way of
carrying on a campaign. In the open, with the armies
continually on the move, the enemy had a disconcerting
way of doing exactly the opposite of what one had hoped.
One had to advance, to expose oneself, and never really
knew how matters stood all the time. Always unex-
pected developments of some kind. Here, it was
different. One sat surrounded by the most complete
apparatus for givmg orders, every instrument neatly
labelled. The enemy had only to come, and then. . . .
But the enemy did not come. That was the weak point
in the whole thing. The enemy kept consistently a few
days' march away, merely sending a few light-armed
detachments of Cossacks out to keep in touch. Day
after day the patrols reported that there was no sign of
any infantry to be seen, far or near. Really, it was most
inconsiderate of them not to attack ; one had but to
press a button, and they would be crushed I

Evenings came and went. Pale evenings with a
sense of weariness. As the shadows fell, Zillner felt
himself drawn towards the dirty, toil-worn men in the
trenches. They sat cleaning their rifles, mending their
clothes, or hunting vermin in the draughty sheds of the
cantonments, burying the recollection of the day spent
in digging like moles. There they sat, chatting together,
smiling, and discussing the chances of peace. Others

128 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

were loafing about, or writing the regulation postcards
home. They were glad of the evening rest. The post
came regularly, with a breath of home air to one or
another — affectionate, helpless words from a mother ; or
passionate outpourings of love, a sacrifice of blood upon
the paper altar, full of longing and fire; or news of
wife and children. And the dirty hands touched the
scraps of paper reverently, and in front of the draughty
sheds men fell to dreaming sacred dreams. . . .

Zillner never liked to disturb his men as they sat there
occupied with their simple thoughts. But he would
often go over to them as they sat at meals — the best
hour of a soldier's day. There was a constant stream of
gifts from home, ' Liebesgahen,^ with cigars and sausages
and chocolate. The field kitchens also worked regularly
now in these peaceful days of the war ; twice a day, at
eleven in the morning and six in the afternoon, the
precious rations were served out. In the evening, when
the Tiefenbachers were drinking their sweetened tea, he
felt himself most welcome. He would go over to the
sheds, and sit down among the men, and get them to tell
of their adventures during the retreat, of comrades who
had fallen, or what they knew of others who were miss-
ing. They invariably asked him when the war would
be over. Would it be soon ? — ^would they be able to get
home in time for Christmas ? And Zillner laughed ; he
knew no more than they. He spoke to them of their
country, that was in peril and looked to them for aid.
And that was a sacred thing — holier than Christmas Eve.
And the men would stare at him then with wide eyes.
He spoke to them of their duty as soldiers, a duty be-
yond all thought of life and death. The enemy must be
driven out — that must come first of all. And the men
nodded — they had not really meant it, about wanting
to be home for Christmas. Even if they did not get
home in time they must drive him out. Their eyes grew
eager, and they clenched their grimy fists.

Zillner was happy at such times ; he felt his faith
once more glowing warmly within. There was no doubt

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 129

lurking in his soul, no dark presentiment to make him
desperate. They would win, after all. His heart clung
to these poor ignorant men ; only peasants and workers
from the depths, but they understood what was asked
of them. To such men, one must speak from the heart,
not in the snarling command of a superior officer.

There were but few of his colleagues who understood
this. They drove their men like a stupid flock of sullen
beasts ; only now and again would one of the junior
officers speak to them kindly and frankly — their
superiors never. The flowers of elaborate composition
which appeared in the pompous official orders were but
empty words, copied by dull brains from antiquated
official tradition. It sounded well, perhaps, to call the
men * Laiu-el-crowned heroes,' after they had been driven
with curses and abuse to slaughter. But the men
themselves could not live on that nauseating brew, and
felt no gratitude to those who offered it.

Those evenings, so full of honest life, were much to
Zillner. In the ' Palazzo,' a wretched hovel where he
and his three lieutenants had their quarters, there would
be supper waiting on his return. Prager, who had under-
taken the duties of mess steward and cook, proved a
wonderful acquisition. His general apathy entirely
disappeared when once he was relieved from his military
duties, and occupied in the composition of a menu. He
contrived to produce all sorts of delicacies in the peaceful
days in camp. There were Vienna pancakes, omelettes,
pastry, and even now and again wine.

And the four of them would sit round in a circle, each
occupied with his own affairs. Little Andrei hated the
inaction ; his young heart was greedy to be up and doing.
The man of law spent a great deal of time writing to
his sweetheart — or possibly there were several of them.
The Czech was not a companionable fellow ; he would
sit there in silence, almost as if lying in wait for something
the others might say or do. Often, when the Hungarian's
eagerness for action found vent in a burst of ardent.

130 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

stammering words, Zillner fancied he could see a smile
of delicate scorn glide over Spicka's face. But he gave
no grounds for complaint, and carried out his work
conscientiously. A nuisance, thought Zillner. He has
a bad influence on the men, and if he would only break
out in some way, I might get rid of him. But as it is . . .
The evenings passed quietly enough. The young men
dreamed their dreams, the Czech was busy with his own
dark thoughts, and Zillner' s mind seemed ever tunnelling
into the black wall of the future. If only he could come
out into the light again. Into the light ! . . .

One afternoon the first of the reinforcements came in.
The Tiefenbachers were glad to see them, for these war-
time recruits, with their new uniforms, brought a breath
of home into the camp. The new arrivals looked about
them with curious faces, that were still cleanly shaven ;
they came rattling bravely into the lines, men and kit
all beautifully clean.

* Look nice, don't they ? ' grunted one grey and mud-
stained spademan to his neighbour. ' Lice '11 be afraid
to touch them.'

* Not they,' answered the other. ' They '11 be just as
bad as the rest of us in a week.'

* Say a fortnight,' suggested the first speaker reluc-
tantly.

' A fortnight, then. It 's all the same.'

The two grey moles had knocked off work, for the half-
battalion was drawn up in front of His Majesty the
Colonel. The officer commanding saluted with his sword.
* I have the honour to report, sir. Honorary Major von
Rosselsprung, at your service, with 512 men. All
eager to be led against the foe. I have the honour to
place myself under your command.'

The Colonel stared, and the staff officers glanced at
each other. Who on earth was this extraordinary
Major von Rosselsprung, and what were they to do with
him?

' Don Quixote as a volunteer,' whispered Pfuster-

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 181

meyer. And indeed it might have been the Knight
of La Mancha himself, even to the lance, which a
bugler, standing behind him, held stiffly pointing up-
wards. Von Rosselsprung was standing in his stirrups, a
withered figure, with a fierce expression of countenance ;
like a weather-worn relief from some sepulchre of the
days of chivalry. Small beady eyes under heavy bushy
brows, and a high, sharp ridge of nose between ; a thin
little moustache, dyed black, stuck up aggressively above
the withered mouth. A telescope and a prismatic bin-
ocular were slung crosswise across his chest, in addi-
tion to which he wore a compass, a big vacuum flask,
and a small signal horn such as are used by the guards
of continental trains. At every movement, the various
articles of equipment set up a cheerful rattle and creak.

* Perambulating arsenal,' whispered Pfustermeyer,
with a grin.

The heavy -armed warrior had lowered his sabre, and
now proceeded : ' If you wish it. Colonel, my men can
be allotted to their positions at once. We are all burn-
ing to . . .'

' Thanks, thanks. If you would kindly bring up the
rear company in line with the first. I have a few words
to say to the men.'

* Very well, sir.' Don Quixote made some mysterious
gestures with his sword towards the rear, but no one
moved. Finding himself constrained to issue his com-
mands by word of mouth, he called out hoarsely, ' Cap-
tain Crlenjak — Captain Crlenjak ! Bring your company
— this way.'

A little mannikin on a fat but willing little horse
extricated himself with some difficulty from the column,
waved his arms about, and shouted what was apparently
an order, though not to be found in any drill book. The
spectators looked on interestedly at the exhibition that
followed. ' Hi, you fellows — ^you at the back there —
move up a little. No, this way, up behind me. That's
it. Now straight on. No, you idiots — ^yes, that's
the way. Keep your dressing, can't you ? Up in a

182 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

straight line. That 's better.* By dint of such exhorta-
tion he managed to bring up his men into line with
the rest. Then excitedly, * That '11 do. Stop I Halt I *
And the manoeuvre was completed.

Captain Crlenjak was a man about sixty, with a short,
bristly moustache, and a dry, shrivelled face, that wore
an expression of extreme embarrassment.

The Colonel looked the man over for a moment, and
cleared his throat. * Soldiers,' he began, * I bid you
heartily welcome, as — as defenders o^ our beloved
country. Many of your comrades are no more. . . .'
His voice broke at this, and he gulped out anew, * Are
no more,' with intense emotion. The eyes of the
Adjutant behind him were watering already. ' Soldiers,
you will do your duty. I know it. And I trust you to
the full . . . Pig I How dare you stand picking your nose,
while I am speaking ? By Heaven, picking his nose I . . .
Do you want to stand with your hands tied behind you,
you swine ? . . . And in a word, I bid you welcome,
and call to mind the ancient motto of the regiment :
*' Allzeyt fuer des Reiches Herrlichkeyty '

* That is the sort of thing that goes to one's heart,'
whispered Pfustermeyer to Zillner.

* And now, dismiss. The Adjutant will tell off the
men.'

The Colonel marched up and down, with rapid steps,
his hands behind his back. Then he called up the staff
and the company commanders.

* How long have you been on the retired list, Major ? '

* Fifteen years, sir,' said the martial one, ' but I
assure you . . .'

* Really, now, really. And you, er — Captain . . .*
' Captain Crlenjak, sir, at your service. Twenty.'

* H'm. Yes. Very well, then. Major — the second
battalion, if you please, and Captain Crlenjak the
first.'

Major Blagorski saluted. * Company Three is vacant,
sir.'

* Very well, that will do. Thank you, gentlemen.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER ISd

And the Colonel walked off, his head bent, and his hands
clasped behind his back.

The man of war clapped his heels together with a
rattle of spurs, and introduced himself to his brother
ofl&cers : ' Von Rosselsprung.' Then, sniffing like a
trained hound at scent, he swung his head in the direc-
tion of the trenches, and barked out : * First-rate
position — excellent. And when are we to . . .*

* Oh, we 're ready enough,' said Pfustermeyer. ' But
the other party isn't, it seems.'

* Not ready ? You will see, gentlemen, in two days
from now — in two days, I say, we shall have him by the
throat. I remember at Maglaj, in '78, precisely the same
thing happened. I was standing smoking a cigarette,
and thinking of my wife — fine woman she was in those
days, splendid woman — and then suddenly — Pst I Gone.*

* Never trust a woman,' said Pfustermeyer senten-
tiously.

' Eh ? What ? The cigarette, I mean. Some
measly vagabond of a Bosnian insurgent shot it clean
out of my mouth. And, would you believe it, the
fellow . . .'

* Wait a bit. I have an idea,' broke in Pfustermeyer.
* You can tell the story better sitting down. What do
you say to a little something extra this evening — in
honour of our new comrade in arms ? I 've some claret
that 's not half bad — a little I managed to smuggle into
this temperance hotel — never mind how.'

* Bravo, comrade I I 'm with you,' croaked out Don
Quixote.

* Bravo I ' echoed the mannikin. * Very happy, I 'm
sure.'

* Very well then, you are hereby invited. At my
quarters, at eight o'clock. An omelette, a hunch of
sausage, with a cockroach or so by way of desert. At
eight then, all of us.' And the heavyweight captain
lounged off to make his preparations.

• «•••••

It was a pleasant little feast. Pfustcrmeyer's jovial

184 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

spirits seemed to shed light and warmth over the rough
quarters, and infected even the taciturn Grill, whose face
lit now and again with an affable smile. The Voslauer
sparkled in the glasses, and spread a cheerful glow through
the veins. A touch of colour appeared in the sallow
cheeks of the new Major, and his beady eyes twinkled.
... * Yes, gentlemen, at Maglaj — and at Doboj, even
worse — only a double woollen belt saved me from death.
It was like this. I was in the thick of the scrimmage —
it was hand-to-hand fighting then. And suddenly a
big Turk shouts out '' Allahi T' And on the "hi"—
Huit ! — he lunged out, thinking to slit up my stomach
with his yataghan. But you can see for yourselves — not
a scratch. It was the woollen belt that saved me. Two
layers, extra thick — a, presient from my wife. A fine
woman she was in those days I And it warded off the
cut, and here I am. Since then, I sleep in my clothes
when I 'm on active service. You never know.'

' It 's perfectly true,' whispered Crlenjak in Zillner's
ear. ' He sleeps in his clothes every night. Even at
Krakau, the first night we arrived. And we were safe
enough there. But he does . . . I don't know . .'.'

* Ajid the great lance. Major, the bugler was carrying
to-day — a. trophy, no doubt, from one of your recent
engagements ? ' Grill asked the question with a de-
ceptively innocent air.

' Oh, that ? Yes, a genuine Cossack lance. That is
to say, it might have been. But, to tell the truth, it
belonged to a Honved ^ hussar.*

' Honved — Hungarians ? '

' Yes, it was like this. We were riding up a little
rise, reconnoitring, you understand. Then suddenly I
caught sight of a troop of horsemen, armed with lances.
Aha, thought I, now we 've got them ! I got the bat-
talion under cover, waiting for them to come up. And
was just about to give the word — ^and then I saw who
they were.'

* It 's perfectly true,' whispered the mannikin again.

^ i?out;e(2 = Huuganau militia.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 135

* He was just going to fire on them. ... I don't know
what he was thinking of. . . .'

The others laughed, but with some embarrassment.
The fire-eating veteran proceeded to explain the en-
counter with the Honved to Major Blagorski, and, as he
talked, the resemblance to Don Quixote was apparent
to all. It was fortunate that he had got hold of a Sancho
Panza in the person of his adjutant. Captain Jovo
Crlenjak would no doubt manage to keep him out of
serious mischief. Still . . .

Zillner glanced at Grill, and noticed that he was staring
at the hero with intense disgust. The little captain was
absorbed in his own meditations.

' How came they to send you to the front again after
all that time ? ' asked Zillner sympathetically, turning to
the worn little mannikin. ' Twenty years, I think you
said ? '

Crlenjak shrugged his shoulders. ' Oh, well, I volun-
teered, of course, in a way. We were asked to, you know.
And so . . . you understand. I said to myself : "Jovo,
you 've been struck off once as unfit for further service,
even with the Landwehr — they can only put you on lines
of communication, at the worst. And then, all of a
sudden, I don't know . . .'

' Extraordinary ! Are you fit — otherwise, I mean ? '

' No, I can't say I am. Gout. In wet weather I can
hardly walk a step. I don't know how. ... It 's the
same with the Major himself.'

* And you find it strange, I dare say, after twenty
years ? Things must have changed a good deal.'

• ' Yes, of course. The drill 's all different. I don't
even know the words of command. I was six years with
the Supplies before they pensioned me, and after that
I kept a cafe in Warasdin. Still, now I am here, I
dare say I shall get along somehow. You shall see. I '11
do all I can.'

The last words were spoken harshly, defiantly. Zill-
ner felt a sudden warmth of sympathy for the little man,
and a dull anger against those who had sent him there.

136 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

This poor broken relic in the trenches I And the offices
in Vienna, the safe and easy posts far in the rear, were
filled with men sound in wind and limb. Hundreds of
them, comfortably installed in berths as far removed
from danger as in peace time, leaving the heaviest
burdens to poor superannuated creatures invalided
years ago as unfit for further service. Truly a strange
thing, this country of theirs, the country that called for
sacrifices from all, yet where such gulfs were fixed. . . .
The mannikin emptied his glass with a thoughtful air,
then he smiled, and suddenly became confidential.

* Look you, brother, there 's another thing I ought to
tell you. The Major — he 's always fancying things.
The enemy, you know. Sees them everywhere — ^right
up in our own lines, ever so far from the front. Out-
posts and sentries all the way along — the men were
simply done up at last. Every cavalry patrol we came
across, he wanted to fire on them. And his leggings —
did you notice them ? — he 's done them all over with
grey. It 's perfectly true. . . .'

Zillner laughed, and cast a hasty glance at Don
Quixote. It would be awkward if he should chance to
overhear their remarks about his previous adventures
in the field. But there was no need for anxiety. The
veteran was sitting in a haze of cigarette smoke, earnestly
engaged with Major Blagorski and Pfustermeyer in
criticising the tactics of the Russians.

' And then,' went on Crlenjak, ' every village we came
to he smelt treachery. The priests especially — I don't
know why, I 'm sure — he always looked them up at the
start.*

* There 's no harm in doing that,' said Zillner. * Better
be on the safe side with them, anyway. If I had my
way, I 'd lock up the whole lot of them at once.' And
he recounted some of his own experiences with those
servants of the Lord.

' Ay, they are beasts, brother — ^beasts, they are.'

* On the whole, yes. Hypocrites nearly every one
of them, ready to serve either side as suits them best.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 13T

Zillner's honest eyes flashed. ' They should be turned
out, the lot of them, after the war — to Petrograd or to
Rome. Christ would not mind, I know.'

* You think so, brother ? Well, I don't know. . . .*
The mannikin stared at Zillner with frightened eyes.

But it was getting late. The candles flickered sleepily
in the thick haze of smoke. Pfustermeyer rapped on the
table, and cried with a ringing voice : * Now then.
One last glass for our new comrades in arms. . . .
Prosit!'

The man of war was not quite steady on his legs.
* Bravo. Br-ravo,' he stammered. * Soldiers all . . .
to the last drop of blood. . . . Soldiers -. . .'

The party broke up. Pfustermeyer followed von
Rosselsprung and the little captain to their quarters.
Zillner and Grill went off together. ' Madness I ' ex-
claimed the taciturn one, looking up at the cold starlit
sky. ' To send that civilian travesty to the front. Old
men in their second childhood. It would be simply a
massacre, if they were ever called upon to act inde-
pendently. A massacre I '

Zillner looked up in surprise. He had never heard
Grill speak with such warmth before. ' It is pitiful,' he
said softly, as if to himself, ' to see these poor old men,
whose day is over. We may laugh at them, but there is
something touching in it after all. Here they come with
their poor tiny candle, to guide the country on its dark
road . And the light burns more brightly than the showy
arc lamps of the overwise. . . ,'

* Nonsense,' said Grill coldly. * As if that could make
any difference.'

Then days full of a long-drawn tense anticipation.
Anxious hours slow -dropping in succession : we are
ready, ready, ready I

Those accursed Russians — ^would they never come ?
The line of hills stood like a row of giants armed for
battle, ready to meet all comers. The muddy grey
moles had dug and tunnelled into the body of the green

188 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

earth, and sat now huddled up in their holes, staring
at the sky, awaiting the first flight of the hateful
yellow birds that heralded the storm of shot and shell.
There was no romantic eagerness for battle, none of the
delirious wordy fever with which war correspondents in
search of copy filled the mouths of their imagined heroes.
No hunger for the fight, no thirst for blood. These
artisans and peasants who toiled so uncomplainingly
were never heard to revel in sounding words. But a
watchful impatience was everywhere apparent. It had
been hard work, all this time, with pick and shovel, axe
and saw ; and they were anxious to see how it would
stand the strain ; to test their work, and see that it was
sound. As a man who has built a house to be proof
against thieves will find a keen pleasure in seeing them
break their tools on its bolts and bars, and hear them
file and hammer in vain, so the men lay in their armoured
caves and waited for the enemy to try his strength.
' March them down ' — ^that was no longer possible.
But they might still, at any rate, ' Stand fast to the last
man.'

The Brigadier, now Division Commander, grew more
nervous every day. He had examined the positions,
measured the thickness of the defences with a foot-rule,
and found them to his satisfaction. The system of
trenches was complete, fulfilling all requirements, and
answering equally well to theory and empirical test.
Everything here was in order, only the enemy was
lacking. Patrol after patrol was sent out and recon-
noitring detachments made long marches ; he even
sought to force the Russians to attack by a series of
reconnaissances in force. But all in vain. The enemy
kept his infantry three days' march away, and showed
no sign of advancing to attack. Then the great man
began to lose courage : it was logically inevitable that,
if the enemy did not attack him, then he must attack
the enemy, since the enemy was in their territory. But
that meant abandoning all their elaborate defences here,
and moving out once more to the peril and uncertainty

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 139

of warfare in the open. It would be too exasperating.
But, after all, perhaps. . . . There had been a faint
sound of guns from the northward during the past few
days. He would dearly have liked to finish the war from
his comfortable farmhouse, with his telephone and micro-
phones, and all his trusty apparatus.
, And gradually the Tiefenbachers themselves began to
show signs of uneasiness. The men were beginning to
feel that their easy days would soon be at an end — and
just as they were settling down so comfortably. The
hardest part of the work was over, and there were
amusements to while away the time. Meals, served up
steaming hot at regular hours, letters every day, and in
the intervals, they could fail back upon the pleasantly
thrilling war of extermination against vermin, in which
some had attained a surprising degree of skill. In a
word the troops were beginning to succumb to the
demoralising effects of culture and refinement, and were
in no mood for further exertions. If they were sent out
on the march again, there would be no more easy days
of idling in camp, and no more parcels of comforts from
home. The Tiefenbachers scratched their heads appre-
hensively, and looked up at the sky, where now only
little white fleecy clouds were to be seen, and never so
much as a glimpse of an aeroplane with the black-eyed
circles under its wings. Only Major Don Quixote was
filled with a violent thirst for action. He kept his glass
continually fixed on the horizon, and dreamed grand
dreams of the Order of Maria Theresa.

One afternoon Karl Albert Kj-aft came marching by
Zillner's section, with a patrol and five Cossack prisoners.
Zillner ran out to meet him. ' Fancy coming across you
again,' he cried. ' How are you getting on ? '

' Oh, I 've buried some illusions — from the artistic
point of view. Otherwise, I manage pretty well.'

* Illusions — in what way ? '

* Oh, well, it 's rather more sordid and miserable than
I thought. I had expected something more inspiring ;
more of the sublime. But that was long ago.'

140 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

* It 's not so long since you were wildly enthusiastic
yourself about the war.'

' Maybe. But I 've seen a good deal since then. As
it is — well, as an artist, I 've found war disappointing.
As a soldier, I believe in it, and I think we 're going to
win.*

* Why ? ' '

* Well, I can't imagine our being beaten by these
animals,' he pointed towards the batch of prisoners, ' and
their drivers. After all, the more cultured race must win
in the end.'

Zillner smiled. ' But suppose we don't ? '

* Then — But no, it is impossible. We must,' said the
painter earnestly.

Zillner grasped his friend's hand. ' Yes, yes — ' he
stammered. ' We must. That 's what I tell myself, day
after day, night after night. We must win. It would
be horrible if ... I 'm ever so glad you say the same.
One must have faith — it 's the only way,' he added
excitedly.

* Yes, one must have faith,' said Karl Albert grimly.
' And never lose it. A soldier cannot live without.'

' Ay, and never lose it,' repeated Zillner slowly. ' But
if one lost it after all — ^what then ? '

' It 's hopeless to talk of that. One must cling to
one's faith like a drowning man to a plank. To lose it
is death. But there is no danger of that. You will
see.'

* What do you mean ? '

* I mean we shall beat them before very long.
What do you think of my little haul ? '

* First-rate. Out with six men and bring home five
prisoners. Congratulate you. How did you get them ? '

* Shot their horses under them, and they came crawling
in, hands up, to surrender. A rotten lot.'

Kraft took his leave, and stalked off in triumph with
his prize.

But Zillner's soul was in a fever. The other's words,
* Never lose faith . . . cling to it like a drowning man,'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 141

pang in his ears. Yes, he was right. Faith without
question. No * if,' no * but,' no hesitation bom of too
much bitter knowledge. Faith such as that meant
victory. He walked slowly towards his quarters, his
face lit with a glow from the red sunset clouds. If only
all hearts could glow like that sky, he thought — with the
faith of that German soul. ' And you yourself,' came a
scornful voice within — ' Can you ? Can you still be-
lieve ? Can your heart still glow with faith ? Think
of the horrors of last August — of Rutzinger . . .' And
another whisper came : ' No, do not think. Have
faith ! Do not look back, only believe I ' And a third
voice : ' Faith, faith I Cling to it like a drowning man.
It is the soldier's only way I ' And Zillner's soul flung
itself upon the first little scornful voice, and stifled it :
* Silence ! I will have faith — faith I Be silent.'
And the scornful whisper died away.

Zillner found two surprises awaiting him. One was
an order from division headquarters ; the troops were
to prepare for a march. Detailed instructions from the
General Commanding explained how the reconstruction
of the position had been effected, so that the army could
now take the offensive, shoulder to shoulder, with their
German comrades. It was also pointed out that opera-
tions were proceeding most satisfactorily on all fronts.
Belgium was crushed under the irresistible advance of
Germany ; Antwerp, the last bulwark, was on the point
of collapse. In Russian Poland, also a victorious ad-
vance. As to Serbia, the fighting there, it seemed, had
assumed a particularly desperate character, while, on
the other hand, there were prospects of a speedy and
decisive result in that direction. And finally a perora-
tion : ' Soldiers ! A hard struggle awaits you, but we are
assured of the justice of our cause, and shall fight on to
the victorious end. Heroes I You will not suffer the
enemy to gain a foothold in our land ; your irresistible
courage will annihilate the foe. The Blessing of the
All-Highest be on your endeavours.'

142 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

The second surprise was a letter from Baroness Lisl.
She wrote : —

* October 1914.

* Dear Friend, — I am here in the hospital with Moritz.
He does not seem to be getting on as he ought, and I am
so anxious about him, so I write to you — perhaps you
could give me a word of comfort. I was so happy;
Moritz was getting better every day, and the wound
seemed healing up so nicely. Then yesterday bronchial
catarrh set in, with high fever, and the fever will not
leave him. He is asleep now, thank God, but he is
terribly weak, and looks perfectly dreadful, poor fellow.
The doctor says something about complications, and
thinks there will have to be an operation. And so we
are going to Vienna to have it seen to. Do you think
it can be dangerous ? Oh, how dreadful it all is, shoot-
ing and slaughtering. This hateful war ! They are all
badly wounded cases here, but none of them is as bad
as Moritz, poor boy. He sends his kindest regards, and
hopes you will have better luck than he has. Keep well,
and write soon, and say it is not serious. — Your affec-
tionate Lisl Krottenburg.'

* P.S. — It can't be dangerous really, can it ? '

Poor Lisl ! Zillner looked at the stijffliy sloping letters
that seemed running as if driven by fear across the paper.
He could see her now ; pale and brave, and it hurt him
to be so helpless to comfort her. Providence should be
kinder, he thought, to old mothers and young women in
love ; to hurt them was the cruellest thing in all the
cruelty of war. Poor Krottenburg — it was hard luck.
Perhaps he himself would soon. . . . But no matter.
There was no mother to grieve for him, no wife.
Clarisse . . . ? Her warm eyes, perhaps, would fill
with tears ; his kisses pleased her more than other
men's. Why was he so cynical in his thoughts of her ?
She had not deserved it. She would mourn for him, he
knew, in other ways than that. But would she care
about his soul ? Still, he felt he had wronged her in his

CAPTAIN ZTLLNER 143

thoughts ; he asked her pardon now, and kissed her
hand repentantly in his heart.

He wrote to Lisl at once, pouring out all the comfort
he could find, and swearing that a bullet wound in the
chest was never serious, and bronchial catarrh a trifle
soon got over. He looked forward to her next letter ;
was sure she would then be able to say he was quite
recovered. And she must write again soon. Then he
went on to tell the latest news. ' We are moving out
again to-morrow, and I am awfully glad.' He wrote
six pages full of the flowers of faith, and when at last he
had finished, he saw to his dismay that he had only
given poor Lisl two pages of comfort for her own distress,
with three times as much war to follow. She would not
be pleased, he knew. But what could he do ? He him-
self was happy now, looking forward to what was to come.

CHAPTER IX

Rain, rain . . . the sun had hidden his face. Grey
banners of cloud waved over the sky, a mass of torn and
dirty rags, swelHng out and bursting, fluttering along
day and night, traiHng their ragged edges over the tree-
tops. A sea of mist drove over the earth, lashed for-
ward incessantly by the wind, that howled out threats
of deluges to follow.

Late autumn in Galicia. The summer is dead and
gone, and a miserable world lies afcjectly crushed under
its bereavement. Birch and willow, beech and pop-
lar, all showed rust on their green summer armour,
and moisture dripped from them unceasingly — drip —
drip. . . .

Late autumn in Galicia. Roads and fields all awash
with mud, and death glowering out from the overflowing
swamps. The wet, moss-grown thatch of the peasants'
huts sank under the weight of the clouds, having borne
the burden of the deluge year after year. There was
no help. . . . And men and women saw once more that
year the march of war trampling on their poverty.
Lord, have mercy upon us ! Women knelt before the
Virgin of Czenstchau, whose efiigy hangs in every cot-
tage, and prayed : * Holy Mother of God, have pity upon
us, deliver us from evil, and from the Cossacks. Amen.'
And the Lady smiled kindly down upon them, as she
was wont to do at christenings, at weddings, or when
funeral trains passed by. The grey geese flew in their
snowplough formation high over wood and moorland,
high above the dread in human hearts — late autumn it
was in Galicia.

Grey columns trailed serpent-like through the deep

144

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 145

mire ; glistening no longer, but encrusted with mud and
filth that weighed down man and beast. The infantry
tramped along with tent-cloths over their heads, looking
like so many grimy sugar-loaves. The artillery drawled
to a cracking of whips to get along. It was heavy work
for leader and driver. The cavalry stuck to the columns ;
it was impossible to move, save on the roads themselves.
The risk of drowning they might have faced, but the
animals were worn out. Softly nurtured in times of
peace, they had no stamina left for further hardships.
The riders urged them on with leg and spur, but the
shrunken flanks had lost their finer feeling. The animals
flicked their tails : ' All right, we 're doing all we can,'
and hobbled along again with drooping heads. And far
in the rear were the transport waggons, constantly
sticking fast and being dragged on again. ' Hi ! get
along there.' And on a little way, and sticking fast
again : ' Hi ! get along.' And so the march went on.
No halt, no rest.

' Filthy weather,' growled Pfustermeyer, emptying
the water from the right-hand pocket of his raincoat.
' I ought by rights to have been down with rheumatism
long ago. Look at that ! ' And he pointed indignantly
to the stream . ' If we don't all get mildew on the brain I '
Zillner smiled absently. The rain had been pouring
down for three days now — but what matter ? They had
covered a good distance, considering. The territory
they had evacuated a month earlier lay now gratefully
at their feet. Part of it was already behind them,
cleared of the Cossacks, and not far ahead was the great
river. Once that was won, all might be well. The
Higher Command, too, seemed to have undergone a
welcome change. There was no more rushing on blindly,
but rather an advance by stages. True, the Intelligence
Department was not as efficient as could be wished,
owing to the wretched state of the cavalry.

' It 's beastly weather,' admitted Zillner to his com-
panion, ' but I can't say it troubles me very much.

K

146 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

We seem to be getting on pretty well. Looks as if we
might make a better job of it this time.'

* You think so ? Well, I shouldn't be sorry if the
bigwigs had grown wiser after their last lesson — ^which
we had to pay for. But, as a matter of fact, I 'm rather
inclined to think these new Fabian tactics are brought
on by the weather ; all this water on their heads has
cooled the brains of our friends in the bottle-green.
Once a fine spell sets in again, I 'm very much afraid
they '11 find all have the Maria -Theresa fever as badly as
before.'

' There 's not much fear of that — fine weather, I mean.
What do you think of our friend the enemy, by the way ?
He seems an adept at running away.'

' He '11 pull up soon enough, you wait and see. Unless
he 's taken fright at our fire-eating von Rosselsprung.'

Major Don Quixote certainly presented a terrifying
aspect as he rode. His face was a lemon yellow, and he
hung shivering in the saddle, the gout twitching and
nipping in every limb. But his beady eyes burned
fiercely, and his telescope was constantly searching for
the enemy, while he muttered curses on them for failing
to appear. The little captain, Crlenjak, spoke but
little ; he was suffering tortures from rheumatism, and
every now and again would seek comfort in the contents
of his flask. * This miserable rain. ... I can't make
out . . .'

Despite the cautious slowness of their advance, the
Tiefenbachers came upon the enemy unexpectedly. One
morning the rain had ceased, and fields and meadows
were steaming with moisture. Just as the head of the
column came down into a little valley with a clump of
firs below, there was a sudden spatter of musketry from
somewhere unseen. The bullets flew far overhead, and
there were no casualties. But it was enough ; Colonel
Prapora, in the rear, commended his regiment to the
care of the Almighty, sprang hastily from his horse, and,
calling for the colours, ensconced himself under cover,
where he stayed.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 147

Zillner, in command of the advance guard, dashed
forward to the edge of the wood. Between these two
extremes, the Colonel sitting and watching the white
shrapnel clouds with great displeasure, and the leader
of the advanced patrol reconnoitring the apparently
empty ground in front, the battalions spread out fan-
wise, and hurried forward in brave uncertainty.

It was a typical Austrian engagement from the early
days of the war. Shots are fired somewhere or other —
the enemy must be at hand. The Higher Command
dismounts and takes cover. The battalions form up
automatically in readiness for action, and hurry forward
in thin lines. No one knows exactly where the enemy
is, or what is his strength. The Higher Command would
like to do something or other, but does not quite know
what. That is the first phase.

In the second, the enemy has, as a rule, been located
more or less — one can tell from what direction the firing
comes, but his strength and dispositions are still unknown.
At this stage, the foremost companies roll forward inde-
pendently, firing and being fired on as they go, while
those behind remain in a state of tension in reserve.
The battalion commanders take no prominent part ;
they have taken cover somewhere with their adjutants
and buglers, and are watching curiously to see what
happens. Ought they to bring up the reserves on the
centre, or on the right, or left ? Hard to say ? Which
flank is the weaker ? Their science cannot tell. There
is an action in progress up in front, that is all they know,
and there is a constant dropping of lead from above,
which disquiets them in cover.

Third phase. Rapid firing all along the line. The
companies have each got into touch with the nearest
enemy ; the men are shooting hurriedly, and wasting
much ammunition. The staff is beginning to feel
nervous — strictly speaking, perhaps one ought to order
an advance at this point. Something must be done.
But where — right, centre, left? . . . What about the
reserves ? Never mind, bring them up to the firing

148 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

line at the nearest point. And no sooner said than done.
The staff creep out from their cover and whistle and sig-
nal for the advance. The reserves dash up to the part
of the firing line nearest them, throw themselves down,
and open fire. Thus the attack ' develops.'

Meanwhile, the Higher Command is sweating with
anxiety. Ought to do something, of course ; issue
prompt orders for decisive action of some sort — ^possibly
an alteration of the existing arrangement.. But how is
it to be done ? Between them and the firing line is an
antechamber of death, where the air is alive with lead.
No voice could be heard through that. Where is the
telephone ? No time to lay any line m the hurry of the
unexpected attack. Consequently, it will be necessary
to expose oneself in person. But that will not do — as a
matter of fact, it is strictly against the rules and regula-
tions. It is the duty of the company commanders and
their subalterns, and in exceptional cases of battalion
commanders, to sacrifice themselves ; the Higher Com-
mand must at all times keep out of danger as far as
possible. What, then, is to be done ? For the present,
nothing but keep under cover, and try to conceal anxiety
by curses and exclamation, wringing of hands, or an
impressive iciness of manner, according to temperament.

In the fourth and last phase, one of two things may
happen. Either the leaders have chanced to hit upon
the right thing at the right moment, and thrown their
forces against the enemy's weak point and gained a
victory, or, as too often is the case, the enemy makes a
sudden furious rush at one flank, and always the one
where no reserves were available. And the confused
maestoso of brainlessly expended coiirage ends in an in-
glorious retreat.

This time the Tiefenbachers were in luck. Every-
thing worked out all right in the end, though by no means
according to schedule. Zillner had quickly discovered
whence the firing came. On a hill rising gently from the
farther side of the valley, beyond the clump of firs, there
lay the enemy, almost invisible in shallow trenches. In

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 149

front, and on the left of the slope, lay a village, the out-
skirts of which were likewise occupied by the Russians,
with their guns in rear. There was but little artilleiy
fire, however, and the effect produced was slight. The
batteries were drawn up about a thousand paces from
the ridge ; the infantry in the village were a little over
half that distance away. Zillner drew up his men at
the edge of the wood ; on the left was Grill, with his
model company, and on the right Captain Crlenjak with
his detachment. Pfustermeyer was in reserve, with his
company posted in a ditch in the wood ; Major Blagorski
was with them. The guardian angel of the Tiefenbachers
had caused the other battalions to extend out to the left,
where a sunken road led up to the village. Colonel
Prapora, who remained with the colours a thousand
paces in the rear, did not approve of these dispositions ;
he would have preferred to throw in his weight on the
right. His reasons for holding this view were not stated,
but he was evidently displeased, and slapped his cape
furiously on the ground. Meanwhile, the action de-
veloped, and soon the opposing forces were hotly en-
gaged. The Russians were still but indifferent marks-
men, and the Austrian artillery soon began to take part,
silencing the enemy's guns after a brief spell of energetic
fire. The losses up to now were but small.

The fourth phase was approaching. Major Blagorski
stretched himself at ease by the ditch, with Pfustermeyer
at his side. ' Time we were moving up,' he said. His
withered face seemed rejuvenated by a happy resolution.
* Going on nicely to-day. And in the absence of the
Colonel, I think — I will venture — ^to try and get in on
the left.' He cast a questioning glance at the heavy
captain, as if seeking for support.

' I think so too, sir. We can get up under cover of the
village, and take them in flank.'

* Exactly — yes, that 's what I meant. You will
remain here, if you please, with my battalion, and hold
the position.'

The old soldier rose to his feet, and strode off rapidly

150 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

through the trees to the left. To-day, at least, he could
act on his own mitiative ; no need to dance like a
marionette while others pulled the strings. To-day his
mind was clear ; relieved of the dread of censure and
the thought of what the Colonel would say. He walked
with a firai step, sprightly as in the days when he was
a young lieutenant, without a care in the world. He
scarcely noticed the crackle of firing and the whine of
bullets about him, and paid no heed to the flying splinters
from the trees. His mind was made up.

Pfustermeyer had got his huge frame into an upright
position, and stood now leaning against a tree, watching
the progress of the fighting ahead. He was just about
to throw in his reserves and carry forward the firing line
with them, when something unexpected happened.

* Cease fire ! ' It was the withered mannikin Crlenjak.
And as he gave the order, he sprang forward in front
of the rifle muzzles, waving his arms wildly. Then,
* Follow me ! ' Crlenjak had no very powerful voice at
the best of times, and only those nearest could have
heard him. But at sight of the little skimpy figure
racing away on his aged legs, the whole company sprang
up and dashed after him. There was a little brook
ahead ; the mannikin stumbled, and went in up to the
hips, staggered on a little, and stood still, in the midst
of a hail of bullets. The men hurried after, splashed into
the water, and clambered up on the other side, their
leader all the while shouting and waving his arms. Then
he sat down. He had brought up his men to within four
hundred yards of the enemy. Grill followed hard on his
heels. The model captain had the ill -fortune to run up
against the jet from a machine-gun, and in a moment
he had lost thirty men. Zillner and Pfustermeyer
covered the advance ; the firing line had been pushed
forward now. In the meantime, the Major had brought
up the second and third battalions by the sunken road,
and had taken the enemy in flank. Soon there came a
sound of cheering, and a moment after it was repeated
from close at hand. The Russians had taken to flight.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 151

and the withered mannikin stood there victorious in the
enemy's position, waving his arms wildly. Close behind
him, Grill was pouring farewell bullets after the retreat-
ing foe. Not until twilight fell did the firing cease.

The victors assembled in the village, at the house of
the priest. The holy man himself was fetched up from
the cellar, trembling and in no pious mood. He served
up a meal in the musty dining-room ; bread, sausage,
and wine, which he set before his guests, not out of
Christian charity, but for a price. And when this
steward of God's mercy was invited to shelter the
wounded, he burst out into desperate entreaties.

' Gk)od sirs, I beg of you — think of my floors.' But he
did not escape. Zillner sent off men to fetch straw from
the well-filled barn at the back, and beds of a sort were
made up on the floor of the biggest room in the place.
The slightly wounded came in first, men hit in the hands
or feet or shoulders, groaning, pale, and spattered with
blood. A couple of bad cases were carried up ; their
faces showed already that mysterious change ; an ex-
pression as of something remote, almost supernatural.
They moaned slightly and asked for water. And when
they had drunk, they whispered ' Mother.' But no
ambulance could bring her to them there.

The priest stood with his hands folded over his stomach
looking down upon all the misery and distress. Then
turning to Zillner, he said : ' I see there are some among
them who may be in need of the last offices of Holy
Church. . . .' Suddenly he broke off, and his unctuous
voice grew hard, as he went on, ' Pardon me, but there
are no Jews among them, I hope. I could not receive
under my roof . . .*

The young captain flushed angrily, and clenched his
fists ; he would have liked to plant them full in the
bloated face of that priestly hypocrite. It would have
relieved him mightily. A man who could speak like
that at such a time deserved to be hung, no less. He
controlled himself, however, and his steel-grey eyes looked

152 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

the man up and down from collar to hem of his greasy
frock.

' I do not know if there are Jews here or not,* he said
sternly. ' But turn one of those men out of this house,
and I shoot you on the spot.' He turned on his heel, and
the shepherd of souls went off to collect his paraphernalia
for launching them on the voyage to heaven.

It was nearly midnight when the Colonel came up.
He was visibly moved, and congratulated the regiment,
as he fell to upon his supper, eating with hearty appetite.

* Went off very nicely,' he said, with his mouth full.

* Almost exactly as it should.' Then catching sight of
the wounded, with the doctors still busy among them,
he went on in a melancholy tone : ' Ah, yes, the fallen —
poor fellows ! Terrible, terrible ! Are there — any — er —
casualties among the officers ? '

There were two second lieutenants of the second bat-
talion killed, four other wounded, and Major von
Rosselsprung had been thrown from his horse.

* Very sad, very sad indeed,' said the Colonel. He
then gave orders for the whole regiment to remain at its
post in the captured position throughout the night.

* The company officers will, of course, remain with their
men. We never know . . .'

The Adjutant noticed the looks of dismay on the
faces of the officers present, and endeavoured like a good
comrade to help them out. ' Don't you think, sir — ^we
might . . . Our patrols have reported that the enemy
are in full ffight — and our men must be in need of rest
after a heavy day. . . . The rain coming on again . . .
might it not be sufficient to double the outposts ? '

The Colonel turned on him in haughty surprise. ' Sir,
are we at war, or are we not ? The men do not require
to be nursed day and night. Say no more, sir, if you
please. The order will be carried out as I have said.
The men to be at their posts within two hours from now.'
And with a wave of his hand, the Colonel betook himself
to the best bedroom to sleep for the rest of the night.

A general murmur of discontent arose. The order

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 153

was unreasonable — ridiculous. It was pouring with
rain, and the men were worn out.

' " Care will be taken to keep men and material in good
condition," quoted one. ' We shall have a nice sick
list to-morfow. Half of them down with rheumatism.
Cruelty to animals — infernal shame ! '

Little Crlenjak was murmuring to himself : ' Raining
again. . . . Really, I don't know . . . ' — ^when a hand
was laid on his shoulder.

' Stay where you are, comrade. I 've a bundle of
straw there in the corner. You can take my place, and
I '11 go out for to-night. I 'm not troubled with gout,
you know, and it won't hurt me.'

' You, Major ? No, no,' stammered the mannikin.
' I thank you, sir. I thank you, but with all respect —
couldn't think of it.' Two weary old men looked into
each other's eyes. Then the still active Major grasped
the hand of the little Captain declared unfit for further
service, ' even with the militia,' and, pressing it kindly,
led him to his corner. ' Lie down there and rest, com-
rade. You did wonders to-day. I '11 see that it 's
not forgotten. Good -night.' And the withered little
veteran lay down, with a thrill of joy and pride.

Pfustermeyer beckoned to his brother captains.
' Colonel 's sure of a decoration for to-day's work,' he
whispered. ' Guess why ? '

' For keeping safely out of it all,' suggested one.

' No, sir, that 's not it. For finding his way back to
the regiment, having to pass through a wood which we
had cleared of the enemy, and a village ditto, all in the
dark, and raining into the bargain.'

There was a shout of laughter, in the midst of which a
stretcher was brought in. It was Major Don Quixote.
His eye still flashed, but his black-dyed moustache had
lost its martial trim, and hung down draggled and grey.
It was indeed a draggled and grey von Rosselsprung that
met their eyes now. So the Kiiight of La Mancha might
have looked after his battle with the windmills. Sticky
mud hung about him like the icing on a cake.

154 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

His brother officers gathered round him sympatheti-
cally. ' What 's this. Major ? Not badly hurt, I hope ? '

The fire-eater waved a hand deprecatingly. ' Nothing
serious, gentlemen, nothing very much. The luck was
against me to-day. I was just dismounting, when the
beast galloped off, and dragged me along. One rib and
a leg broken — ^not quite the sort of thing one expects
on active service . . . still . . .' A twinge of pain
shot through the grey face.

' Oh, we '11 soon have you fixed up again. Major,' said
Pfustermeyer encouragingly. ' Little trip to Vienna,
do the convalescent there for a bit, and then come back
and join us in Kiev or Moscow. Don't worry about
that I '

* Yes, but you know, that 's not the worst of it. My
telescope, binoculars, vacuum flask, and everything —
gone! All the lot! Well, well. . . . I 'd better get
along to the doctor, I suppose.'

And the shade of Don Quixote disappeared within,
cursing the unlucky jade that had been the cause of all
his troubles.

The other passed through the hall, where the wounded
lay groaning and whispering half-unconsciously, and set
off through the rain and the dark. Hoods were drawn
down, and electric pocket lamps flashed out. The rain
was pouring in torrents. The men were huddled up at
their posts, covered as well as they could manage with
tent-cloths and straw, or lay shivering with cold in the
dug-outs. A stream of water flowed down along the
bottom of the trench, trickling noisily over the cartridge
cases of the late defenders.

Zillner drew a sheet of canvas about his shoulders.
The men about him were snoring, despite the wet.
Worn out with fatigue, they slept like lost cattle, like
beasts that had learned to do without the shelter of a
byre, and were now inured to hardships and discomfort.
The outposts, forced to keep awake, stood gazing out
into the impenetrable darkness, stamping, their feet from
time to time, to keep warm. The hours dragged on with

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 155

heavy groping pace. Zillner found no difficulty in
keeping awake. Not that the cold and the wet prevented
him from sleeping, though the water had soon found its
way through to his skin. He could not have slept that
night in the softest bed. It was pure delight that kept
him awake.

Next morning the sun shone out, knowing perfectly
well that it was contrary to rules and regulations at that
time of year, wherefore it had hung little rags of cloud
about its frozen face, and peeped through as if half
ashamed to be seen. Nevertheless, the drops on the
trees were grateful, and twinkled up their thanks before
falling to the wet earth ; the sickly grass, too, seemed the
better for it. Even the puddles shone with a golden
gleam, and the windows in the wretched cottages
sparkled. The sun ! . . .

The Tiefenbachers had already marched for two hours
of the new day, and were lying now in a potato field,
ready for action. Orders had been received from corps
headquarters to halt at a certain point, where the cavalry
were to effect a manoeuvre designed to hoodwink the
enemy. And so the Tiefenbachers lay in readiness in
their dripping potato field. The sun was drawing up
the moisture from their sodden clothes, and they turned
and spread themselves to get the most of it.

Colonel Prapora took advantage of the pause to give
the officers an instructive little lecture on the action of
the day before — exactly as at manoeuvres. The officers
stood round in a respectful half circle, maps in hand.
Colonel Prapora had a decided talent for discussing
questions of tactics ; he spoke fluently, and with the
usual professional jargon of the expert, yet withal easily
and, as it were, confidently. His explanations were
emphatic if not lucid, and liberally interlarded with
quotations from the handbooks. It was not, as a rule,
wise to oppose his views, or suggest alternatives. Like
a seer among the blind, he laid down the law to his flock,
by virtue of that higher schooling which had taught him

156 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

to create worlds out of the nebulous inane. And he
fashioned his worlds according to his will, and was not
pleased when any of his staff failed to recognise the
excellence of his creation.

On the whole, he was not displeased with the results
of yesterday's action. He approved of the rapid and
connected manner in which the troops had been brought
up at the proper moment ; the eagerness and ilan of
their advance, and the prudence with which advantage
had been taken of the ground, which, on the one hand
, . . while on the other hand . . . etc. With regard
to the final move, the attack on the flank, he was not
quite sure that it had been wise to deliver that on the
left. It was a delicate point. True, it had proved
successful, still ... by striking the final blow on the
right, it would have been possible to threaten the
enemy's line of retreat far more seriously, as . . . And
he proved it conclusively, by the most delicate arguments
expressed in plastic phrases.

Pfustermeyer nudged Zillner unobserved.

' I did not interfere,' the Colonel went on, ' for, as I
have said, there was nothing absolutely wrong in attack-
ing on the left. One thing, however ' — his handsome
blue eyes darkened as he spoke — ' I must censure as
absolutely indefensible, and that was the isolated rush
from the front group. You are all aware, gentlemen,
that isolated movements, however courageously executed
■ — but you know that as well as I do. It is a point on
which all writers are agreed. Supposing that the enemy
had made a counter charge, and driven that company
back — I ask you, what would the consequences have
been ? Who was in command of that company, by
the way ? '

Captain Crlenjak saluted. ' I, sir.'

* iVom a tactical point of view, the movement was
altogether unwarrantable. WTiat induced you to act
as you did ? '

The mannikin glanced round helplessly for support.
* J , , , I thought, sir . . , that ... it seemed , . ,'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 157

Major Blagorski raised his hand to his cap. His
bushy moustache was trembling. * Captain Crlenjak,
sir, was the first to discover the weakness of the enemy
at that point, and lost no time in taking advantage of it.
I have reported his action as deserving of recognition.'

The Colonel was taken aback. ' H'm, yes — a very
plucky piece of work — certainly. I — er — certainly, yes.
But from a tactical point of view, it was undoubtedly
an error. And I must beg you, sir, for the future not to
repeat it. Independent actions of that sort. . . . You
understand ? '

' No, sir, I do not understand,' said the little man
firmly.

It was an awkward moment. The Colonel flushed
angrily, and grasped at his cape — a sure sign of trouble
brewing. Then Grill came to the rescue. ' Permit me,
sir,' he said quietly. ' Recognising the situation as
critical — ^as you have already pointed out — I moved up
my company to support Captain Crlenjak, and effected
a lodgment at the same time.'

* After me, if you please,' cried Crlenjak.

* Lnmediately after,' insisted the model Captain.

The angry flush faded from the Colonel's brow. * Pre-
cisely,' he said, in some relief. ' You see, gentlemen,
how presence of mind and resolute action may save the
situation at a critical moment. Captain Grill must be
recommended for a like mark of distinction.'

' As you please, sir,' murmured Major Blagorski.

Captain Crlenjak was altogether confused. * I don't
understand. . . .'

The cavalry was coming up. The squadrons were spread
out into a thin extended line, the reserves in close forma-
tion following up the rear. A whole division rode slowly
across the fields, and was lost to sight in the next hollow.

' Ah,' said the Colonel, bent on improving the occasion.
' You see, gentlemen — cavalry thrown forward to veil
the movements of the main body, and at the same time
acting as a bait to draw the enemy. Their orders are
to make a demonstration and retire fighting, as scon as

168 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

they have enticed the enemy to pursue. The enemy
should then, as far as it is possible to foresee, follow what
he believes to be the advantage gained, and will be drawn
into a trap. We shall be ready for him here, and he will
be finally annihilated by our artillery, which is drawn up
under cover of the hills over there. A masterly plan ;
nothing less.' Pfustermeyer, standing with his hands
behind his back, pinched Zillner slyly in the rear.

As Fate would have it, the masterly plan did not
altogether work out as it should have done. The
cavalry certainly did their part, but the Russians most
inconsiderately declined to do theirs. Instead of falling
in with the scheme, and carrying out the business
allotted to them, they preferred to fall back slowly and
in order, to the bank of the great river, where so many
war games had been won and lost in time of peace.^

The Tiefenbachers marched forward accordingly.
The skeletons of burned villages glowered like ghosts
upon them all along the road, and peasants crept about
like ghouls among the ruins. The images of saints that
they had hung up on the walls of their cottages had
availed but little to ward off tribulation from the home.
The Muscovite is an orthodox believer, and cares nothing
for the Romish calendar of saints, still less for the com-
mandments of the Jews. And the black pennants of
war flew high against the grey of the autumn sky.

Zillner glanced absently at the desolation around.
He was in high spirits now, almost jubilant, and full of a
deep thankfulness. He had regained his faith. From
the innermost depths of his heart he believed, as he rode
slowly through the devastated land in those autumn
days. Success was waiting for them there by the great
river, beckoning to her poor stepchildren in the Aus-
trian ranks. Was not that rainbow there in the east a
sign ? Forward — towards it — through it. And then —
his dreams went on — and then our country that we love
will receive us in the hall of honour. Soldiers I And

^ The river San, flowinjf into the Danube from the south, past the
fortresses of Przemysl and Jaroslaw.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 159

all will bow in admiration and say : ' Behold the army
of the people I An army of many nations, speaking
many tongues, but with a single heart, a single arm.
Hail to the victors 1 ' And the women would come,
mothers and wives and lovers, their faces still drawn with
pain, and whisper with the rest : * Hail to the victors I '
And the dead heroes would be blessed through all time.
So he dreamed, riding slowly on, and his drowsy horse
nodded assent. All about him fluttered the black flags
of despair, but his fancy dyed them anew, to red-and-
white, and to black-and-yellow. The holy colours that
had waved for so many years — ^they would hang from
every window in every street at the homecoming. And
there would be flowers, flowers ! ... So he dreamed.

One evening he was sent for by the Colonel. In front
of that officer's quarter, a neat and fairly well appointed
farmstead, a fatigue party was digging.

' What are you at work on there ? ' he asked.

' Bomb-proof shelter for the Colonel, sir,* answered
the corporal in charge. * Have to make a new one every
halt.'

Zillner shook his head and smiled as he went on. It
was really comical, after all.

The Colonel received him with unusual politeness.
* Sit down. Captain, if you please. Ah — ^you are trans-
ferred to corps headquarters — dating from to-morrow.
His Excellency has just sent the order through. Are
you acquainted with His Excellency ? ' Zillner was
not. ' Anyhow, it is a great honour, of course. Evi-
dently, it means work on the General Staff. Do not
forget, if you please, to give my compliments . . . and
— er — I congratulate you, my dear fellow.'

Zillner went off, by no means pleased with the new
arrangement. He was bitterly sorry to leave his com-
pany now, during the advance, and, worst of all, to
hand it over to Spicka, the Czech, whom he had always
distrusted. He hurried across to the Major's quarters ;
the old man received him in a red fez and slippers.

* I know all about it,' he said, as Zillner entered.

leO CAPTAIN ZILLNER

' And I 'm sorry to lose a good man. What can I give
you to drink ? '

Zillner was most concerned about Spicka. The
Major listened attentively to what he had to say, and
promised to do what he could. ' I will keep an eye on
him,' he said. ' But I can't very well do more. To ask
for some one else would look bad — bad for the whole
battalion. And the Colonel . . . you know . . . '

Zillner handed over the company funds and the rolls
to the dark-browed Czech. He would have liked to
take leave of the men, but they were already asleep in
their barns. He went back to his quarters, with a
feeling of melancholy that he could not repress, and
shook hands with his two subalterns. He was utterly
miserable at leaving it all, and saying good-bye to his
little Hungarian — he had never before realised how
much he had grown to care for the boy. That night
seemed as if it would never end.

CHAPTER X

* And I hope soon to be able to inform our mutual
friends that we have secured a valuable addition to our
staff.' His Excellency smiled graciously. ' Can you
sketch at all ? Maps, I mean ? '

' Yes, your Excellency.'

' Good ! Tramhuber ' — General von Kreutzen turned
to his Chief of Staff — ' Captain Zillner here will take over
the map work at once. Zapperer hasn't quite the knack
of it. Good-bye, then, for the present, my dear Zillner.'

The General extended his hand, and Zillner's first
audience was over. He had been very well received.
The Chief of Staff showed him down the carpeted pas-
sages to the billiard -room, where the department to
which he was just appointed was installed.

' Pleased to have you with us,' said Colonel Tram-
huber courteously. * I understand it is a lady whom
we have to thank . . . well . . . well . . .' and he
glanced smilingly at the young Captain's slender figure.
Tramhuber was a man about five-and-forty, but white-
haired already. His pale, pleasant face wore a constant
expression of thoughtful preoccupation, such as is fre-
quently seen in men accustomed to severe mental work.
The reference to the intervention of Clarisse jarred on
Zillner harshly ; he thought of his comrades who would
have to lie out in the trenches in the cold, while he himself
could sit at his ease in comfortable quarters, drawing
maps, merely because a woman had interested herself
in his welfare. He was altogether innocent of any
attempt to make use of such influence, yet he could not
help feeling himself as a deserter. The contrast between
the life and work of his comrades in the regiment and
this to which he had been transferred was accentuated

162 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

by the atmosphere of comfort and luxury pervading the
whole building, with its marble stairway and its carpeted
floors. Certainly, it was pleasant to breathe such an
air after the roughness and discomfort of trenches and
cantonments. The lofty rooms, the costly furniture
gave him a sense of well-being ; even the landscape
without seemed to improve when seen through plate-
glass windows.

They entered the billiard -room. A huge table,
littered with maps and sketches, took up the centre of
the room, and at smaller tables round about sat a dozen
officers of the staff busily at work. Compasses and
dividers stalked with big strides over hills and valleys,
contour lines and rivers. Typewriters clattered, and
pens creaked over the regulation service paper. Other-
wdse, the work went on in silence, save for a word here
and there. These were the men whose task it was to
point the roads of the armies, and they were conscious
of the importance of their work. Their faces twitched
now and again with the strain of intense concentration ;
their- brows were lined with vertical furrows, that stood
like exclamation marks between the eyes. ' I am work-
ing ! Do not venture to disturb me 1 ' There were high
brows and low among these elect ; bald heads and heads
of hair neatly brushed. Common to them all was the
earnest preoccupation of the creative artist, the pious
devotion with which they looked upon their work.
Captain Zapperer, whose one idea was his own advance-
ment, was bending over a sketch map, on which he was
lining in with blue the position of the corps according
to reports just in.

The Colonel introduced Zillner to his new companions,
one after another looking up and greeting him with a
slight pressure of the hand. Zapperer bowed with an
ingratiating smile. ' Delighted, my dear fellow, I 'm
sure.' Then the buzz of work went on as before. In
apparent contrast to the workers round about was a
figure leaning against the big central table, and seem-
ingly idle. As a matter of fact, however, he was no

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 168

less occupied than the rest. Lieutenant Prince Rabenegg,
of the Menelik Hussars, who had volunteered for service
on the staff, had undertaken an important additional
task, and was now contemplating his work at its latest
stage. It consisted in sticking pms with coloured flags
into a large-scale map, showing at a glance the position
of the troops and of the enemy opposed to them. Day
after day the distinguished old gentleman shifted his
flags in closest accordance with the movements of the
various units. It was most important to have the
position correctly indicated. And the lines occupied
by the Austrian troops were drawn with the most
scrupulous accuracy. If those allotted to the enemy
did not always correspond to the actual facts, this was,
of course, solely due to the unsportsmanlike slyness of
the Russians, who often had their reserves posted in
places quite unsuspected by the General Staff. . . .

The Prince, a little fatigued by his exertions, turned
from the table and looked out of the window, with that
agreeable, somewhat absent expression, which gives so
many Austrian nobles an air of supreme and unquestion-
able distinction.

The Colonel explained the position to Zillner. * Here,*
he said, pointing to a zigzag line of blue flags, * is the
general position of the army ; we have, as you see, ad-
vanced continually. Our corps is here, a frontal group
in the centre, and our advanced posts have to-day pene-
trated up to the river itself. The enemy has retired to
the farther bank. In a couple of days we shall be ready
to cross ; the plans are being made out at this moment.*
He waved a hand towards the busily occupied heads at
the tables round. ' Should the enemy attempt any
serious resistance, which is hardly likely to be the case,
we shall force the passage.'

* I rather fancy. Colonel,' put in the Prince in a tone
of easy familiarity, * that we are pressing him back
already. Our airmen report this morning that he is
hurrj'ing supplies to the rear. It will be something of
a — er — ^a "fausse couche " for him here.*

164 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

* So much the better/ said the Colonel.

There was a small apartment adjoining the billiard-
room, where the apparatus of the telegraph department
clicked and rattled, and phonetic warning signals sounded
like toy trumpets. From here, the product of all this
mental power was transmitted to the troops in the field,
the weary, filthy, and verminous men in the trenches
were injected with energy from a distance, till they
raised their heads and looked out over the sluggish river,
on the farther bank of which the enemy stared back
at them. The apparatus ticked, the telephones called
insistently : ' Be prepared — ^be prepared ! '

At five o'clock the entire staff sat down together in
the dining-hall of the chateau, a great room decorated in
white and gold. Tall mirrors hung on the walls, the
ceiling was ornamented with costly sculpture work.
The noble Count who owned the place, preferring him-
self to follow the war from a distance, had given his
steward instructions to show every courtesy to the officers
quartered upon him. And the horseshoe table was
resplendent with white damask, splendid vases full of
roses from the conservatories, and an array of crystal
glasses. The more material welfare of the present
inmates was entrusted to the care of a portly lieutenant
of infantry, who was delighted at having removed his
embonpoint so far from the privations of the front, and
threw himself with the greatest zeal into his work.
Zillner was astonished. Was this active service ?
Close in touch with the enemy, and only a few kilometres
away from the wretched hovels where the troops found
shelter ? Beer drawn from the cask frothed in costly
glasses, bottles of claret and Gumpoldskirchner stretched
their slender necks, the room was filled with the perfume
of roses. The whole seemed like a sudden transforma-
tion scene, the work of some merry sprite from the
days of peace, when feasts were made to celebrate
promotion and honours conferred. But the wine
was there to taste, and the beer, cooled to a nicety.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER leS

proved it was no illusion. The dishes were excellently
prepared, from the hors d'oeuvre to the roast veal and
the partridges.

' Do you always live like this ? ' he inquired of Prince
Rabenegg, who sat at his side.

' Of course, mon cher,' mumbled the Prince, with his
mouth full. ' He manages pretty well, our good Zangerl.
If on]y he could have got hold of a cook that really knew
his work. The fellow we have is from Zacher's,^ it is
true, but . . . To-day, for instance, those wufs pochds —
really very poor. He is quite incapable at times. A
la maitre, he calls it. Simply ridiculous ! Didn't you
notice it ? ' Zillner had not. ' Really, you surprise
me. A la maitre — that is to say, in chicken broth
flavoured with sherry and just a touch of bitter. Now
that mess we had to-day — ^where was the sherry ? And
the bouillon. . . . Simply impertinent 1 '

The General sat at the end table, a typical Austrian
officer with his fresh, florid face. The rest of the staff
were seated at the side tables, and thoughtfully occupied
with their meal. Opposite Zillner was the portly head
of the medical department, and next to him a supply
officer with a yellow face, who suffered from liver, and
was digging peevishly at a cold chicken. At the lower
end were the volunteer motor drivers, typical Vienna
manufacturers, and the General's aide-de-camp. They
were talking of the military situation. The general
opinion was optimistic ; north and south the flanks of
the army had gained ground. The besieged, fortress
might soon hope to be relieved. And the kaiserl. und
konigl. administration had been re-established through-
out the whole of the reconquered territory. Once at
the river . . . and so on.

The glasses rang merrily. It was Eldorado, thought
Zillner. Eldorado I And not far away, only a few
thousand paces off, were the men in the trenches, writh-
ing in mud and cold. No ringing of wineglasses there !
Only the whip-lash of command. Here were the drivers,
' A Vienna restaurant^ famous for its kitchen.

166 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

feasting at their ease, and there the beasts of burden,
straining their hardened limbs. . . . Eldorado I

They had reached dessert, when another staff ofi&cer
entered the room. It was Lieutenant-Colonel von
Reehtentan, a thin man with a squint. He was
splashed with mud from head to heels, and walked with
rapid strides up to the Chief of Staff, and gave a message
in a low voice. The Chief of Staff looked up in surprise,
nodded, shook his head, and resumed his previous atti-
tude and expression.

The General glanced at the new-comer. ' Been out in
the mud. Colonel, I see. Anything new ? '

* Yes, your Excellency. The Russians have this
afternoon sent a small force across the river to the
ground occupied by the Buttler infantry, though the
orders most distinctly stated . . . '

* The details later, if you please. They are still on
this side of the river ? '

* Yes. The Buttlers have fallen back on the second
line of defence. I would respectfully suggest that the
battalion commander responsible . . .'

' Later on, later on. . . .'

A flicker of displeasure crossed the Colonel's face ;
he pressed his lips together, and answered in a low voice,
* As your Excellency pleases.'

Coffee was served, and his Excellency made a sign to
intimate that they might smoke.

* Altogether inconceivable I ' said the last-comer to
the captain at his side. ' Can't imagine what he was
thinking of, I 'm sure. With a loss of hardly thirty per
cent., he falls back, and actually declares that the
position was untenable. If I had my way — well, I 'd
have that battalion commander tried by court martial.
One must keep the troops better in hand — they will lose
all perception of the situation.'

* Quite agree with you — exactly what I always say ;
keep 'em in hand,' assented the captain, a young man,
with a puffy weak face.

* If I were his corps commander, I would order him to

CAPTAIN ZILLN^R 16f

retake the position by storm this very day — ^if it cost
the whole battalion to do it. What are the men for,
if not to fight ? ' The Colonel bit the tip of his cigar
angrily, and his divergent eyes flashed.

* Precisely,' agreed he of the puffy face. ' Quite
agree. . . .'

General von Kreutzen liked to take a hand at cards
in the library after dinner. Messages of importance
could be brought to him there ; it was frequently neces-
sary, in issuing the orders for the evening, to ^efer to the
G^eneral himself. The staff withdrew to the billiard-
room, and work was resumed. The telegraph clicked,
and the warning signals uttered their little tin trumpet
blasts as before.

His Excellency played taroc with his aide-de-camp,
the senior medical officer, and the head of the supplies.
The cards fluttered busily, and meanwhile the table was
cleared in the dining-room. An hour later Colonel
Tramhuber came in with a black portfolio under his arm;

' Reports just in, your Excellency.'

* Anything important ? '

* Well, yes, your Excellency.'

* All right, fire away, Colonel, and let us have it.
Doctor, it 's your lead.'

' KJravicek's brigade reports that the bridging opera-
tions ordered to be carried out have broken down for
the time being, owing to the fire of the enemy's artillery.
The leader of the pioneer company and twelve men
fallen.'

His Excellency looked up. * There is some one to
take his place, I suppose ? What was his name ? '

' Barabas, your Excellency.'

' Barabas ? Extraordinary name. A good man ? '

* Very, your Excellency. Recently decorated for
bravery in the field.'

' Really — a pity. Come along. Doctor, out with it.
Anything else ? '

* I have ventured to send out instructions, subject
to your Excellency's approval, to the brigade to remain

168 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

for the present in the front line, and hold the position.
We could then, in a day or so, renew the attempt to
cross in collapsible boats, or on rafts.'

' Very good. We can talk that over to-morrow.
Furtner ' — ^this to his aide, who was studying his cards
with a frown — ' you 're a deuce of a time making up
your mind. . . . Nothing else, you said ? '

* The troops are very short of bread, it seems. The
same thing reported from several quarters.'

' Ah — here 's the man for that.' The General waved
a hand towards the head of the supplies. The officer
indicated — he of the liver complaint — thrust a yellow
face out from his gold-embroidered collar. ' Your
Excellency will permit me to explain. We cannot bake
bread without floor. . . .'

' But there ought to be flour, sir. There is always
trouble about the bread. You will kindly make the
requisite arrangements at once.'

* Your Excellency, the transport . . .'

' Well, what about the transport. But, play, man,
play, and let us get on. There I I knew it was
there. The devil's own luck I The transport, you
said . . . ?'

* Why, your Excellency, the state of the roads . . .
and the late reorganisation cost us a lot of material, as
you know.'

* Well, well, we must look into it to-morrow. I must
get to the bottom of this. No, you don't — that 's mine.
Anything more ? ' His Excellency was beginning to
grow impatient.

* The Collaltos report forty per cent, sick — chiefly
trench fever and dysentery — but there are also cases of
typhus and cholera.'

* That 's for you, Doctor. Forty per cent. — it 's
scandalous.'

The senior medical officer's shining brow darkened.
* Your Excellency, urgent representations were made three
weeks ago as to the need of a fresh supply of blankets.
And the division commanders have been instructed to

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 169

take every precaution with regard to the sanitary arrange-
ments— ^the latrines in particular . . .'

' Oh, pardon, really, you know, just after dinner. . . .
But, of course, the sanitary arrangements must be looked
into, and without delay, if you please. Furtner, you
again ? Why, man, whatever are you thinking about ?
With a hand like that . . . well, well. . . . Anything
else ? '

' One most important thing, your Excellency — the
regrettable affair which Colonel von Rechtentan reported
this evening. I would respectfully suggest that the
position ought never to have been abandoned at that
stage, and should be recaptured immediately, at any
cost.'

' I will ride out and look at the position myself to-
morrow morning. The Colonel and Captain Zillner will
go with me. Horses at nine, if you please. Is that all ? '

' Yes, your Excellency.'

The General leaned back in his deep chair with an air
of intense relief. ' Well, then, that 's done with.' But
he was not fated to go on with his game undisturbed.
The Chief of Staff was just leaving the room when he ran
up against the flag-sticking Prince, who entered at the
same moment, with a slip of paper in one hand. ' Tele-
phone message, just come through. Important.'

The Colonel read it through, and swung round into the
room again. * Pardon, your Excellency. Kravicek's
brigade report the enemy bombarding their position
with heavy artillery. Serious losses. The Brigadier
would like to know whether he is to keep his men there,
or fall back upon the second line of defence ? '

* Fall back ? Unheard of. We do not fall back, sir,
in this corps. Reinforcements to-morrow — instruct the
Brigadier accordingly. And now, gentlemen, if you
please . . . Haha ! ' The General turned to the table
once more, rubbing his hands.

There was a whir and clatter in the telegraph room,
where signals were being sent out into the night. And in
the distant farmhouses, overworked adjutants sprang to

170 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

the telephone receivers and heard : * Hold the position
at "any cost — ^no falling back — ^reinforcements to-
morrow. . . .' And the order was passed on, down to
the very bank of the dark river, where grimy soldiers
lay digging with hand and spade into the pitiful earth,
that they might creep into its shelter. ' At any
cost . . .' — ^the order that sent helpless men to their
death. They knew not whence it came ; only that it
had come, rushing upon them through the night. And
so they dug. Crusted and caked with dirt, their
fingers bleeding, they toiled on at their battered de-
fences, still under the fire of heavy guns — ' hold the
position ' . . . ay, hold it. . . . God help them I

The General, in his palace at the rear, yawned slightly,
and decided it was time to go to bed.

A little cavalcade halted by the windmill on the top
of a little hill which rose gradually up from the wide,
silvery -dewed fields below, with their tracery of ditches
and little zigzag roads. Here and there a farm, or a
village, surrounded by trees, looked down on to the great
river.

' There, was it ? Yes, I see, I see.' His Excellency
followed through his glass the direction indicated by the
ColoneFs pointing finger. ' Over there by the poplars —
yes.' A row of trees appeared as a line, the thickness of
a hair, merging into the horizon.

* That is the spot, your Excellency. The enemy
crossed there yesterday, and is now occupying the posi-
tion formerly held by the second battalion of the
Buttlers. The regiment holds the ground from there.'
Colonel von Rechtentan waved an arm to show the
extent involved. ' On the right are the CoUalto in-
fantry, with their line running straight on from there.'

In the far distance, where the great river lay behind
dark meadows, a desultory rifle fire was faintly audible.
Now and again the dull boom of a heavy gun floated
heavily through the thick air of the autumn morning.
His Excellency lowered his glass. * On the right — the

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 171

Collaltos, you say. H'm. Yes, they are good men.
Very regrettable affair, the enemy 's breaking in hke
that. Thirty per cent., was it not, the Buttlers lost ? '

* Only thirty per cent., and then fell back,' said the
Colonel disgustedly. He seemed to take it as a personal
affront to himself. ' Altogether unwarrantable 1 What
he should have done . . . ' Suddenly little white
clouds appeared in the sky not far from the windmill.
Far up, and quite harmless as yet, but still. . . . Aha I
Closer now — and the first report of the bursting shrapnel
is heard.

* They 've sighted us, it seems,' said his Excellency,
with a smile. Then — sss — the rush of a shell overhead,
and this time it burst behind them.

Colonel von Rechtentan changed colour. * Your
Excellency,' he stammered, 'pray do not expose your-
self . . . your own safety . . . ' And, turning his
horse, he galloped off.

The General waved his hand. ' Trot, my dear Colonel,
trot.'

The spendthrift of battalions obeyed ; but his face
was very pale. Zillner smiled scornfully, recollecting
how bravely this man had talked in the billiard -room the
night before. ' Scandalous affair, the Buttlers falling
back like that ! A battalion — and what is a battalion
more or less I I would sacrifice a whole regiment if the
tactical situation demanded. One cannot win battles
without loss.' And when some one had mentioned twelve
per cent, casualties, he murmured : ' Charmant, char-
mant ! ' adding that it was a pity the idlers of the staff
never came under fke themselves. ' Seem to forget they
are at war at all.' The Colonel's divergent eyes glanced
for a moment at Zillner, and the yellow face flushed.
Zillner wondered if the other had guessed his thought.
After all, he did not care.

The party trotted homewards, under a sky now once
more safely devoid of little white clouds. In the court-
yard of the ch&teau, on the steps leading up to the house,
stood a man in civilian dress, with a grey cloth cap, and

172 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

khaki puttees, with a camera and a big compass slung
at his side. He raised his cap and bowed politely to the
General as he passed up the steps, and addressed him-
self to Zillner. ' Pardon me — my name is Finkenschlag,
of the United Press. I have a recommendation to the
Colonel from his colleague there, and I should be ex-
tremely obliged if you could assist me. . . .*
' In what way ? '

* Well, if you could put me in the way of a little
personal experience of shell fire. ... I 've never seen
so much as a shrapnel at close quarters.'

' But why ? ' Zillner studied the man with some
amusement. He was clean-shaven, wore a gold pince-
nez, and had dark melancholy eyes.

' Well, you know, between ourselves — ^we war corre-
spondents are rather out of it in this war. The editors
are always asking for something sensational and thrilling,
and here we are packed away ever so far to the rear, and
never see a thing.'

* But you write all the same ? '

* We have to write something, of course. But for a
war correspondent. ... I assure you, sir, we are simply
out of it all. Give them a little sentiment now and
again, the spirit of war, life of the soldier in the field,
and all that — but it 's not enough. The public want
more. May come across a hero invahded from the
trenches, and interview him — there 's always copy in
that, if you know how to handle it yourself, but — well,
you don't get that every day, and in the meantime,
we 're eating our heads off, doing simply nothing.'

Zillner shrugged his shoulders. ' I don't s^e how I
can . . .'

The pressman caught him by the sleeve, and whispered
in a tone of confidential entreaty : ' I '11 tell you what
you could do. Get me a permit for the front, the real
front, you understand, where the fighting 's actually
going on — shot and shell and thunder of guns, you know,
and all that. And take a few photos. . . .'

* I '11 speak to the Colonel about it, if you like.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 178

* Thanks, thanks. I 'm really eternally obliged.
Oh, it 's a dog's life, I assure you I You get a wire
from the Chief. " Fighting going on, send some-
thing real." And there you are at the rear. How
is a man to . . .'

* But for a professional writer, surely the
imagination . . . '

' No good, sir. You can't draw on that indefinitely.
Make five columns of print out of half a column of stuff —
all very well, but it 's not war correspondence, you know.
Have to be in the thick of it, before you can get the
proper tone. You see what I mean ? '

* I understand. Wait here a moment, Herr . . . ? '

* Finkenschlag. Finkenschlag of the Grosses JournaV
Zillner turned to go. But Herr Finkenschlag caught

him once more by the sleeve, and with the other hand
drew out a notebook from his pocket. ' Excuse me —
just one moment. We have a special column : " Deeds
of heroism at the front." You haven't a deed or so you
could let me have ? Something brisk and thrilling, in
the good old Austrian style, you know what I mean ?
Think.'

Zillner shook his head. ' Afraid I can't oblige you.'

' Oh, I 'm sorry. Nothing at all, you 're sure ?
Nothing of your own, for instance ? " Staff officer's
race with death," or something like that ? ■ No ? Well,
never mind.'

Herr Finkenschlag stepped aside resignedly, and
Zillner hurried up the steps. A few minutes later he
returned : the Chief of Staff had considered the matter,
and in recognition of the loyal attitude hitherto main-
tained by the press, which, on the one hand . . . while
on the other hand . . . etc., had granted the desired
permission. An open letter authorised the war corre-
spondent of the Grosses Journal to follow the operations
for three days, from the headquarters of a divisional
staff.

Herr Finkenschlag was profoundly grateful. ' Thanks,
a thousand thanks ! Delighted to reciprocate at any

174 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

time.* And off he drove in a Jew-cart, with an orderly
officer as driver, to the front, the real front, where the
fighting was actually going on.

About noon, his Excellency entered the billiard-room,
glanced casually at the reports, inspected the work of
the flag-sticking Prince, and walked up and down for a
while with his hands behind his back. Then he took out
his case and selected a cigarette ; the watchful Zapperer
tripped elegantly up and offered a light. His Excellency
blew smoke through his nose, and said : * Ha ! ' Then
he thought for a moment, and went on : ' Yes. In-
struct the division. Collaltos will at once proceed to
recapture the position now occupied by the enemy force
which got in yesterday on their left. The attack to be
carried out with the utmost energy and force ; the
position to be taken at the point of the bayonet. I will
watch the operations from the tower.' The little tin
trumpets spoke, and the order was passed on. . . .

Over in the village where the section reserves of the
Collaltos were at dinner, came a sudden stir. Officers
hurried about, and the men were called from their meal.
The soup was emptied out from the canteens, a last
chunk of meat was thrust between the teeth, with a
piece of bread to follow, and the men hurried into the
outbuildings for their rifles and knapsacks, swallowing
as they ran. The battalion formed up, the Colonel and
the Adjutant came hurrying down the village street,
both looking very grave.

' Battalion commanders, if you please.'

A young Major, who had arrived the day before from
the * hinterland,* with a battalion of new recruits, caught
the Colonel's eye, and begged permission to lead his
men to the attack.

The Colonel looked at him long and earnestly. Then
he nodded.

' Forward. God with us ! '

The lines fluttered out in open order over the wet
fields.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 176

' The poplars there ; on to the poplars ! ' cried the young
Major. ' Follow me I '

The storming party raced on . . . on. . . . There
came a scornful rattle from the poplars : tatatatata
— the infernal organ of the machine-guns — a whole
orchestra.

The sturdy, red -cheeked fellows look and race
on, over the drenching grass ; the ground ahead
lies flat as a board between them and their goal.
Volleys, like an avalanche of pebbles. A ditch —
down into it. The lines disappear, and the men
halt under cover to get their breath. The support-
ing artillery sends futile missiles into the grey streak
by the poplars.

• ••••••

His Excellency clambered up into the belfry of the
church in rear of the chateau. It was a trying climb.
There is little to be seen after all ; the distance is too
great. But the General can see that the attack is at a
standstill ; there is no dark line to be seen moving
forward over the green. Only the bare field. And a
faint crackling of firing. His Excellency is displeased.
What do they mean by it ?

Out in the ditch, the young Major sprang up with
flashing eyes, and called to his men, ' Forward ! '

And again they dashed on.

* Aha ! ' exclaimed his Excellency in the church tower.
* Aha I At last.'

' Tatataiatatatataiatatata.'

A storm of lead sweeps over them from the poplars.
The flashing eyes grow dull. A soldier's voice gasps out
once more the last word, ' Forward I ' — then chokes and
is dumb.

The attacking column drops to the ground, and is not
to be forced on. And in that bleeding mass of human
beings, each man whose heart still beats, whose arm can
still be raised in answer to his will, is digging, digging
at the earth to hack out some shelter against the de-

176 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

vastating shower poured on them from the poplars three
hundred yards away.

' What do you say to that ? ' grumbled his Excellency,
in the church tower, to his Chief of Staff. * They 're
not getting on. They won't get through at all, you '11
see. A pretty mess. Ugh ! ' The General felt him-
self aggrieved.

The recruits had received their baptism of fire. And
most of them were buried that same night under the
alders outside the village. The young Major and ten
officers were among them. A mound of only half-slain
could be dragged off to hospital.

At the chdteau in the rear, his Excellency's card party
was practically spoiled by the news brought in by a
captured Russian infantry captain. The group under
the poplars would, he stated, have been forced to sur-
render within two days at the outside, being isolated
from the rest, and cut off from connection with the rear.
They had already no food left.

* Really most annoying ! ' said his Excellency. ' But
how were we to know that ? '

It was now a fortnight since Zillner had been appointed
to the staff. He drew his sketch maps, accompanied
his Excellency occasionally on reconnaissances ; for the
rest, he felt himself as an alien in the guild of creative
artists. His soul ached with the cold-bloodedness of
it all. About him, high brows and low worked away as
before, still intent upon their lofty tasks, but there was
a nervous twitching of the eyes that one could not fail
to note. The vertical furrows on their foreheads had
grown deeper, and a restless anxiety hovered about
the room where they sat at work. The crossing of the
great river had still to be effected ; the enemy on the
farther bank stood entrenched in strongly fortified posi-
tions ; a brigade had attempted to cross on rafts, but
had been repulsed with terrible loss. Pontoons had
likewise proved of no avail. The enemy's artillery was

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 177

numerous, and had got the range to a nicety ; any
attempt at engineering construction on the bank was
immediately destroyed. The hostile forces lay in their
trenches on either bank, keeping up a continual inter-
change of fire. Individual zeal found vent in the con-
tinual sniping which generally takes place in such a
position, but the front remained unchanged. The final
blow must inevitably be struck on one of the flanks, and
both sides concentrated forces at either end of their
line with that end in view ; in the south, in the direction
of the besieged fortress,^ and in the north.

Zillner noted with astonishment that the creative
artists of the staff unanimously maintained the advisa-
bility of holding the position as it was, and proceeding
with operations from there. The river was too broad
for the lash of command to force the wearied men across
at a bound, but the whip played over them ceaselessly
all the same. The drivers at the rear continued to urge
on the wearied beasts in front ; no rest, no falling back ;
struggle on I If the river could not be crossed for the
present, then mark time. The telegraph ticked, and the
telephones shouted : * Use every effort to improve the
position meantime.* All save the men actually in the
firing line were employed to the limit of their powers upon
the second line of defence. In the daytime, the work here
was seriously disturbed by the enemy's artillery. And
accordingly, the telephones called for night work. The
nights were to be utilised to the utmost. But lest the
toiling beasts should forget that the need of other exer-
tion might arise at any moment, the lash commanded
regularly every day : ' Hold the troops in readiness to
advance at a moment's notice. An attempt will prob-
ably be made to cross to-morrow.'

* At a moment's notice.' That is to say, the men were
to fall in at three o'clock in the morning, with full kit.
By eight, it was decided that no attempt would be made
that day. The men were suffered to lay aside their
rifles and equipment, and fall to at their spade work

* Przemysl.

IT'S CAPTAIN ZILLNER

once more. Thus tlie whips in conclave in the billiard -
room decreed, and watched impatiently for further
developments. The waggon had stuck fast ; the beasts
that should have hauled it forward without a pause stood
pawing the ground, with trembling limbs and heaving
flanks, unable to move on. And Zillner's soul ached with
the cold-bloodedness of it all. . . .

' This is infernally slow, you know,' said Lieutenant-
Colonel von Rechtentan impatiently, slapping the calf
of his polished riding boot. ' Been here a fortnight now,
and wasting ammunition to no purpose. If I were his
Excellency, I 'd give them a touch of the spur. The
men are getting demoralised, and the general ilan, the
spirit, of the army, is dwindling to nothing. No. If it
lay with me, I 'd send a brigade with orders to cross at
any cost. A regiment or two — it would be cheap at the
price. Then the rest to follow — ^and there you are.'

A flame of fire shot up in Zillner's heart ; a fury of
rage against this man in the polished boots, so ready ta
sacrifice the lives of others, so miserably careful of his
own. His fists clenched, and a voice within him cried
out against the mean little soul behind those hateful
eyes ; the man was not worthy to unloose the shoes of
the poorest soldier in the ranks of those who gave their
lives at his call. But Captain Zillner, being an obedient
soldier, bowed his head over his papers, and strove with
himself, forcing himself not to look at the man — not to
look. ...

The flag-sticking Prince, too, went about in evident
displeasure. He hovered round his big map, impatient
to make some alteration ; it was disgusting to have the
lines there in exactly the same place for a whole fortnight.
A whole fortnight, and not a move 1 Having nothing
else to do, however, he generally drifted across to the
stables, and occupied himself teaching his thoroughbreds
to pick lumps of sugar neatly from between his lips. And
here he might encounter the equally voluntary motorist,
yawning beside his eighty horse-power car.

* Ah, my dear Loebl — dreadfully dull, isn't it ?

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 179

War 's really not so exciting as they say. Wonder
what they 're doing at the Jockey Club now ? If this
beastly business doesn't finish soon, there '11 be nobody
left to take a hand at poker when we get back.'

' Rotten time,' agreed his companion in adversity.
And the two hung about in company, listening idly to
the distant mutter of the guns.

One morning the Russian batteries fell to bombarding
some farmhouses where the reserves were quartered,
and set them on fire. There seemed to be a certain
method in the operation, for houses where there were no
troops were spared. The question was debated at length
during dinner, but finally his Excellency gave his casting
vote for the theory that it was merely coincidence. And
the heads of the staff bowed gracefully in assent. The
squinting Colonel was particularly anxious to appear
of the same opinion, as was also Zapperer, whose face
put on an expression which would have done for St.
John listening to the voice of his Master. . . .

That evening Zillner went down into the village. The
little houses on either side of the street were wrapped in
darkness, with no sign of life or movement, save for the
willows and alders whispering sorrowfully up to the
dark sky. Close by, a dog was baying into the silence,
and from the river came a continual faint drizzle of
musketry. Zillner felt the strife in his soul anew.
Voices that had been silent for many days wakened now,
thronged in upon him, crying aloud to him out of the
dark, as on the day when Karl Albert Kraft had driven
a shaft of light down to the sunless mazes of his con-
sciousness. Have faith, and never lose it ! — it was the
only way. Ah, yes — those days had been bright enough ;
he had thought his doubts at rest once and for all, had
seen the radiant bow set in the east. And no other
thought had troubled the concentration of his purpose :
have faith ! With an intense, calm happiness, such as
he had not known even in that grandly victorious
August afternoon, he had dreamed on — on through all

180 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

the misery and death and burning desolation, into the
wonder of the rainbow itself, until — ^until the day when
he had come into all this. This palace, where senseless
pride, coupled with a vain energy and an extravagant
prodigality of human lives, united to destroy the cost-
liest element that still remained to those suffering
masses of men ; the generous, unhesitating instinct of
self-sacrifice.

The sceptic voices rang in his ears anew — and this
time his soldier spirit had no longer the power to silence
them. Faintly he bade them cease ; he would hold by
his faith to the last ; die it might be, but hope to the
very last. And the voices were silenced for a moment.
Then one keen scornful whisper began again : * Incur-
able optimist ; still dancing on the rope of a foolish
faith ? Which is the better thing : Prince Rabenegg's
thoroughbred or the lives of ten unknown soldiers ?
Which is the greater, which would be the deeper loss ?
The man would mourn for his horse, but over the grave
of the fallen soldiers not even a breath of thanks would
acknowledge their sacrifice. Consider, the beast is a
trained irreplaceable creature, a virtuoso, able to execute
wonders of technique upon the course. And the ten
men — ^what are they ? Human beings, and that is all !
The next draft from the depot will bring twenty for each
of them, but who is to replace the horse ? Incurable
optimist,' the voice went on, ' rope-dancing fool ! who
bade your heart suffer with those poor nameless ones ?
Once you, too, spoke of War as the great deliverer, that
should clear away the pettiness of the too easy days, and
call up greater things in its stead. War ! In times of
peace, even the meanest unit in the crowd is carried to
the grave with kindly words. But here — your great
deliverer thrusts heroes unnumbered into the common
grave and covers them callously in haste. Quicklime is
their portion, there are no laurels for those who fall in
the service of the great deliverer.' But Zillner's soul
roused itself and cried : ' You lie. They live, and are
not forgotten.' ' True,' returned the whisper scorn-

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 181

fully. * The phrase will dig up here and there a corpse,
cover it with spangled trappings, and hang bells upon
it to ring out the story of great deeds . . . put into his
mouth words that he never spoke or thought, raise
him on stilts that he himself had never needed, and lo,
a picture for the patriotic Children's Reader 1 One
of the many may be dealt with thus. But the rest ?
They may lie there in their thousands, and rot unknown.

Zillner wrung his hands, raised them in agonised appeal
towards heaven, stared out into the wilderness of the
dark, and cried, * Help me, my God ! '

And lo, a star shone out. A star low in the sky, and
near. He gazed at it in wonder. A star — in a sky
black with cloud. One star in all the jBrmament — ^and
now ? What could it mean ? The light died out.
Then suddenly it was there again — ^gone — again — ^again
... in little flashes, longer flashes. . . .

It was the Morse code. Dots and dashes perseveringly
flashed through the darkness. There, on the church
tower, was that wondrous star, flashing out dots and
dashes into the light.

Zillner hurried to the guard-house, called out a patrol,
and set off at once towards the church. The door lead-
ing to the stairway was ajar, a verger stood within. He
turned to run up the stairs as the soldiers entered, but
ZUlner caught him by the shoulder. ' Silence I Or . . .'
he pointed to the bayonets of his men. Then, beckoning
to the corporal to follow, he ascended the winding stair.
The belfry was in darkness ; Zillner took out his pocket
lamp, and flashed it round the place. And there,
huddled up in a comer, was the village priest.

* Ah, a reverend man at his prayers. At prayers,
were you not ? '

* Mercy ! For the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ . . .
mercy, mercy I ' cried the priest, holding his hands before
his ashen face. He was a portly man of about fifty.

Zillner searched the floor with his lamp ; the lantern
had disappeared.

* What have you done with it ? Where is that Star

182 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

of Bethlehem you had set in the sky to guide the
Russians ? Eh ? '

' Mercy, I did not . . . Heaven have mercy. . . .
Oh . . . ' And the shepherd of souls fell on his knees
as if in prayer.

Zillner stepped back and looked at the man as he
knelt. ' Heaven is not merciful to traitors,' he said
sternly, and trembling with passion. ' Where is the
lantern ? Bring it out or . . . Do you wish to die
on the spot ? '

The huddled figure moaned. ' Holy Virgin, help me ! '
He fumbled with shaking fingers at the buttons of his
frock, and drew out an acetylene cycle lamp, with a
movable cardboard shade.

' I see.' Zillner held out the darkened star at arm's
length. ' You have been telegraphing texts from Holy
Scripture, that is all ? '

The traitor's eyes brightened for a moment with
something like a gleam of hope. This terrible officer was
jesting — he smiled. . . . Perhaps, after all. . . .

He plucked up courage. * I swear by the living God —
I was only asking my colleague in the next village — to— 7
to come and dine with me — ^yes, to dine with me on
Sunday. I am a good Austrian, I swear it. . . .'

A strong hand grasped him by the scruff of the neck,
and thrust him towards the window opening that faced
towards the river.

* We can see what he says then,* retorted Zillner
grimly. On the other side, a like star flashed and faded,
flashed and faded ; a tiny speck busily coming and
going. The Russians were at a loss to understand the
interruption of their pleasant conversation.

' Mercy, mercy 1 I swear by the living God . . .'
. * Enough 1 Down — ^this way, sharp 1 ' And Zillner
thrust the man of God before him down the stairs.

His Excellency was most indignant on learning of the
little intermezzo. Of course, it explained several little
things that had occurred lately — ^the bombarding of the
farmhouses, for instance, which had been conducted with

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 188

such surprising precision. The priest and his verger
were brought up for examination the same night. The
house was ransacked, and a whole arsenal of Russian
firearms discovered, with a huge store of provisions ;
apparatus for a subterranean telegraph connection was
found in the cellar. The traitors were convicted on the
spot, and next morning set up against the churchyard
wall and shot. The priest himself had to be tied to a
tree ; he would not stand, but rolled about on the
ground, curled up like a hedgehog, refusing to look death
in the face. Both of them died as miserable cowards,
with the name of the Crucified on their lips.

The same day a lengthy proclamation was distilled
in the billiard-room, by the united efforts of many
zealous minds, and addressed to all the authorities whom
it might concern. The unpleasant episode itself was
briefiy referred to, but the conclusions to be drawn
therefrom were dwelt upon most earnestly. Much was
said about the manner in which treachery had of late
ventured boldly to raise its head ; how this was due to
the lack of sufficiently rigorous preventive measures
which were of vital importance to an army in the field,
attention was called to the necessity of inflexible stern-
ness on the one hand . . . while, on the other hand,
the sense of responsibility ... it would be culpable,
again, to risk disaster by over-credulity . . . the
strictest examination into every case where any sus-
picion had arisen . . . the keenest watchfulness under
all circumstances where any such cases might arise . . .
officers to act with discretion, but, on the other hand,
to be constantly on their guard, and unhesitatingly
pursue any indication tending . . . etc.

Thus the treachery of the priest was dealt with to the
best advantage.

That afternoon, Lieutenant-Colonel von Rechtentan
came striding in angrily, evidently in the highest dis-
pleasure. ' Unheard of 1 ' he cried. ' Altogether be-
yond precedent I Company officers, if you please,

184 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

venturing to discuss and criticise the orders they receive.
A nice state of things I *

Furrowed brows were lifted from their work, and
paper-wearied eyes looked up inquiringly. Von Rech-
tentan squinted sharply across at Zillner, who sat bent
over his sketching as before. ' Unheard of, gentlemen 1
I had gone out, at his Excellency's request, to inspect
the second line of defence occupied by Kravicek's
brigade. In the Buttlers' section, I noticed several
of the captains standing in a group by the trenches —
there was a major with them too. And then, slipping
unperceived behind a bush, I heard — ^well, I can only
say the most scandalous conversation that could be
imagined.* The listeners pricked up their ears ; Zapperer
composed his mobile features into an expression d la
NapoUon writing the death-warrant of the traitors.
Von Rechtentan went on : ' They were discussing us,
if you please. One of the captains, who seemed to be
the ringleader, ventured to express the opinion that the
constant state of preparation was merely a ridiculous
nuisance. Our dispositions he was pleased to regard as
an eternal fumbling about in the dark. And then — I
give you the fellow's very words : " All this about
probably attempting to cross to-morrow is either bottle-
green humbug, to keep the men from ever getting a
moment's rest, or it 's just pure lunacy. If the bottle-
greens really think anything can ever be done after
their last fiasco " — ^and the others agreed. Fiasco ! . . .
humbug ! That is the way these ignorant idlers in the
trenches venture to speak of our dispositions, while we
are devoting our whole energy and intelligence to the
conduct of the campaign. It 's simply abominable ! '

The energetic and intelligent listeners expressed their
indignation. * Abominable indeed I ' said the puffy-
faced young man.

Von Rechtentan went on, fixing his eyes sternly upon
Zillner. ' It would be well if the blockheads could be
taught, once and for all, that their inferior minds are
not called upon to criticise the actions of their superiors

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 185

in the scientific conduct of the war. I would have
them brought before a court-martial on the spot. A
firing party — that is the only way to deal with would-be
critics of that sort. Shoot them down, and serve them
right. The army is the instrument appointed to carry
out the plans conceived by a higher intelligence — ^not to
dispute them.'

Once more the divergent eyes sought Zillner's, and
this time the Captain met their glance. Zillner sprang
to his feet, and his face flushed darkly. ' I would respect-
fully beg you, sir, not to speak in that manner of the
troops to which I have the honour to belong.'

' Indeed, sir ? Am I to understand that you identify
yourself with officers who presume to criticise their
superiors ? ' The Colonel folded his arms, and stared
superciliously at the upstart. ' You take their part —
very well.'

* I merely wish to point out, sir, that the men you
speak of are neither blockheads nor ignorant idlers, but
brave and devoted soldiers who are not afraid to . . .'

' To question the dispositions of the General Staff ? *

* The General Staff, sir, may devote its energy and
intelligence to the service — they give their lives. And
men who give their lives may well be tempted to ask
what is to be done with them. It is only natural.'

' It may seem natural to you, sir. I call it un-
military.'

* The lives of men have been wasted like water
through this campaign. It is hard on those who are
willing to die — they ask to be led, not merely sacrificed.*

' May I ask what you mean by that, sir ? '
' I am merely trying to explain what it is that tempts
men to that freedom of speech for which you, sir, would
have them shot. And I would ask you, with all respect,
what should then be done with the leaders who do not
lead, but only sacrifice those under them ? '

Zillner had spoken calmly and slowly, and stood now
coldly awaiting the other's answer. The superb intelli-
gence looked on in tense excitement, Zapperer had

186 CAPTAIN ZELLNER

adopted the pose of a Roman centurion : * Crucify
himl'

The Colonel hesitated for a moment, then said sharply:
' I do not care to putsue the discussion, thank you. I
am a plain soldier, and not accustomed to deal with
socialistic sophistries. But, after what has passed, I
hardly think that your services here will be . . .'

ZiUner smiled. ' You need not trouble, sir. I shall
apply at once to be sent back to my regiment.' He
bowed, and left the room.

The intelligent brows bent over their work once more,
a trifle more earnestly than usual. The puffy-faced
young man bowed and scraped, anxious to place his
disapproval of the heresy beyond all doubt. ' Most
extraordinary — incomprehensible! . . . But, thanks
to the Colonel's resolute action . . . silenced com-
pletely. . . .'

Zapperer looked towards the resolute suppressor of
heresy as on a glorious vision. Pose this time : ' St.
Sebastian, pierced with arrows, sees the heavens
open I *

Zillner hurried at once to the Chief of Staff, recounted
briefly what had passed, and begged to return to his
regiment. The order was made out on the spot.

Dinner that day was not a cheerful meal. His com-
panions treated him with an icy reserve. His Excel-
lency himself must have been informed already ; Zillner
fancied that the General, despite his easy manner as a
man of the world, glanced at him now and again with
displeasure. The flag-sticking Prince was the only one
who appeared undisturbed ; he chatted with the out-
cast in that tone of untroubled calm which Austrian
nobles can maintain even in the most difficult situation,
and which renders them so admirably suited for a diplo-
matic career. With delicate tact he avoided touching
upon any theme which might bring out a difference of
opinion.

' Sans mot dire, you know, a bosuf braisi d la reine is
quite a different thing. This is a beefsteak pure and

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 187

simple. Take the sauce, for instance. Can you, my
dear fellow, honestly discern the faintest soupgon of
Bordeaux in it at all ? And that, really, is the point
of the whole thing. Beef gravy is one thing — d la reine
is another. But that fool of a cook has the impertinence
to serve it up all the same. Really it is almost enough
to try one's patience. . . . boeuf d la reine ! '

CHAPTER XI

Colonel Peter Prapora was by no means pleased at
his subordinate's return. The friendly and confidential
tone in which he had notified him of his appointment was
gone. ' I am extremely surprised. Captain Zillner, that
any officer of my regiment could conduct himself so
unsatisfactorily in a post of honour. Your words to
Lieutenant-Colonel von Rechtentan were altogether
lacking in respect, and had better, under any circum-
stances, have been left unsaid. I must express my
extreme disapproval of the action you saw fit to take.
It bears witness to a turn of mind which I must confess
I had never suspected in you ; for the future, I shall feel
it my duty to observe your behaviour. I need hardly
say that any repetition of such scenes will be productive
of very serious consequences to yourself. Thank you —
you may go.'

Major Blagorski was disappointed. * My dear Zillner,'
he said reproachfully, ' what on earth have you been
doing ? The Colonel is furious. And he will be down on
you, and on the whole battalion, in consequence. It 's
really very awkward — ^very awkward indeed.'

Pfustermeyer and Grill shook hands sympathetically ;
the former was unfeignedly pleased to see him. ' Glad
to have you back again,' he said warmly. ' Quite under-
stand you didn't care to. stay. I would have done the
same thing myself. Much better leave the bottle-greens
to themselves. They 're a superior lot, and we 're only
common soldiers. But what says Schiller : ' Wir
haben die MilK und die Schmerzen, und wofiir wir uns
haUen in unseren Rerzen." You did the right thing,
my dear fellow.'

Grill took the matter with characteristic calm. * Not

118

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 189

the wisest you could have done perhaps, but still, it
wasn't half bad. Do them good.*

Crlenjak was not there ; it was his turn in the front
line trenches, and he had been out for five days by the
river bank.

' You are to relieve him to-morrow,* said Grill. * It
is down in battalion orders already. It 's no picnic,
I can tell you, sitting out there for a week at a time in
the mud.'

Zillner was not dismayed at the thought. After all,
he was a soldier once more. Let the Prince amuse him-
self with his little flags, and Zapperer take over the map
department again, and the rest of them sit and sweat
at their little tables — it was better to be a soldier.
He went over to his company. The grimy, bearded,
haggard faces smiled in welcome to their captain.
Little Andrei came hurrying out from his quarters. ' I 'm
awfully glad, sir, really — if I may say so.' And Spicka
and Prager came too. ' Why, gentlemen, here I am
again, and glad to be back. I hope we may remain
together for the future.'

The colour-sergeant hurried up, drew out a neatly
bound notebook, and proceeded to give the news of the
past few days. Some new recruits had come in ; twenty-
six of them to Company Four, besides two gendarmes.
Five of the ' old guard ' had fallen, over by the river —
shot through th6 head while in the trenches. The
company now counted a hundred and forty men.^
There was some cholera about ; there had been vaccina-
tion the day before. None of their company had shown
symptoms as yet, but twelve men of the second battalion
had died. General health pretty fair ; a little typhus,
that was all. But the bread was very bad — ^most of it
absolutely rotten. The division supplies were short,
and there was only a little flour, and that poor, to be had
in the village. The men really didn't get enough to eat.
But perhaps — the colour-sergeant hesitated — perhaps
the CaptaiQ could manage something. . . .

^ Instead of two hundred and fifty.

190 CAPTAIN ZELLNER

So Zillner found himself once more immersed in the
endless administrative details of his command ; a sea
of troublesome little matters in which a company com-
mander at the front will sink hopelessly if he have not
the head and heart to keep himself up. It needed, too,
an iron will. And Zillner was not lacking in that respect.
His heart went out to these poor grimy fellows, who were
tractable as children if only they were decently treated.
He often felt as if they had given their hearts into his
hand, young and old, with a touching confidence, that
begged him to deal kindly with them. 'We are only
poor ignorant fellows,' they seemed to say, * and you
are our leader. Do not trample on us, but be kind, and
we will bless you, and follow where you will.' For three
months now Zillner had been gradually gaining the
hearts of his men : he had lived with them through
weary nights, and faced death by their side. And now
they gathered about him once more, asking his sym-
pathy, and offering their devotion.

Zillner could not help feeling that way about his men.
Perhaps it was only a fancy of his, but still. . . . He
could look into their eyes, and see that they did not lie.
Only poor devils in the ranks, with little between them
and death — if their eyes lit up because their Captain
had come back, what could it mean but that they were
honestly glad to see him ? And that light in their eyes
was more precious to him than all the laurels and heroics
of official recognition, which, after all, springs but from
cold brains. That light in the eyes of his men was some-
thing which not all the official orders ever issued could
command. And it gladdened him to see. Suddenly
he remembered the new-comers — six-and -twenty cower-
ing little souls full of instinctive distrust. He would go
and see what he could make of them at once.

The recruits fell in, standing stiffly upright, with
fingers rigidly extended down behind their trouser
pockets, and eyes staring blankly and strainedly to
their front. One of them, a front-rank man, second
from the farther end — where had he seen that face be-

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 191

fore ? A pale, nervous face, with restless features and
black curling hair. He stepped up to the man, who was
staring blankly before him imder his ridiculous regulation
cap.

' What is your name, my man ? '

' Johann Nimmersatt.*

The dreamy blue eyes still stared straight to the
front. And suddenly Zillner remembered. This was
the fellow who . . .

' I have seen you before,' he said. ' You made a
speech at the Grabencafe in Vienna, on the night of the
2nd of August ? '

' Yes. They threw me out.'

Zillner dismissed the rest, and bade this man stay
behind. * Strange, your turning up here,' he said.
The man made no answer. ' I don't know, of course.
You may have changed your mind since then. But,
in any case — no more speeches of that kind, if you
please, among your comrades here. You understand
me?'

The dreamy blue eyes turned reluctantly back to
earth, and looked into his with a steady fire. ' Herr
Hauptmann — I have not changed. I think to-day as I
did then. I can't help it. I hate it — this massacre by
order.'

' That 's nonsense, my man. Don't let yourself be
led away by catchwords. There are things in the world
that neither you nor I can alter, whatever we may feel.
But, mark me — if I find you preaching that sort of thing
here — if you attempt to influence the men — ^you will be
severely punished.'

The boy's eyes filled with tears, and his lips trembled.
' I won't,' he whispered — ' won't say a word. I '11 do
my duty, like the rest, and go out and murder as my
brothers here must do, but I shall hate it in my soul ;
hate and curse the war, and nothing can make me feel
differently.' He was silent for a moment, and then
burst out : ' They are my brothers — and I love them all.'
His knees and hands trembled, and his voice was broken

192 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

with sobs* * Herr Hauptmann, do not suspect me.
... I will do my duty — ndo it all ... '

Zillner laid a hand encouragingly on his shoulder.
* There, I trust you, then. And now pull yourself to-
gether, like a man.'

Zillner felt the passion that burned in this young soul
lay hold upon his own. Here was a man in whose mind
another world had come into conflict with his own ; the
world whose scaffolding had been raised two thousand
years before, by a carpenter's Son, and which had not
reached beyond.

* Go along now to your quarters ; I trust you.'
The young man whispered a word of thanks and went,
A new thought dawned slowly upon Zillner's mind.
Those two worlds — ^they were not irreconcilable after all.
They met and touched at a single point — in love for the
poor and weak ones of the earth. Might not he himself,
searching into the depths of his heart, find there, pro-
fessional soldier that he was, the same conviction that
burned in the heart of this poor conscript ? No, it was
too ridiculous ! Their worlds were far removed. Had
not he but lately confirmed his faith in all that the other
hated ? True, he loved the poor and weak, as this boy
did, and hated the unfeeling hearts that sacrificed them
in vain. But there was a difference. The sacrifice
itself was to his mind a natural necessity, ancient and
lasting as humanity itself. He knew that the country
called for blood upon its altars, that it might grow rich
and powerful ; his anger was against the High Priests,
the Pharisees, and hypocrites, who led their victims
heedlessly, fruitlessly to the slaughter. No, the thought
was absurd, he would not harbour it. But it did not
leave him ; only -crept into hiding in the depths.
Thoughts that once have risen in the mind cannot die ;
they can at most be laid aside as mummied things. And
when the hour comes, they wake again, looking out with
insolent or humble eyes, as it may be.

The time came roimd for Zillner to relieve the little

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 198

Captain in his trenches. It was a cold, moonlight
evening. Silently, with the scabbards of their bayonets
muffled in straw, the men marched out through the
shimmering meadows towards the belt of thicket that
stood like a black wall in front of the river.

Nearer and nearer came the sound of musketry, de-
sultory firing from patrols exchanging shots. Day and
night it went on, and the men had grown so used to the
sound that they noticed it as little as the ticking of a
clock. It was only when the posts were relieved that
greater caution was necessary ; as soon as the Russians
perceived a detachment moving out, they flooded the
whole of the ground with a furious fire. The reliefs,
therefore, were invariably sent out by night, for the flat
country offered no cover. Quietly the foremost ranks
slipped into the shelter of the willows. Bullets were
dropping close by. Down, and listen ! No — only shots
intended for the trenches on ahead, that had passed
beyond their mark.

* Forward ! ' A few steps more through the thicket
on the river bank, and then down into the communica-
tion trench. Along this they moved, bending down to
keep under cover, and reached the full depth of the front
line trenches. A little in front lay the gleaming line
of the river itself.

The withered mannikin came hobbling painfully out'
to meet his relief. * Here you are I No news from
over there. As for me, no better. That infernal gout —
I can hardly walk. It 's beastly wet here.' Crlenjak
led the way along the trench. ' Bend down,, you 're tall
for this work. And they 've got their eye in now — ^plenty
of practice.'

The warning was well-timed. Bullets swept sharply
over the breastwork, and buried themselves with a dull
thud in the earth behind. The little man clambered
up to a slit in the bank. ' I 've got the observation
post here — there 's a good view across. The Russians
are right on the other bank, about four hundred paces.'

He pointed out the enemy's line, standing out sharply

N

194 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

in the moonlight. * The days are long, brother — ^take
it as coolly as you can. Good night ! '

The little Captain hobbled off, followed by his men,
and Zillner proceeded to install himself in his new posi-
tion. A strange life 1 Three nights ago he had been
lying in a soft bed with a silken coverlet ; now, huddled
up like a mole in the wet earth. He posted his men,
sent off patrols to either flank to make connection with
the neighbouring lines, and telephoned back to battalion
headquarters that he had taken over the section. The
men crept into the straw-lined dug-outs, curled them-
selves up, and were soon snoring. The ofi&cers stayed by
their respective commands. Zillner inspected his own
quarters — a little burrow in two compartments, the
sides shored up with planks ; he had to creep on all
fours. He could lie down at full length inside, but there
was a constant dripping of water from the roof and walls.
It was a bright starlight night. The monotonously
repeated thud of bullets striking the earthworks on all
sides was interrupted now and again by the shriek of an
owl, or by a sudden burst of firing from a machine-gun.

Zillner crept into his sleeping-bag, fell asleep at once,
and dreamed of his mother. ' Mind you don't catch
cold, my dear boy,' said the kindly, anxious voice. ' It
is very damp in here. And have you your woollen under
clothes on, and your warm socks ? Let me . . .' And
he was glad to have her there beside him, and reached out
for her hand to kiss it. But his fingers touched the
clammy wall, and he awoke.

There was a faint crackling of firing outside. A
sudden weakness came over him ; he felt almost on the
point of weeping.

Seven days and nights I Spent in a lover's arms, with
kisses and tender words, it is a little while, a time of
triumphant gladness. Or on a journey in a foreign
country, with a travelling trunk in the rack above ; all
cares thrust away into a corner of the everyday life that
is left behind, and the present full of new impressions,
rich and varied. Seven days I A trifle 1 Or sitting at

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 195

work, busied upon some problem that occupies the mind
— the hours fly past in a cloud of cigarette smoke ; the
seven days and nights are suddenly past, as in a dream,
and only the nervous reaction is left. Or seven days in
pursuit of the enemy, hurrying after as he hurries in
flight. Time and space disappear, hours, days, and
nights melt in a glow of victorious excitement. . . .
Only in the trenches, with death knocking at the door
without, or glowering down from a leaden sky, and
nothing to do but sit and wait in a world two hundred
paces long, and but a single pace wide — there, seven days
and nights drag on unendingly ! So Zillner thought,
sitting there under the dull milky grey of the autumn
sky.

Day after day crept up, shivering drowsily, sleepily,
hung with empty eyes over the trenches, and slowly
passed. Now and again a shell or so whined overhead,
on the way to some selected farmhouse in the rear. So
the time dragged on.

Prager, who was of an inventive turn of mind, had
built up a sort of stove in his dug-out, chiefly from old
meat tins. It gave out a certain amount of warmth, and
a great deal of smoke. The nights passed in visits of
inspection, and spells of broken sleep. One or two of the
men, with more initiative than the rest, used the hours
of darkness to go and dig potatoes in a field close by,
creeping out on all fours from the trench, and returning
in the same way. On one such expedition a man was
shot ; otherwise there were but few casualties. The
fallen were buried among the willows by the communi-
cation trench.

One day, Nechleba and the recruit Nimmersatt were
standing side by side on the look-out, when suddenly
they noticed a movement in the enemy position, that
lay like a huge caterpillar on the farther bank. A man
was creeping out ; he stood up, strolled over to a willow
tree close by, and began cutting twigs as calmly as could
be.

Nechleba's eyes flashed. * There 's your chance.

106 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

youngster. Pick him ofi I Aim at the knees, and you *ve
got him.*

Nimmersatt looked at him in horror. * Shoot him —
like that — in cold blood. No, no, I couldn't.*

*A11 right then, softy, I will.' The veteran threw
his rifle to his shoulder, took a careful aim, and fired.
The report rang out sharply across the water ; the
figure by the trees flung up its arms, toppled over, and
lay stretched out stiffly.

* Heart,* muttered Nechleba, with a satisfied grin.
And, turning to the recruit, he went on : * Now, you saw
the way he fell. Arms up in the air, and then plump
over I That means shot through the heart. It 's always
the same.'

j\ Thereupon he took out his pocket-knife, and cut a
little notch in the stock of his rifle. * That 's twenty-
three.'

* What — ^what have you done ? ' stammered the boy,
his face pale with revulsion. * A fellow creature — ^who
had done you no harm . . .*

* You blessed little fool,* returned the other angrily.
* Any one 'd think you might be a priest. Think they 'd
have let you go if you 'd been kind enough to stand up
as a target. You 've a lot to learn yet, you have.
War 's war — ^you '11 find that out before long.*

As if to emphasise the words, the look-out man a
dozen paces off dropped with a scream, and slithered
down into the trench, lay flat, turned over once on his
side, then a shiver passed through his limbs, and he lay
still.

* That was through the head,' said Nechleba,improving
the occasion. * Takes them differently, you see. Well,
that makes us quits, anyway.'

The young apostle who had lately preached the
sacredness of human life, grasped his rifle, and fired five
shots in rapid succession towards the grey line beyond.
His lips moved. * Scoundrels, murderers, blood-thirsty
devils ! ' he murmured. * Murderers 1 . . .'

The greybeard turned on him angrily* ' What are you

CAPTAIN ZILLNER IVT

after, you little fool ? Wasting away ammunition like
that I If the Captain sees you, you '11 catch it/ j

The boy leaned back, pale as death, against the earthen
wall. His teeth were chattering violently. Just at
that moment, the man who had been shot was carried
by, the head covered. Nechleba shrugged his shoulders,

' Our turn soon, you never know. It 's all in the day's
work. But you '11 never make a soldier, I can see.' He
spat on the ground. ' A softy, that 's what you are.'

The boy shook his head. * Poor blind creatures . . .
blind . . .' Then, with a rapid movement, he turned
and stood at his post, looking out, with his lips com-
pressed to a thin Ime.

• • • • • • •

On the seventh day there came a telephone message
from battalion headquarters to the effect that the general
situation had greatly improved. A big offensive had
been commenced by the armies on the flanks ; north
and south they were making great progress. The
Russians were in retreat there, and it was thus likely
that they would also fall back in the centre. And, to
crown all, the great fortress had been relieved. The old
Major's voice was jubilant as he told the news.

Zillner hastened to cheer up his subordinates with the
news. Prager at once set about to celebrate the occa-
sion by a tea party, relying chiefly on his patent meat-tin
stove. Andrei danced czardas on the floor of the trench,
a very creditable performance on the whole, considering
the restricted space. Even Spicka made some pretence
of cheerfuhiess, though he expressed himself with all
reserve. ' If it really keeps on like that, we may per-
haps do something this time after all.'

The men, too, were gleeful and excited, whispering
among themselves. ' The Russians have been turned
out of Lemberg — that means they '11 have to make peace
now. Hurrah for peace 1 We '11 be home in time for
Christmas after all.'

But Zillner saw the triumphal arch of his dreams rise
now more splendid than ever in the east. He saw him-

198 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

self galloping towards it, flags waving all around, the
black-and -yellow, the red-and-white, the sacred colours
from of old. And thousands of bells were chiming :
* Victory I '

In the dusk of that evening his relief came up. Zillner
started as they approached — he could hardly believe
his eyes. Here was no other than Hans Heinz Sara-
patka, creeping along, his neatly groomed figure bowed
in an awkward stoop. ' Here we are,' he gasped, and
leaned up against the breastwork. ' What a way I And
the night — dark and ugly . . . owls shrieking, as if . . .*
There was a whir of bullets over their heads. Hans
Heinz ducked. ' As if . . . are they always shooting
like this ? . . . as if . . . Ugh I '

* Soon get used to it,' said Zillner. ' How long have
you been at the front ? '

The poet sighed. ' Had to, after all,' he said plain-
tively. ' Short of officers. As a matter of fact,' he
went on, ' I had really been wanting to come and see it
all for myself — ^get at the reality of it, you know. In-
stead of the wearying routine of office work. Here, of
course, it 's different. If only they wouldn't keep firing
all the time. It gets on one's nerves, you know.'

Zillner smiled. ' I 'm afraid they don't consider one's
nerves overmuch. But you 've only got to keep under
cover.'

' I will,' said Hans Heinz earnestly. Then in a dreamy
voice, he went on : ' I feel something ripening within
... a call . . . insistent ; it will come, I know. . . .'

* A novel, perhaps. Well, then . . .'

* Novel.' Hans Heinz shook his heavy mane. ' My
dear fellow — nothing like it. Novels — no, the men
who stay at home can write novels. Little souls, that
only think of what they can sell. No — the thing that is
burning within me is an epic. The epic of modern war.
Here, in the midst of it all, the creative force . . .'
A bullet thumped into the earth close by, and spattered
his cape. Hans Heinz sat down in the bottom of the
trench, * Really, it 's most uncomfortable — this con-

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 19d

stant peril of death.' He gulped down something in his
throat. ' What was I going to say ? Yes ; it is in the
heroic idealism of action that such a work must be bom.
A paean of glorious deeds ! If only my nerves. . . .
What can the highest inspiration, the most ardent
feeling, avail against mere lead ? Nothing. They
cannot turn a single bullet aside.'

' They can.' Zillner drew himself up to his full
height. ' A man inspired with faith in the cause he
serves may go through fire and water unscathed.'

Hans Heinz looked at him in astonishment. ' Now
you 're talking poetry, my dear fellow. If you care to
come round any evening between eight and twelve,
when I 'm sitting at the Cafe Museum — I do my best
work then — ^why, I '11 be as poetic as you please. But
here . . . ' He shivered.

* Here is just the place. If I were a poet, I should
find my inspiration here — the finest, most glorious songs
would be born in just such an hour. Yes, if I were a
poet, I would make men feel the ecstasy of joy that
comes to a soldier here, where his work Ues.'

Hans Heinz flushed angrily. Here was this dull,
prosaic fellow, a professional soldier, in a dirty trench,
suddenly glowing with poetic fire, while he himself, poet
and man of culture, felt only acute discomfort. It was
ridiculous 1

' Really I ' he said aloud. ' My dear fellow, I admire
your spirit. You haven't washed for a week, and you
can still find all sorts of fantastic ideas and beautiful
words. It is really surprising. Now I always shrink
from things that make too violent an impression on the
mind. All this firing, for instance, and the general
sordidness. I don't feel comfortable without my
writing-table and my favourite lamp with the rose-pink
shade.'

' Is not emotion enough in itself ? Must you have a
writing-table and a lampshade before you can feel ? '
' * Well, you know — er — ^the artistic faculty is never at
its best in the midst of chaos. One needs to be removed.

200 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

at least from the brutally uncongenial. If only the
firing would stop, I could grasp the vision of all this hell
out here, and set it down in orderly coherence ; create a
metric harmony through which gods and devils should
work out their strife according to my will ; in a word,
produce a work of art direct from nature. You see what
I mean ? '

* Not quite.'

* Well, think for a moment. Here we are huddled up
in a muddy ditch, with the risk of a bullet through the
head at any moment — how can a man construct a plot,
or even formulate a single thought in printable guise ?
No ; the heart must be cool and calm, the brain clear,
and then — then, if you are a true poet, you can dig up
jewels from the sorriest mire.'

* I don't know what you understand by a true poet,'
objected Zillner. * Poets like Kleist' and Korner, I
imagine, must have been of a different clay.'

* Not a bit of it. They felt just the same. I assure
you. Do you really suppose Kleist could have written
the " Hermannsschlacht " sitting in a trench in the
Teutoburgerwald ? A nice mess he would have made of
it. And as for Korner and his battle songs — if he had
kept his ideas in his head till he got home, instead of
scribbling them down under fire, they would have been
a great deal neater and less rugged. No, it 's no good
trying to disparage the critical faculty — it is a part of
the poet's equipment. It 's all very well to talk of
direct feeling, things written with the heart's blood, and
so on. But heart's blood doesn't make a work of art.
It is the careful elaboration, the work of the file, that
does it. Take a man like Hoffmansthal — you could
never make him an Olympian if you tried. He would
simply be a dull, unwashed original, with dirty nails,
and smelling of cheese. It 's the same here. The sense
of the sublime is merely an aftermath, and hero-worship
only a literary reaction — I say, I believe I 've caught
cold already.' And he sniffed.

Zillner gazed out into the night. * If it were so,' he

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 201

said softly, * I should not care to play a part. Life
would be nothing but a senseless play, with a crowd of
miserable supers, and one or two well-paid swindlers in
the leading parts. No, I shouldn't care to be in that.'
' You misunderstand me.' The poet sniffed again.

* I didn't mean that exactly. An age of great achieve-
ments is always a great age ; we are in it now, we can
feel its breath burning upon us, mark its strides bringing
new wonders to light. But if I am to paint its progress,
hold up the grandeur of its march to the gaze of genera-
tions to come, then I must seek my inspiration in the
pathos which only distance can give. In a word, it is
impossible to etudy the war from an aesthetic point of
view if it will not leave you in peace — and I am sorely
afraid my creative faculty will suffer. The poet must
be raised above the actuality of his subject matter, and
view it from a distance. That 's what I mean. The war
itself, of course . . .'

* Yes, yes, I understand,' interrupted Zillner, his face
twitching. * When it is all over, I can read your epic,
and the visions you and your like have grasped with your
poetic faculty. Meanwhile, let me introduce you to the
vulgar peasant.' And he led the way along the trench,
Sarapatka following with an exaggerated stoop. A hand-
shake, and Zillner turned back, followed by his men,
along the way to the rear.

The poet crept into the dug-out, drew out a notebook,
and endeavoured to set down his thoughts. But there
was a disturbing smell of rotten straw, and a constant
dripping from the walls. He thrust back his notebook
with a sigh, crept into his sleeping-bag, and dreamed of
rheumatic fever and swollen joints ; followed, it is to be
hoped, by medical certificates and honourably acquired
unfitness for all further service in the field.

Days passed, and still no crossing of the river was
effected. The attempt was regularly announced as

* probably to be made to-morrow.' and day after day
the reserves paraded in the grey mist of dawn, but only

202 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

to march back to their second line of defence about
eight, and put in the rest of the day at spade work.
The clammy fogs crept over the meadows, frost glittered
on alder and willow, ice formed on the puddles, and the
men found it harder to break the crust of the soil with
their short-handled spades. The sun was no longer
seen by day, and at night the men crept closer together
in their sheds. The straw was damp, and a cold wind
whistled through the cracks in the plank walls. The
cholera grew bolder, stealing upon the sleepers in the
night, and seizing a victim here and there. The doctors
went about injecting serum into the rest. The primitive
ovens in the village were busy turning out substitutes
for the bread that still failed to appear — loaves made
from potato flour and brick dust.

Captain Pfustermeyer swore. Colonel Prapora fussed
about, scolding and complaining, and the former
Brigadier came round from time to time, testing the
thickness of the bomb-proof shelters with a foot-rule.
Zillner listened to the distant cannonade, which kept on
unceasingly. It came from downstream, where the
great river flowed out into the greater, and upstream to
the south. It was most furious in the region of the
recently relieved fortress, where it seemed to have
advanced a good deal. Once the airmen reported that
the enemy was sending baggage columns northward.
This gave rise to pleasant anticipations ; evidently the
Russians were being forced back by the pressure on their
flanks. Then came news from the rear, that bomb-
proof stables were under construction at division head-
quarters— which looked like preparations for the winter,
and doing nothing till the spring. . . .

The wearied troops began to grow uneasy. What was
going to happen ? For three weeks now they had
stuck to the same patch of ground, preparing for a leap
across the river. The drivers behind flourished their
whips, but half-heartedly now, and without fire. If
they would only lash out in earnest — a desperate at-
tempt to cross would be better than this inaction. A

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 20S

last charge on the other side : many would fall, no doubt,
but then, for the others, a chance of long-needed rest, a
prospect of home I Like a harassed beast, the army
gathered its limbs for a leap, straining every muscle,
waiting for the word. There, on the farther bank, was
peace to be won. Peace 1 One more leap, and perhaps
another, and it would be over. But the signal did not
*come. There came instead a night of terror — a. night
that tore the hearts of men to shreds. . . .

It was three o'clock. Zillner was sitting in his
quarters, reading a letter from Baroness Lisl at Meran.
'. . . He is getting on slowly, so slowly. Still the
cough and the fever. I am worn out, and dreadfully
anxious about him . . . and please do not write about
the war this time, please. . . .'

Zillner stared at the flickering candle flame. Poor
old Krottenburg 1 A good fellow — it was hard luck
indeed. Tlirown away by a senseless order, and left
there now at the rear in idleness . . . cough and fever
. . . poor Lisl ! He folded up the letter. What could
he say to comfort her ? His world here was so far
removed from hers ; her world that held but one thing —
the wounded man for whom she lived. His thoughts
and dreams were hopelessly alien to her one sorrow ; how
could he find words that should help her ? Tell her of
his faith, that looked forth over the manifold death into
a glory of flowers ? Impossible ! She was a loving
woman, with no heart for anything beyond her own
nest, that the war had already all but wrecked. This
great and merciless thing — ^war ; how should she ever
understand ? She would hate him if he tried. How
could she feel otherwise ?

He felt as if something in his heart had withered. He
had grown poorer, or surely he could have found words
to comfort a suffering woman who asked for his aid.
His heart had grown speechless, and it frightened him.
Even his men, the poor simple soldiers who looked up
to him — if they fell, he would see the pity of it, but his
heart would still be dumb. No — ^he had ceased to be a

204 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

human being ; he was a soldier and nothing more. He
stared at the light, and it seemed as if he were straining
to follow a blood -red star, the only one in all the sky
for him. All the kindlier little lights that had warmed
and cheered him before had faded in that fire, a single
blood-red glow that filled the sky. And his eyes were
drawn to it, and his heart beat wildly in longing. . , .
What could poor Lisl say if he should try to comfort her
by telling of his star ? He could see her face shrink
with horror, hear her voice, ' No, no, why do you tell
me of those horrible fancies ? Tell me when Moritz
will be well again. Tell me if he will be well soon — ^well
again . . . '

Zillner racked his brain to find something he could
write. - What could a man say to her ? ... It was no
good. Perhaps to-morrow. . . . He lay down on the
floor, where little Andrei was snoring in the straw.
Then there came a knock at the door.

An orderly stepped in, and gave out breathlessly :
' Order from the Colonel. Rouse the men, and form up
read to march. Captain Zillner to the office at once.'

' What does it mean ? Are we going to cross ? '

The man could tell him nothing save that the Colonel
seemed much disturbed. Zillner buckled on his sword,
took his cap and hurried off through the darkness.

The regiment had set up its headquarters in a large
farmhouse. The anteroom was full of orderlies and
motor cyclists ; in the next apartment sat the Adjutant,
surrounded by a staff of clerks. His face was haggard
from want of sleep, and he was plainly nervous, as he
sat with the telephone receiver to his ear, scribbling m a
big notebook. A couple of oil lamps hung from the
roof, shedding a dismal light. The Colonel was striding
up and down impatiently. Zillner saluted.

* Ah, yes,' said the Colonel. * You have your men
ready ? Good. The position is this . . .' He
walked up and down with rapid steps, looking like a
caged lion startled by a display of fireworks. * The
position, my dear fellow . . . well . . .' The Colonel's

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 205

voice was firm, yet with a certain ingratiating tone,
which he was wont to adopt in deaUng with awkward
situations. * In a word . . . you are to hold the
position here imtil .the regiment has reached a place of
safety.'

Zillner stepped back in astonishment. * The regi-
ment. . . . Pardon, sir — I don't quite . . . '

* Well, you see, it 's like this.' The Colonel paused,
and looked about him. ' We are to fall back. The
whole division. It 's altogether unexpected, I know
. . . still, as it is ... '

He resumed his march up and down, under the lamps.
Suddenly he stopped, and shouted across to the Adju-
tant. * Well, sir, get along, if you please. This cursed
dawdling. Send out the order once more, and let us
get done with it.'

Poor Captain Wiirkner lifted his oflfice-wearied eyes
appealingly : * Sir, the Brigadier has just altered the
arrangements for the fifth time. The Adjutant says he
can't help it, the division headquarters . . . '

* Good heavens — ^what are they all about ? Delay,
delay . . . and here are we trying to get the work
through.' The Colonel spread his arms wide in the
attitude of one crucified. Then, turning to the clerks,
who were cowering like scared fowls in a thunderstorm,
he shouted at them : ' Paper — pencils, lazy devils that
you are I Come along.' He grasped a stout corporal
by the arm and shook him. ' Make haste, you drivel-
ling lump of lard, or I '11 . . . ' And Colonel Prapora
tore off his cape, waved it furiously about his head, and
flung it down on the floor.

A little Jew clerk crept under the table and picked it
up ; the Colonel took it without a word, and put it on
again. * Ah ... at last I ' The Adjutant was ready
with the orders at last, and gave them out now to the
telephone, in a clear, even voice, while the clerks wrote
down at the same time. * . . . Front line companies
to evacuate their positions at once. Small patrols will
be left behind to deceive the enemy, but will likewise be

206 CAPTAIN ZILLNER "

withdrawn as soon as light. . . . Battalions will occupy
second line of defence . . . First battalion to cover the
retreat — occupy the outskirts of the village, and hold
the position at any cost. First order, dated twelve
midnight,'

Zillner was still standing by the door. The orders
fell on his ear like blows ; he was in a torment of anger
and disappointment. The stuffy little room, with its
smoky lamps, the pale face of the Adjutant in his corner,
the Colonel swinging up and down like a pendulum, in
a cloud of cigarette smoke . . . was it all real, or only
something in a dream. Impossible ! . . . impossible ! . . .

The Colonel's voice called him harshly from his
trance.

* Still there. Captain Zillner ? Well, sir, my orders
were surely clear enough. To your post at once, if you
please. The enemy may be moving out at any moment
to follow. . . . Heaven help us ! At once, sir.' Then,
changing his tone, he went on appealingly : ' My dear
fellow, I know I can trust you. ... It is a post of the
utmost importance ... for the honour of the regi-
ment . . . hold it at any cost. You understand ? '

Zillner went out. Over on the northern fringe of the
village were the newly-dug trenches, showing grey in
the dark of the night. He stood there, staring at the
grey wall, behind which the river flowed slowly on. A
dull sound of musketry reached his ears — he had heard
it now for nearly a month. He thought of the grimy
fellows huddled up in their pitiful shelters, comforting
themselves with the sweet word, ' Peace.' Like a
trumpet call from the sky had come the promise : they
had but to drive out the enemy, and peace was theirs.
And now, the telephone shouting harshly across their
dreams — the order to retreat I Again retreat 1 And the
Christmas trees of their vision turned to ugly spectres.

. . . Out there in front thousands of poor wretches
dragged back their rifles and flung their hopes away,
to be driven themselves like fallen leaves before the
wind. . . ,

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 207

What use had it all been ? A terrible voice rang
through Zillner's soul, bidding him curse that * Faith '
of his. In a passion of loathing he flung himself down
on the wet ground, and lay there digging his fingers deep
into the sand. ' Curses on your faith 1 ' he hissed be-*-
tween his teeth.

Spidery fingers clutched at him out of the night, and
an awesome whispering and muttering sounded in his
ears. ' Credulous fool ! Where is your rainbow now ?
Look about you, and throw off the scales from your eyes.
They are to die in vain, as the others have died ... all
those out in the dank meadows, in the trenches, in the
furrows of the plough ... all of them, all ! The
sounding words and phrases, the orders lashed out like
a whip — all lies, all lies ! The men at the rear, they
have long since ceased to believe. They drift about,
and stammer out commands at hazard. Their show of
energy is only a part they play, their seeming confidence
a sham . . . the most they hope for now is to bring the
pitiful tragedy to a less pitiful close, and it is for that
we are being sacrificed. We are to die, that they may
say it might have been worse after all. Credulous fool ! —
with your heart full of pity for the little supers in the
play, what corner of your soul is still so blind ? How
can you still believe ? '

His slight frame was shaking as with ague. Some-
thing was roaring in his ear : * Curses on your heart !
They are to die in vain, as the rest have died.' He
murmured the words himself, and the voices ceased.
Then another whisper rose : ' Are you a soldier ? — are
you your father's son ? He died in action, and did not
ask if he had died in vain. Are you a soldier — as your
father and his fathers before him ? Those men, who
rendered honourable service, generation after generation,
in the Habsburg armies — can you turn and curse the
faith in which they lived and died ? They were faith-
ful to the death — and you ? Shame on you, that you
have forsaken their ways. You, a soldier ! ' But the
voice from the night cried out : ' A human being is

208 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

something greater than a soldier ; the greatest thing a
man can be. Be that 1 '

Zillner staggered back to his company, his head in a
fever. Ten minutes later, as he was taking up his
position, a motor cyclist came up : ' Orders from the
Colonel — the position to be evacuated, and the company
to join up with the regiment at once. The retirement to
be carried out without delay.'

It was the sixth change of plans.

CHAPTER XII

That night the grey columns toiled back over vile roads,
cut deep by heavy wheels, and frozen hard. Dark
forests towered threatenmgly on either side ; the villages
were shivering skeletons, desolately, dreadfully silent,
with unlit windows glowering like dead eyes, and houses
standing resignedly in their wreckage, as if knowing
that no worse could come to them now than what had
been. Twice the war had passed that way, trampling
down everything underfoot, crushing in roofs and
piercing the walls to sieves. Its third coming could not
move them ; they were patient now, and could look
tamely upon death.

Many a hope that had flourished greenly in the mire
and damp by the river died out that nignt. Men did
not speak of it — ^they marched on, hundreds of thousands
of them, sullen at heart as the sullen night about them.
But one thought was tearing at the soul of all, agonising
every step ; why — why ? Why all that blooat>ned on
the river bank ? Why all those pits full of corpses on
the fringe of the wood, by the streams, on the hillsides
and scattered about the fields ? In each man's soul a
sullen anger was at work ; anger at this thing they could
not understand. But the night was long, and as the
columns groped on through the endlessness of it all, the
thought grew sluggish and dull. Hunger, with a physical
craving to huddle up somewhere and sleep, was stronger
than all the doubt and questioning of the mind. Food
and sleep — that was the pressing need ; the one idea
that stood out clearly still. All else seemed insignifi-
cant. And after a march of forty kilometres without
halt, a fair glow of light rose over the wearily struggling
thousands : the dawn 1

210 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

The first battalion of the Tiefenbachers had a division
of heavy howitzers wedged into their formation. The
giant guns creaked awkwardly along through the deep
ruts, the horses straining and gasping. They were big,
powerfully built animals, but terribly weak from lack
of food. At every little rise, a gun or an ammunition
waggon stuck fast, and had to be got under way again
with shouts and cracking of whips and pushing at the
spokes. When all proved unavailing, the ammunition
was taken out and buried. And at every such check,
Major Blagorski would look on with a dismal face and
plaintively protest : ' Now if the Russians were to
attack at this moment — -really, gentlemen — how are we
to get on at all ? We shall be left behind, that will be
the end.' He looked like a corpse, and stared out
anxiously to front and rear, for a sight of the Colonel.

* I hardly think they '11 come up in pursuit,' said
Grill. * A forced march like this should give us a good
start, and throw them out.'

* Heaven grant it may,' sighed the Major.

It was full daylight now. The Tiefenbachers left the
road, and made their way up a steep hill, where they at
once commenced to prepare a position of defence. The
artillery clattered in to a neighbouring village ; the
horses needed rest. Colonel Prapora stalked about
shouting orders : ' Not too wide — no time to spare.
Breastworks thrown well up, sharp lines, if you please.
Hurry along there — ^the enemy may be here at any
minute. . . .' Then off he went to the village with a
detachment of pioneers, to see about a bomb-proof
shelter for himself, where he could get a few hours' rest.

Zillner sat down by a field path. He was in a fever.
As through a veil he saw his men swaying hither and
thither over the ground, heard his lieutenants giving
orders as they marked out the lines of the trenches.
His mind was a blank ; no thought, no feeling, no voice
— he sat there shivering. And this was war 1 . . . the
great and beautiful power 1 ... A power, rather, that
turned men to dull beasts. He strove to collect his

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 211

thoughts, to recall the events of the night. Nothmg but
marching, tramp, tramp, and he himself riding behind
his men. Once his horse had stumbled and all but
thrown him — the poor beast was nearly worn out.
What had happened before that ? . . . He had been
unhappy about something . . . never mind — it was all
ridiculous, not worth a thought. It dawned upon him
that he must be ill. Should he ask the doctor ? No,
it was nothing; he was tired, nothing more. Up, and
get to work again 1

He pulled himself together with an effort, and went
over to where the men were working. Then he sat down
again, overcome with weariness, and sank into a blessed
half-consciousness. He sat staring at a rich dark clump
of upturned soil, thinking of nothing, nothing. . . .

Pfustermeyer's voice roused him. ' Wake up, man.
It 's no good sitting moping about it all, like a bottle-
green when his blessed little plans go wrong. I say,
though, you 're looking pretty bad. A nip of brandy 's
the thing. Crlenjak has some slivovitza,^ I know. Or
hot tea with a dash of rum. We 've got the samovar
going over there. Come along.' He took Zillner's
arm, and led him away. * We '11 soon get some warmth
into you.'

Pfustermeyer's section was at breakfast; The little
Croat had still a few drops of slivovitza, and some bread
and sausage ; Grill brought out sardines, and Pfuster-
meyer had provided tea. The messmen set out plates
and cups, and the officers sat down.

' What puzzles me,' began Grill, scowling at the mud
on his boots, ' is the suddenness of it all. We were
getting on nicely, all things considered, and the beggars
had begim to pluck up courage. And then — ^retire 1 I
can't make it out myself.'

' Don't try,' said Pfustermeyer. ' What 's the good ?

We go the way we 're fated to go — ^all the puzzling in

the world won't make it shorter, or longer either — only

harder. I 've given up worrying about things long ago.

' A kiud of spirit made from plums.

212 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

And if I do happen to get in a rage once in a while, when
the high and mighty ones have been more than usually
exabperatmg, wny, X laugh at myself for it afterwards,
and tiixuk of something else instead — home, for in-
stance, and the old lady and the youngsters, and what
fun it '11 be when it 's all over.'

^^ Grill's hard face softened into a faint smile. ' I wish
i could take things as philosophically as you. When I
can't understand a thing, I can't help trying to find some
explanation, at any rate. To-day, for instance . . . '

' Well, it must mean something,' said the big man
complacently, stufiing a hunch of bread into his mouth.
' A new reconstruction, I suppose they 'd call it. Some-
thing wrong with the old arrangement somewhere, so
they 've got to alter it. Anyhow, we 're still alive, that 's
the principal thing. Jovo, is there a drop left ? '

The withered mannikin handed him the bottle.
* Here, brother, maybe you can find a drop. Yes, you 're
right — it 's no good worrying — though I don't know,
I 'm sure. . . .' The little man seemed older than ever
to-day, his face all wrinkled and furrowed, and with the
grey stubble thick on his unshaven chin, but his eyes
twinkled merrily. ' The night wasn't so bad, after all.
Dry frost, brother — I can stand any amount of that.
It 's the damp that brings out my wretched gout.
I 'm fit enough to-day, though I 'm not so young
as I was.'

' Bravo,' cried Pfustermeyer. ' That 's the way to
take it. Jovo, you 're a first-rate sort — I 'd drink your
health if there was anything left to drink. Here ' — he
turned to Zillner — ' here 's a man now, that 's simply
worrying himself to death with thinking about the
blessed retreat. Feeling better — ^what ? '

' Thanks,' said the young Captain, with a faint smile.
It hurt him to feel himself so far removed from the
rest. Why could he not take things as Pfustermeyer
did, with a grand equanimity proof against all the trials
of these miserable days ; or as that brave-hearted little
greybeard there ; or like Grill, who was simply annoyed

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 218

at having to call his men back when he would have
preferred to drive them on with the whip — that was the
way a soldier ought to look at things. While he — ^he
could not help feeling miserable ; it pained him. He was
at feud with himself, a romantic dreamer, yet none the
less a critic, sceptic . . . and so his dreams always ended
at last in the recognition of some bitter truth.

Pfustermeyer must have guessed something of his
trouble, for he cried out suddenly, *Now, gentlemen,
I '11 give you a recipe to keep up your spirits. And
you, melancholy spectre, you in particular. Well then,
first of all, we imagine the Colonel well out of the way.
Then we count up the days — the third of November —
ergo, ninety days nearer peace — that 's encouraging in
itself. Then we proceed to think of something we 're
specially keen on — Grill, for instance, of his promotion,
and a decoration of some sort into the bargain ; the
younger bloods can think of their sweethearts, and so
forth. I, for my part, think of a neat little house I 've
got out in Waidhofen, with a trout stream close by, and
noisy youngsters rioting about, and old people cosily
at ease. Once you get used to keeping your thoughts
on that sort of thing, you won't worry any more about
obstreperous colonels or forced marches, or any other
silly devilments of war.*

* That 's all very well, brother,' put in the little Croat,

* but there 's one thing you 've forgotten. What about
the victory ? That 's what I 'm thinking about most of
the time. And when 's that coming along ? '

* Oh, well, it 's a matter of taste,' said Pfustermeyer.

* I find it more interesting myself to think of a quiet
comfortable life when it 's all over. All that about
victory — it simply makes me think of diplomatic dodges
and our blessed politicians, and all the mess they 've
landed us in already. And that 's not a cheerful sub-
ject to dwell upon. I 've had a little experience of my
own with the bottle-greens — and that brings it all up
again. Anyhow, we needn't talk of that — ^maybe we
shall win after all. I only mean it 's a bit too early yet

214 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

to think of it, or so it seems to me. It 's a matter of
taste, of course.'

* Well, I don't know about that,' protested the little
man eagerly. * Surely we must beat them — there can
be no question of that.'

* Let 's hope we may, let 's hope we may,' grumbled
Pfustermeyer. Then all at once his jolly red face
assumed an air of comical dismay. ' O Lord ! here
comes the poet ! '

Hans Heinz held out a limp hand to each in turn.
He was not looking his best. The lower part of his
Roman countenance was wrapped up in a woollen scarf,
the upper portion covered with a fur cap, and the collar
of his cloak turned up about his ears. Only his finely
chiselled nose stood out unprotected. It seemed to be
blushing and shedding tears of shame into the hand-
kerchief that Sarapatka held beneath it. ' Give me a
piece of chocolate, if there is any,' he said thickly. ' Not
hungry — only an abominable looseness of the bowels —
though I 've eaten three cakes already. It was all I
had.'

' Pfustermeyer nodded sympathetically, and fished
up a cake of chocolate from his pocket. ' I thought
perhaps it worked as a sort of inspiration, like Schiller's
rotten pears.'

' Apples, apples 1 ' corrected the poet impatiently.
Then with a hollow laugh : ' Inspiration — Ugh ! I
have not a notion in my head ; not so much as the
shadow of an idea. Only that cursed noise of firing
from the trenches. Tired, I 'm tired ! ' He sighed
deeply, and sat down.

* Ah 1 ' said Grill, with feigned sympathy, ' that 's the
first stage. Persistent hallucinations — one of the worst
symptoms of general breakdown. You 've got it badly,
I 'm afraid.*

The poet looked up with a sudden gleam in his eyes,
and his voice had a brighter ring. ' You think it 's
that ? Well, gentlemen, I don't mind telling you, I 've
been suffering tortures of late. I hope you may never

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 216

feel the same. Hot and cold, burning and shivering by
turns, teeth chattering all the time, and my right side
seemed paralysed. And a constant noise in the ears,with
fits of giddiness at times, till I can hardly sit in the
saddle. And rings of light, green and red and blue,
dancing before one's eyes, whirling about at a furious
pace . . . and my tongue . . .'

* All thick and furred . . . yes, you needn't tell us.*
Pfustermeyer shook his head gravely. ' It 's plain
enough. Neurasthenia and rheumatism, that 's what 's
the matter with you. There 's only one cure for it, and
that 's a good sharp little bout of hand-to-hand fighting
— it 's the only thing. You '11 see, it '11 work wonders.'

' Fighting ! ' The poet stared aghast. * Man, you 're
not serious ! Rest — a thorough rest, is the only cure
for shattered nerves and general breakdown. My con-
stitution . . . why, even my bowels are all wrong — a
most disgusting complaint . . . have to fall out a dozen
times a day, and — er — in the open, you know, like
a beast of the field ... it 's unendurable. I hope
you may never feel as bad as I do at this moment. . . .'

' No, no,' said Pfustermeyer sturdily, ' it 's not as
hopeless as you think. Once we 're attacked, and you
find yourself in the thick of it, you '11 feel a different
man. No more paralysis, no more coloured pictures
dancing, no more — er — falling out like a beast of the
field — ^you wait and see.' He looked at his watch.
* Close on twelve o'clock. They '11 be coming up with
us at any minute now.'

The poet rose hurriedly to his feet. * What — ^you
think . . . to-day . . . already . . . ? '

' Why, of course. What else do you think we Ve
been digging these pretty little ditches for ? '

* I thought it was just the usual precaution . . . and
— we 've been marching all night. Surely the Russians
can't . . .'

* That shows how much you know about them.
Haven't you noticed that they generally do attack about
noon ? '

21C CAPTAIN ZILLNER

Sarapatka's nose paled at the tip. * I think — I 'd
better see how the men are getting on,* he said. ' Per-
haps ... * And the poet walked away, his shoulders
drooping, a miserable figure.

The burly captain watched his retreating form with
a smile, ' Nice sort of soldier that ! — what ? Tickled
him up a bit, I fancy.'

* Extraordinary,' said Grill in his sharp voice. * And
that is the man who talked of war like a prophet inspired
— in the days of peace I Jesting apart, though, will
there be anything doing to-day ? '

' Of course not,' growled Pfustermeyer. * Did you
ever know the Russians attack a good position properly
defended ? I 've never seen them. It 's only to keep
us awake. Here 's the Colonel and the Major coming
up. I don't mind betting we 're ordered to march on
again within the hour.'

The Colonel inspected the defences, and found them
fairly satisfactory, all things considered. And about
one o'clock there came a whip-lash of command from
division headquarters : The retirement to be pushed on
without delay. The whole long front of covered trenches
which had cost the wearied men four hours of hard work,
was left behind, and the grey columns, staggering from
want of sleep, trailed forward into the grey of the
afternoon.

Possibly the Russians may have been taken aback at
the sudden and inexplicable move. At any rate, they
attempted no pursuit at first, but contented themselves
with taking possession of the huge stores of material
that had been left behind at the river

• ••••••

Cossack batteries were spattering the rearguard with
shrapnel, firing more or less at hazard ; the shells whined
dismally under the morning sky. The little bursting
clouds could be seen far off ; the Cossacks seemed to
have taken the whole dome of heaven for a target. It
was the custom to make a jest of the thing : the men had
ftlways done so up to now, jeering aij the fools who were

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 217

tiying to shoot holes in the blue up above, and urging
them facetiously to try again. But to-day it was
different. Anxious eyes peered out in the direction
whence the firing came in irregular rolls of thunder ;
there was a strange silence in the ranks, and the men
stepped out with a longer stride. A little nervous
shiver seemed to run through the companies from time
to time. With shoulders forward, and backs more bent
than was their wont, they hurried on ; in many faces
one could plainly read the wish to run. Run — off into
the cover of the woods. Many eyes were dull with the
sense of hopelessness : all they had done up to now was
fniitless ; however they toiled and fought, the end was
always the same — retreat. Bitter little thoughts were
hammering at men's brains, as if gasping in time to their
rapid breathless pace. ' Had enough — enough, enough ! *
* Push on and get out of it — out of it — out of it ! ' It
had been a sorry feast — and it was they who had to pay
the piper. On — on ! And the pace grew quicker.

The captains rode beside their companies, watchful
as men guarding untamed beasts. The subalterns, too,
kept a close eye on their men ; they could see the spectre
of fear hovering about the ranks. It was a time for the
sternest discipline, or the compact mass that was wont
to trudge like a simple, willing beast, might break at
any moment into a thousand desperate units, rushing
in headlong senseless flight to anywhere. They hurry
on in ever growing dread of the devils at their heels.
The officers' pistols are helpless to cope with the threaten-
ing panic ; at any moment it may burst on them like a
hurricane, tearing the whole formation into shreds. i#1

Grill's revolver is hot in his fingers ; three of his men
had dashed for the bushes as the shrapnels burst over
their heads, and he had shot them down as a warning
to the others. And riding slowly round he shepherds
the rest of his company with silent, terrible eyes. They
march on, faultlessly in step, keeping their dressing
minutely, answering to the stronger will.

218 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

The Cossack batteries had done no damage, and after
a while the firing ceased. The troops marched on.

* Funny thing,' said Pfustermeyer to Zillner.
* Deuced funny thing. Plucky as anything up to now,
even under the hottest fire. And now — ^all of a sudden,
their nerve goes. And all for those rotten little shrap-
nels. They never bothered about them before.'

Zillner made no answer. He seemed to see the
heavens full of flaming signs : Woe unto those who had
thrown away the lives of men — the blood of that wasted
sacrifice should be upon their head. He felt inwardly
exhausted, and a great despair was at his heart.

' Look at that lieutenant of yours,' went on the big
man, lowering his voice. ' Never known him look so
cheerful before. Might think he was pleased to be going
the wrong way.'

' Yes,' agreed Zillner bitterly. ' He 's an Austrian
to be proud of, indeed ! '

Lieutenant Spicka, the Czech, was certainly looking
pleased. He walked at the rear of his men, with his
head in the air, and a smile of mischievous enjoyment
on his lips. He seemed to be occupied with agreeable
thoughts ; from time to time, he bowed his head, as
if to conceal a gleam of crafty satisfaction in his eyes.
Then up again, and staring at the knapsacks of the men
in front of him. He told his thoughts to none : it was
not his way to confide in people, least of all Germans
and Hungarians ; he kept his secret proudly locked
in his own Slav heart. Things were going badly with
his German friends — Nazdar ! That was the main
thing, and enough for the present. Mother Russia
would soon arrange the rest. . . . For Spicka, the
retreat was a triumphal march.

About noon, the Tiefenbachers halted and dug
themselves in. The Colonel called his officers together,
and explained to them with kindly intent, if somewhat
nervously, how entirely innocuous a thing was a shrapnel
shell. Musketry fire could be dangerous at times, but to

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 219

lose one's nerve for a little shrapnel was simply ridicu-
lous I It made a noise, and that was positively all.
They would do well to make this clear to the men. ' We
must keep up our strength, gentlemen. It is not un-
likely that we may this very day . . . the enemy is not
far off, I understand.' The Colonel concluded his
lecture with genial warmth, and took Himself off to his
bomb-proof shelter.

' All sugar and spice to-day, the old man,' said
Pfustermeyer to Sarapatka. And with a chuckle, he
added, ' We shall be in the thick of it to-day, you see.'

' It '11 have to come some day, I suppose,' said the
poet, striving to appear resigned to his fate.

' If I were you, now, I 'd sit down and work out a
neat little " Hymn before Action " — do you good, you
know, to collect your thoughts.'

' Do not jest, I beg of you,' murmured Hans Heinz.
' If you knew what I feel at this moment. . . . The
whole of my left side is simply dead. . . . I 'm done for,
I 'm afraid.'

' Get out ! ' laughed the other. ' All nonsense. A fine
fellow like you ! '

' A vulgar fellow,' thought Hans Heinz to himself,
* with his tactless witticisms. He annoys me.' And
he resolved to take the earliest opportunity of telling
him so.

But the opportunity never came. That day the
Russians attacked, half-heartedly, as usual, but in over-
powering numbers, and the burly captain met his fate.
The first volleys, fired at long range, came singing over
the trenches ; Pfustermeyer was standing upright,
calmly on the look-out. A sudden shiver passed
through his huge frame, and he fell in a heap.

They dragged him carefully down under cover.
' Where are you hit, sir ? ' asked the orderly corporal,
fumbling at his tunic.

' Don't bother,' murmured the big man in a voice
unlike his own. ' It 's no good. Through the stomach.
All over now,'

220 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

He unfastened his tunic with difficulty, drew out a
leather wallet, and whispered : * Captain Zillner — ask
him to come a moment.' The jovial round face was
drawn and grey.

Zillner came running up, and knelt beside him,

* Pfustermeyer, my dear old friend — ^you 're not — you
mustn't . . .'

The dying man drew from his wallet a bundle of notes.

* Here — company funds. Two thousand five hundred
and thirty-five Kronen . . . should be . . . twenty-
three hundred, rest in twenties, and one ten — count.'

' Don't, man, don't ! . . .' Zillner grasped his friend's
hand ; he felt the tears choking him. * My good old
friend. . . .' He could say no more.

The big man smiled faintly. * Officers proceeding on
furlough,' he quoted, * . . . hand . . . company funds '
. . . He gasped ; there was hardly the breath of a child
in all his body. * My wife — tell her . . . Tiefenbachers,
good luck. . . .' His voice was stifled in a throbbing
gasp, and a moment later Zillner closed the eyes that
had smiled so bravely all along.

A soldier's requiem sang through the air, an organ
music from thousands of hellish tubes that shrieked and
whined.

The big man lay contentedly, imperturbable as ever,
unmoved by the furious din ; his face was calm, as if he
knew that nothing could harm him now.

The whisper ran from man to man along the trench.

* The Captain 's down,' and many hearts winced in pain.
His servants and the orderly knelt beside him, with tears
in their eyes — he had been kind to them.

Zillner, with head erect, strode back across the bullet-
spattered ground to his company. There had come
upon him a strange and "thrilling sense of companionship
with death, now that he had lost his dearest friend.
What was there to wait for ? What joy could it be to
him now to drag on through the rest of the campaign,
with his faith gone and his soul dulled ? Men sluggish
by natwe could live so, and sturdier minds could make

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 221

light of it all. But for him, it was at an end. A bitter
loathing seized him — the senseless waste — the madness
— ^that human beings could give themselves up to this.
Death — death was the only sane thing left in an insane
world. It made an end ; one could forget, and it meant
peace — ^peace such as his old comrade therehad won —
and, perhaps, meet those who had gone . . . perhaps,
after all, the soul was not a mere invention of the cheat-
ing priests. He longed to taste the truth of life ; to die.
The men looked curiously at him as he walked down
the line, with head and body exposed. But not a bullet
touched him. Fate is generous of the gifts we do not
ask, and miserly with those we beg for . . . ay, and
scornfully cruel when we seek to extort some favour by
defiance. And Zillner's fate laughed at him now. Not
this time — no, not yet. Let hmi run a little longer.

• • • • • • •

The Tiefenbachers held out imtil the evening, and then
relinquished their rearguard position in the face of an
overpowering enemy force. Zillner sprang out from
cover, and sounded his whistle : ' Cease fire 1 Retire I '

Figures of men glided out from the shadow of the
trenches, and moved back into the misty dark behind.
Zillner glanced to the left, where Spicka lay with his
men — no one moved. He shouted across : ' Lieutenant
Spicka — ^retire 1 ' A few men emerged — surely that
could not be all ? ' Lieutenant Spicka — retire I Do you
hear me ? Fall back at once I ' roared Zillner again.

Then a dark mass of moving figures flowed over the
breastwork of the trench from the front, and there was
the sound of a faint ' Hurrah.' Above it rose a single
voice — Zillner's heart-beat checked as he heard it —
Spicka's voice, in loud entreaty : * Mi sme brairi, niec
strilat ! ' ^ And like an echo came the cry from the
miserable wretches in the trench, a wailing * ISiec strilat 1 '
There was no further attempt to retire.

Zillner felt as if he had been beaten with a stick,
Spicka's men had thrown down their rifles, and flimg up
^ We are brothers — do not fire \

222 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

their arms as the Russians came in, begging piteously
for quarter : * Mi sme bratri ! ' — Cowards ! It was very
quiet there now. The men — his men — were fraternis-
ing with the Russians. A sob burst from him. This
was the meaning of that triumphant smile on the face
of the Czech ; this was what he had been looking forward
to through all those weary days. And now he had got
his wish.

Zillner's fingers gripped his pistol fiercely. If he
could reach him now !

Behind, in the enemy's ranks, Spicka was already on
his way to a safe and pleasant captivity among his
Slav brothers.

The Tiefenbachers fell back under a desultory fire
from the enemy, and were soon under cover of the dark.
They were already practically out of range, and Zillner
was in the act of forming up his men, who were straggling
a little, when something struck his left shoulder heavily.
He felt but little pain, and gave no particular heed to
what had happened, but after a few steps a sudden
faintness seized him. He clenched his teeth and
staggered on a little — then his knees gave way and
he sank down unconscious.

At the dressing station he came to, and the first thing
he perceived was the glow of a cigar close above his
head. A surgeon with a red moustache was bending
over him. ' H'm — ^perforation of the shoulder-blade.
Nothing serious. A bit lower down would have been
awkward . Next . '

Zillner looked round, vaguely wondering. He was
lying in some straw on the floor of a big room ; there
were a number of wounded about. The voice of the
surgeon seemed trampling, as it were, on the constant
low moaning that went up from every side.

' Get the bad cases out in the passage. That '11 give
us more room. Abdominal wounds can stay here for the
present. How many abdominals are there ? '

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 228

* Nine, sir,' reported an assistant.

' Leave them alone as long as you can — and out-
side as soon as . . . you understand. We must have
room.'

A rough kind of lantern threw a cone of faint light
down through the close air, leaving most of the place
half dark. A staff of men in white overalls were moving
about. From somewhere by the wall came a fluttering
prayer : ' Can't you help me, please . . . the bandage
is soaked with blood, and all my clothes . . . the pain 's
awful. . . .' The little red glow of the cigar came to
a halt. . . . ' You, is it ? Pain awful — yes, I know.
The bandage is all right, my man, you 've nothing to
complain of. Pain ? Can't help you, I 'm afraid.
We 're not here to work miracles. Next.' And the
red cigar-point moved on. ' Any knife work that can't
wait ? No — ^all right then. We can leave things as they
are for a bit. How are things outside, by the way ? '

A corporal reported that there were rumours of enemy
forces close at hand.

The red spot ducked and quivered a little. ' Oh —
h'm. In that case — ^we must get away from here. Have
the carts ready at once. Keep four for the doctors —
take the slightly wounded in the others, if there 's room.
The rest must stay here. Come along, gentlemen, no
time to lose.'

The red glow swept like a meteor down the wall and
vanished.

Zillner soon noticed that only the badly wounded men
were left. Here and there he could hear one choking
in the death struggle ; a man on his right gave a great
gasp and lay still. The Russians were coming — he
would be taken prisoner . . . no, anything rather than
that. He raised himself to a sitting posture, found he
could sit up without pain, and attempted to rise. He
managed to stand on his feet, though the room seemed
swaying about him. He must get out to the carts — he
would manage somehow.

Outside all was confusion and shouting. Vehicles

224 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

drove up and moved off. An assistant surgeon came
rushing in and gave a hurried glance round. ' We are
moving off from here — they are firing on the outskirts
of the village already, and we must give up the place.
Those who can walk, come along at once — the others
remain quietly where they are.'

Zillner pulled himself together, and stumbled towards
the doctor. ' Lend me a hand, would you mind ? I can
manage if you '11 just hold my arm.'

Ambulance men hurried by with bundles of groaning
humanity. Two men with their heads swathed up,
till they looked like bales of cotton, came hobbling
along by themselves. On every side were others crying
piteously to be taken in the carts.

' Very sorry — can't take any more,' called out the
surgeon, with a shrug of the shoulders. ' Hardly room
for us as it is. Hurry up there — hurry up ! '

The carts were ordinary peasant waggons from the
neighbourhood. Four of them were occupied by the
doctors, two to each cart.

The youngest of the surgeons remained behind at the
dressing station. Three men, badly wounded in the
legs, were placed in the fifth cart, which was slightly
larger than the rest. Zillner and the two head-swathed
men sat on board seats above the prostrate three, and
they drove off. The little country ponies were urged to
the top of their speed ; the badly wounded men on the
floor of the cart cried out terribly at first, but soon lost
consciousness. Zillner was suffering agony ; he bit his
lip till the blood came, and hung on desperately with his
one sound arm to the board seat ; every bump and
shake of the springless axles went through his body.
The two on the opposite seat held each other's arms for
support, their bound heads rocking like grey globes in
the dark. Thus the remainder of what had been a dress-
ing station rattled on into the night. As soon as they
reached the high road, and were once more on ground
held by their own troops, the pace slackened ; the sense
of safety made itself felt ; men found their voices, and

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 225

were no longer oblivious of their comrades. They
looked at one another, and exchanged sympathetic
inquiries. Even those who had been shaken almost to
death found strength to smile, despite their shattered
bones. And, lying down on the benches in the waiting-
room, they could dream that all their miseries were at
an end ; could give themselves up to longing thoughts
of home, and look forward to some dear embrace.
Already they could hear the rumble of the hospital
train approaching.

Zillner sat in a corner, shaking with fever, and staring
blankly at a coloured poster advertising travel tickets.
Suddenly his vis-d-vis from the terrible waggon ride
leaned over towards him, muttering thickly through his
bandages : ' There ! What do you think of that ? I 've
always said war was a filthy business, but there 's no
need to make it worse by lying — more especially when
the liars are men whom everybody trusts. Read that.'

He handed a paper across — ^it was a copy of a pro-
vincial daily. Zillner read : ' Ofl&cial. — ^The General
Staff reports : The position is in all essentials unchanged.'

' Unchanged. I wonder what they call " essential ".'

Zillner shrugged his shoulders. ' I suppose they
deceive themselves as well as others. After all, don't
we do the same — or did till a while back ? You, I
suppose, came into the thing with all sorts of ideals,
and haven't you had to shut your eyes to the truth
pretty often since ? We 've all done it — hundreds
of times ! Again and again, till the mind breaks down,
and leaves us miserable slaves, without an atom of
soldierly spirit. And yet — think of the time when we
were still soldiers at heart — didn't the lie seem a better
thing than the truth as we know it now ? '

The swathed head rocked to and fro, but gave no
answer. The train came into the station, there was a
creaking of brakes, a hiss and sputter from the engine,
and it drew up. A man came hurrying along the plat-
form, his cheeks red with the cold, his eyes bright with
excitement. It was Hans Heinz^ the poet. He shouted

226 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

breathlessly and hurriedly as he came up. ' Thank
heaven, I 've found you again ! I was afraid I should
miss the train. We 've been galloping all the way like
mad. It was terrible, terrible ! '

' Are you wounded ? ' asked Zillner.

' Worse than that,' said the poet, his lips quivering in
an appeal for sympathy. ' Shaken to death. My head
— it 's simply agony.'

Despite his plaints, it was evident that the prince of
poets was very much alive ; more so, indeed, than he
had seemed for a long time. He carried his head high,
with the air of a Caesar triumphant, his eyes beamed
with a sunshine of delight at the kindly fate that had
granted him leave to pursue his studies of the mysteries
of life in peace.

The cotton bale nodded towards the train, and gurgled
out happily : ' That means home ! Home — and live
like a human being again — and feel. . . . Home, the
wife and the little ones. . . . Oh, it 's grand, it 's grand ! '

Zillner said no word.

CHAPTER XIII

There was certainly a great deal of excitement.
Fraulein Erika, the assistant nurse, sprang down the
stairs, her black skirts flying behind her. She came to
a halt at the bottom, holding her side, and cried out,
' They '11 be here in a minute. They 've just telephoned
from the station. Twenty-five of them to us — ^think,
twenty-five wounded heroes ! '

The Sisters looked out over the park to the drive — the
hospital had until recently been a palace.

' Froschi, my dear, pray do not excite yourself so,'
said one of them, an older woman, whose thin face
seemed impregnated with the bitterness of hard-won
resignation. ' Really, one might think you were a child.
Are you expecting some one you know — an old acquaint-
ance perhaps ? '

' No, of course not. But really, it is exciting — ^and I
hope I 'm not too old to show it.' Fraulein Erika
tossed her head, showing a wealth of brown hair under
the white cap. ' I think it 's lovely ! '

' Lovely — H'm — not always,' put in a fair, broad-
bosomed girl with a little retroussi nose. ' You wait
till you 've seen as many as we have. Most of them
aren't a bit lovely — that 's only in the novels. They 're
dreadfully rough to look at as a rule, with prickly
beards — ^and vermin I And most of them are only
common soldiers. Not a bit the sort to fall in love
with.'

' What nonsense, Affi,' answered the pretty novice.
' Fall in love with them, indeed — ^we 're not schoolgirls.
But you can't help feeling for them, after they 've been
all but killed out there. It 's quite a different thing.
And as for their bemg only common soldiers — ^well, I

228 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

think I like them best. And the ugHer and dirtier they
are . . .'

* . . . The more you love them ? ' cried the fair girl,
and the other laughed.

' Exactly. And I like the common soldiers best.
Any one can be nice in a drawing-room.'

' Really, if we are to have wounded heroes, I should
certainly prefer them without vermin,' said the elderly
nurse. ' I can't help it — it makes me shudder.'

' That 's all affectation really,' whispered the fair Sister
to the dark girl at her side. ' She 'd take any one,
however nasty, if they 'd only have her. But nobody
will.'

' Affi, don't be horrid ! '

There was the sound of a motor hooting outside.

' IJere they come ! '

Two ambulance waggons drove up first, followed by
a number of hired motor cars, with two officers in each.
The dressers hurried down to help the badly wounded
upstairs. The girls stared in surprise — the men were
all old. Even young subalterns looked extraordinarily
aged; sharp-nosed, hollow-cheeked, and with stubbly
beards of a dirty grey.

' There 's nothing very fascinating about any of them
up to now,' said Sister Affi with a sigh. ' There 's your
soldier, Erika, the one getting out now,^ with his arm in
a sling. Come along, I '11 take the other.'

Zillner and Sarapatka stood at the foot of the steps ;
the two girls hurried down to them. ' This way, please.
We '11 help you upstairs.'

The poet looked at them with eloquent eyes. ' Most
kind, most kind ! Angels of mercy — Ah 1 '

' Only Sister, if you please. "Where are you hurt ? '

' Contusion and shock,' said Hans Heinz darkly.
And on the way up he gave a thrilling description of
how the explosion of a heavy shell had thrown him to
the ground. ' Those big shells are terrible things.
Rushing down upon you out of the unknown, whirling
poor human bodies away in atoms. And the mere

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 229

force of the air is so terrific that it can fling a man down
like a plaything 1 I was fortunate, Sister.'

' How prettily you speak. Just like an actor.
Then you can't be very badly hurt, that 's a good thing.
But it must be dreadful. . . .'

Hans Heinz produced an affecting tremor of the
voice. ' Ah . . . dreadful 1 . . . One's head is racked
with agonising pains, and all one's nerves. . . . For the
moment, though, I feel vastly improved.' He looked
his fair companion covertly up and down, noting the
rounded contours of her figure. ' To fall into such
hands ! '

The Sister opened a door. ' This will be your room.'
The little dormitory with brilliantly polished floor and
two rows of beds looked most inviting. ' You will want
a bath, of course ? '

Sister Erika took the cue, and put the same question
bashfully to Zillner. He was so dreadfully solemn, this
man, not a bit like the other. But he looked up at her
now with a grateful smile, and she took courage. ' I
must help you.'

Zillner felt a pleasant warmth at his heart. This
delicate girl. . . .

' Thank you. Sister, you are very good. But . . .'

' I 'm sure you can't manage by yourself, with your
arm. . . .' The novice hesitated between embarrass-
ment and the desire to help. ' I '11 be so careful, and
not hurt you a bit.' And her eyes turned to his in
childlike appeal.

He looked at her earnestly. ' How kind you are ! '

The girl lowered her eyes. ' We are here to help, you
know.'

' There are ways of doing it. I like your way,'
he said earnestly. ' Not every one is good as well
as . . .'

He paused. ' Come,' she said, and was all motherly
energy and busy care. But her cheeks glowed.

Sister Eva led her poet to the bathroom and took her
leave. ' I think you '11 find everything you want,' she

280 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

said. And then you will have some lunch— let me see

. . cutlets, omelette, and tea or coffee . . .'

' And cocoa,' whispered Erika.

The poet's eyes shone. ' Never in my life have I
found myself so near to paradise,' he affirmed solemnly.
' Lunch — I shall be delighted. If you would come and
let me know . . .' He spoke with a caressing warmth.
Then, with a graceful gesture of adieu, he withdrew to
his bathroom.

Zillner, in the bathroom next door, submitted not
without embarrassment to the touch of his nurse's
fingers as she removed his tunic and shirt. This girl, so
young, so evidently unused to the work, and so unlike
the hardened professional type — he would have preferred
to manage by himself. But with his arm it was impos-
sible. The shoulder seemed bricked up in bandages.

' There ! it 's slipped. I must put on a new one. Be
careful not to make it wet.'

Zillner found it difficult to fall in with the situation.
Here was a young girl of good family, such as he had
been accustomed to meet in the empty whirl of social
intercourse, standing over him like a mother and pulling
off his shirt. He was the more embarrassed of the two.

' There ! that '11 do.' She turned to the bath and
waved a thermometer. ' How do you like it ? '

' Just as you think best. Sister.'

' Better not make it too hot. I thmk you '11 find
that right.' She cast a glance round and moved to the
door. ' I '11 send a man up to help you with the rest.
Be careful with the bandage, won't you ? ' And with a
little nod she left the room.

Zillner looked after her. Out of the chaos of misery,
hope and doubt and despair, out of the ruin of his shat-
tered world, rose like a flower the delicate figure of a
woman.

Hans Heinz, the poet, was a most satisfactory case.
He improved wonderfully. His Roman countenance
regained the expression of condescending superiority

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 231

which the discomfort and peril of active service had
come near to effacing altogether. His clean-shaven
cheeks were perhaps a trifle paler than in the days of
peace, and there were dark rings round his thoughtful
eyes, but that only made him the more interesting. He
knew it, and made the most of it, as he strolled with
easy graceful gait about the place, shaking his perfumed
locks and glancing about him with the air of one whose
future is assured.

' Isn't he handsome ? ' whispered the Sisters, as he
passed them with a kindly encouraging smile. ' There 's
a dreadful fascination about him,' the girls of excitable
temperament agreed, and those of a more aesthetic turn
murmured ecstatically, ' And only fancy — a poet too I '

Before he had been twenty-four hours in the place,
he had confided his divine mission to them all, and
promised them his autograph.

' And for you. Sister Eva — you shall have a poem all
to yourself. I can feel it coming ! '

She had really made a great impression on him. And
it was a pity, therefore, that she herself seemed so little
able to appreciate the costly gift he promised. ' Really ! '
was all . she said — and afterwards she expressed her
surprise at his being able to write any new poems at all
after being so badly hurt. A shallow creature, thought
Hans Heinz, with an irritating roughness of manner at
times. Well, she should fiaid her master. He could
not know that she privately regarded him as a conceited
ape — and, had he known it, he would certainly have
forgotten it at once, as something beneath his notice.
As it was, the fair head and pleasantly rounded figure
set the little channels of his genius aflowing, and filled
him, indeed, with a rich supply of lofty thoughts. Hans
Heinz was in the best of spirits ; every day was a holiday
to him, thanks to his contusion and Sister Eva.

It seemed an easy matter now to start in earnest upon
the work which was to be the one unique real epic of
modern war. And before long the thunderous lines
of Canto I. were down in black and white.

282 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

Zillner's wound proved more serious than he had
thought. The bullet had passed through his shoulder,
tearing away a great piece of flesh at its exit. The
wound had festered, and brought on a fever.

Hans Heinz lay in the same room. And in the
intervals of poetic production, when he lay drawing
inspiration from the wintry sough of the trees without,
or polishing his nails, or silently contemplating Sister
Eva's charms, he would from time to time vouchsafe
a sympathetic inquiry as to how Zillner was getting on,
and be relieved to hear that he was making progress.

But when Zillner one day suggested that Sarapatka
was looking splendidly fit, and would soon be able to
return to the front, the poet's lofty forehead darkened.
' My dear fellow,' he said reproachfully, ' how can you
think of such a thing ? The physical symptoms are less
poignant, I admit, but that is not all. I would not wish
my worst enemy to suffer the tortures I endure. A
mental obsession — hallucinations . . . noises, terrific,
appalUng ! Thunder of guns and incessant rattling
volleys ... at night I am surrounded by horrors.
Sleep is impossible. Dead men stand round and glare
at me, and voices — voices I . . . No ! Painful as it is to
remain inactive in a time of great things happening,
there is no help for it. I must pack myself off to a
sanatorium — a thorough rest-cure is the only thing.'

* But really, I thought . . . from the way you snore
all night long. . . .'

' All night long. . . . No, no ! In moments of utter
exhaustion, perhaps, when the agonising visions leave
me for a brief space. But beyond that — my dear sir,
you must have been dreaming. I should be sorry to
see another suffer as I do at nights. You have no con-
ception of what it means.'

And Hans Heinz inquired no more after his com-
panion's health. A few days later he came in himself
in triumph, waving a doctor's certificate before Zillner's
eyes. ' There — read that, and perhaps you will under-
stand.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 238

The order stated that Hans Heinz Sarapatka, suffer-
ing from violent neurasthenia, was to be granted three
months' sick leave.

' You see,' exclaimed the poet. ' Thank heaven there
are yet doctors in the country who understand their
business.'

* I see,' answered Zillner. ' I hope you '11 be all right
again soon.'

' It will take time,' said the poet firmly. ' That sort
of thing is not cured in a month. I shall go to the
Wienerwald at first, and see how I get on there. Once
I am thoroughly restored — then comrade ' — his voice
had something of the old heroic ring — ' then, if such be
His Majesty's pleasure, I shall be proud and happy to
return to the arena ! '

Hans Heinz walked off with light and easy gait to
inspect the new travelling trunk which he had ordered in.
Zillner watched him as he bent over it, deftly and neatly
packing away his clothes and a host of little trifles. A
sense of loathing came over him — an intense and
nauseating hatred of the ingrained falseness and mere-
tricious seeming with which this man, like so many
others, faced the demand for sacrifice. All those actors,
gaudy, jangling pageant figures, who had trooped in on
to the scene at the first outbreak of war, heralding and
glorifying it with hollow phrases, only to retire into the
background as reality approached, and pull the strings
from a safe distance. They were fitting company for
the Pharisees and hypocrites who juggled with dreadful
facts, sugaring disaster for the simple by assuring them
it was the will of God. Cheats and swindlers, blas-
phemously invoking the Almighty to witness that
murder was a sacred thing ! What a ghastly failure was
this world, with its superficial codes of morality, its
religions sowing love and reaping hate, its pseudo-sages
in their cobwebbed studies, strewing out nebulous
ethics over the earth, and thinking to illuminate it as
with a sun. A boy with a pistol — and the learned
theories collapse ! A shot in the streets of Sarajevo, and

284 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

ethics, treaties, moral codes are forgotten in a moment ;
the dusty volumes of the sages are torn to shreds, and
humanity stalks the earth nakedly barbarous, with
shouts of hate, and threatenings, and a wild delight in
massacre and destruction. Massacre and destruction
in the name of a beneficent God ! Men of a cultured
8ge, yet with passions no more tempered, no less lewd
than in the youth of the world, when they had fought
in cave and forest, crushing their fellows with stones,
or tearing them with their teeth. No better than the
predatory biped of those earliest ages, only a little more
complicated in externals. The whole structure of society
was founded on a lie ... a lie patent to all save the
poor ignorant victims whose bones were crushed to make
the mortar of the building, and the dreamers in the
attics, whose brains were mazed with their own imagin-
ings. The honest souls, the men of simple faith, were
cheated. But the gluttons who could thrive on it all
know well that the fairy palace was a sham, and they
worshipped it, exploiting the faith of the simple in the
name of God.

Soft twilight flowed in through the window, flooding
the room with a milky gloom. Ziliner looked up, and
saw in the doorway the dark, slender figure of the
young novice. Quietly she stepped across the room.
' Temperature please. Captain. It 's four o'clock 1 '
She took the thermometer, and went to the window to
read it. ' 37*3 — you 've no fever now ! I 'm so glad ! '
Her voice rang with honest sympathy.

He took her hand and kissed it. ' Thanks, Sister
Erika. You are always so good and kind.'

' I 'm glad you 're better,' she said simply. ' Perhaps
you will feel more cheerful now — not always so dreadfully
sad.'

* You must come often. Sister Erika — then I shan't
think of the sad things so much. Will you ? '

' I ? ' she murmured shyly — ' How can I ? '

' Only come sometimes, and bring a little sunshine.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 285

She glanced down at him ; his eyes burned with
appeal. A sudden feeling almost of terror seized her :
she felt herself drawn, unwillingly yet irresistibly, down
towards the eyes that asked something of her, something
that her youth and girlish shyness feared to see.
* I will come as often as I can. Gk)od-night.'
She hurried away, leaving Zillner to weave golden
dreams through the dark.

Golden dreams ! ... it was good to lie and work the
pattern out. Untiringly the pictures wove themselves
into a gossamer veil about herself and him, while others
were moaning and dying. Dreams soft as the starlight,
with no kiss to break the delicate threads, no rough
grasping after palpable things that would have torn the
fabric. They walked together as on a day of early
spring, all shy budding and longing, with the heat and
flower of summer immeasurably far off. Zillner felt
himself refreshed. The chaos out of which he had come
was gone, and he no longer looked back. He felt vaguely
that care and kindliness and love were all about him,
and it made him glad. The dark road where the ruins of
his soldierly ambition were left behind had opened out
into a new and brighter way, lit by another sun. And
a maiden led him, half unconscious, softly, by the hand,
and he closed his eyes and followed whither she would.
So he dreamed himself slowly on into a new life.

His wound had ceased to pain him, but he was still
unable to lift his arm. The doctors declared that it
would be sound and well in three months' time. So the
days came and went, and his soul rose tentatively on
its wings. Often it would fly abroad, seeking for the
comrades who were fighting and suffering in the cold
up there in the north. It fluttered down to the grimy
little men living like beasts in the trenches, waiting with
dull eyes to be led to slaughter. It hovered over many
graves, and lingered often about that strip of sand where
the big body of his brother officer had been laid to rest.
And then it would come rushing back to the present, to

236 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

the sight of a slender girhsh figure, where it rested,
feeling safe and warm, as in a world of flowers. The
world without was dry and withered, the climate so
harsh that the little herb of truth could not grow there.
The papers made that plain. Zillner read the brief,
evasive communiquis from the General Staff, and the
carefully turned comments. He read the laboriously
constructed accounts sent in by special correspondents,
whose work it was to make thrilling copy and describe
furious encounters out of such matter as they could
gather in the furnished rooms of the press quarters far
in the rear. He noted with infinite scorn the efforts of
that victorious war-bird who regularly filled his little
column with new and original heroic deeds. ' This way,
ladies and gentlemen — this way for the heroes ! Fresh
every week ! ' And the heroes spread their wings in
the morning edition, and twittered loudly of things done.
As to where the ever-retreating armies had last halted,
this could at best be vaguely conjectured by piecing
together of mysterious allusions. The fable of ' situa-
tion unchanged ' had apparently been abandoned ; but
there was still no definite information that could be
relied on. How far had the troops fallen back ? Zillner
puzzled over the question in vain. The official reports
said nothing, and the war-bird's weekly show of heroes
remained carefully reticent as to the state of things.

Early in December, Karl Albert Kraft was brought
in to the hospital, with a nasty bullet wound in the leg.
Zillner was horrified at the change in his old friend's
face. The quondam enthusiast lay there grey and
haggard, with thin, compressed lips, and spoke bitterly
of what had passed at the front. The Russians had
advanced almost into Krakau itself. ' And we are
simply going to pieces,' he went on. ' The Honveds and
the Ruthenian Landwehr are useless ; the Czech regi-
ments run like hares. Our coips had hardly more than
eight thousand rifles all told, but they go on ordering
us about as if they had forty thousand to play with. It 's

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 287

sheer madness. It will be all over with us soon at this
rate.'

' What — ^have you lost faith now ? '

' I 've no faith in ourselves any longer,' said Karl
Albert harshly. ' Unless Germany comes to the rescue.
German strength and perseverance — that is what we
need ; if not . . .' And he groaned. Then he went on
excitedly : ' I got knocked out about forty kilometres
from Krakau. Nearly taken prisoner too. It was "a
headlong retreat, without any pretence at keeping order.
We were supposed to check the mass of the Russian
advance — hardly a single corps we were all told, a
mixed up contingent of different regiments that had
been shot to pieces and thrown into confusion already,
and the enemy five to one. And then, mark you, as
a piece of sheer lunacy, the main body of our army
from the line of the river was ordered to entrain at once
for the north — ^the Germans there were being forced
back on Warsaw, so it was said. We had to reconstruct
our front — yes, that 's what they call it — and temporarily
evacuate, etc., etc. The whole thing was carried out
in a frantic hurry ; at the first news of that reverse in
the north, we gave up the whole of the country we had
won back at such a cost — every foot of it bought with
blood I And all simply thrown away ! '

' I couldn't understand it either,' said Zillner. ' Fall-
ing back continually, without plan or order — just as
we rushed in headlong last August, with no idea of
what we were going to do. I was wounded on the third
day of the retreat — I never dreamed it would be as big
a thing as you say.'

* You were lucky ! ' said Karl Albert with a bitter
smile. ' It was only just beginning then. The rest
were bundled off headlong to the railway, and sent on
from there. Our corps was ordered to stay behind and
check the enemy as far as we could. We hung on as
hard as we could — the German regiments . . . but what
could we do against hundreds of thousands ? It was
only a question of time.'

288 ' CAPTAIN ZILLNER

' And the German operations about Warsaw — what
happened there ? '

' The Germans faced about and pressed forward again.
It was only a temporary retirement. But we had given
up miles of our own territory, after it had cost us no end
to win it back once. It 's enough to make one sick.'

' And what do you think will be the result now ?
Surely they won't let the Russians surround Krakau ?
It would throw open the whole of Silesia and Miihren.'

' Oh, they '11 wait and see how things go on. That
is to say, they see the Russians making a happy little
parade ground of the whole country, and they look on —
giving them time to strengthen their position. And by
the time the enemy 's dug himself in, made first-rate
systems of trenches and got up his batteries into ex-
cellent positions — then they '11 have a sudden fit of
energy, and set to work to try and turn him out. Like
letting a burglar get comfortably into the house, watch-
ing him barricade himself neatly, and then suddenly
coming to the conclusion that he 's no busmess there at
all. It 's the ghastliest muddle ! We shall be the
laughing-stock of the world ! '

Zillner looked at his friend in much concern ; the
bitter irony with which he spoke was altogether unlike
his ordinary genial optimism.

' You think it 's hopeless, then ? '

Karl Albert shrugged his shoulders. ' If our allies
in the north come in and help us, stiffen us up and push
us on the right way, we may pull through. If not . . .'

' Sunday, then. You can come to dinner, and tell me
all about your little passage of arms with von Kreutzen.
It was a mad thing to do, but it 's just like you to do it.'

Clarisse smiled under her veil, and pressed his hand as
he lifted hers to his lips. Yes, he would come to dinner.
The Kamtnerstrasse was crowded with well-dressed
idlers ; he watched her till she disappeared in the throng.
The accidental meeting had taken him by surprise.
How handsome she was — and as young as ever I The

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 289

heaviness of the times had not touched her ; she spoke
of the war as if it had been a charity bazaar.

Zillner strolled down towards the Opera, feeling a
little chagrined. Her easy assurance of manner as she
greeted him had thrown him into a momentary con-
fusion ; the charm that lay about her like a splendid
garment made itself felt even now. The frank con-
fession in her eyes, too, had embarrassed hini ; they told
him so plainly that she had not forgotten. It would
have been wiser not to have accepted that invitation.
Still, there could be no danger now. He was steeled
against all other charms by the thought of one young
girl, modest and sweet as violets, fresh and pure as the
waters of a mountain spring. He could only think of
her in lovely words. It would have been better, perhaps,
to have avoided any further meeting with Clarisse . . .
but it would have been awkward to explain. . . . After
all, to go and dine with an old friend — it was ridiculous
to take such a trifle seriously !

The crowd flowed past him^ pulsing with life and the
longing for life. Women with rounded arms, and eyes
that seemed to beckon him with a promise — life — the
same life that only some few kilometres off was shed in
waste upon the sand. Perhaps the very worthlessness
of life there made one the more eager to drink deep of it
here. There was a dance of death toward, and those
whose lot it was to sit out were aglow with a double
fervour. The air was full of chattering and cooing,
heraldmg the duel to be fought for the life that was to
come. The women had with sympathetic mimicry
adopted the feldgrau colour of the men, and tripped
about, ready and eager to do their part for the future of
the race ; the part that should make them mothers of
heroes or cowards, great or small, wise men or diplomats.
Dark shadows, mothers and wives in mourning, flitted
through the throng, trailing black robes, black veils — a
living accusation against the war that had taken their
dear ones. But the life of the crowd, unheeding, un-
concerned, save for itself, laughed brutally. Let the

240 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

dead bury their dead — think of the Hving and the Hving
that are to come. And life was right — the Hfe that goes
on cannot pause to think of the dead.

There were, fewer men than in times of peace, but
always more than one seemed to expect ; men with
some physical defect which rendered them unfit for life
at the front, and others who were considered indis-
pensable in the multifarious life of departmental work.
All of them appeared to realise that their sex was at a
premium. But the real heroes — they strode like gods
among the rest. The women flocked about them,
slipped by them with a touch that pretended to be
inadvertent, hardly concealing the desire that was
constantly whispering within. There were many heroes
abroad that day. Some limped on crutches ; most of
them had one arm in a sling, as Zillner himself. Some,
too, wore a becoming black bandage across the face,
hiding a first gentle reminder from the man with the
scythe.

And life called : you are the chosen, take what is
yours. Make the most of the hour that remains ; drink,
and drink deep of the sweetness, for the time is short.
To-morrow, perhaps, the hail of lead will strike you
down. Drink, and do not let life slip by. . . . And they
heard, and took. It was war time, and they made their
wooings short, and bade defiance to the fate that called
them to the slaughter. The departmental heard, and
strove not to be left behind. Even the brainless drones
of diplomats, it was said, made progress in that time of
death. Only the refugees from wasted Galicia trailed
in melancholy flocks up and down the streets, talking
excitedly, and with wild gestures accusing heaven. But
even they answered to the call of life. And life smiled,
knowing that all must pay its due ; knowing that its
grim antagonist must be outdone at last.

Zillner walked back to the hospital under a blazing
sun, with the witching murmurs of the eternal mystery
ever in his ears.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 241

Under a blazing sun he strode through days and
weeks. The noises of the happenings in the north and
south came to him only as a faint echo. All Vienna
seemed wrapped and muffled to keep out the hellish din
of pandemonium that rose from the places where men
died. The fugitives cried aloud, but their voices were
discreetly muffled by the press till their tale could be
heard without offence. Only once, when the melody of
' Prinz Eugen ' ended in a too violent discord — ^when the
city and fortress of Belgrade, after capture by the
Austrians, was lost again almost at once — only then did
the gay orchestra fail.

Karl Albert cursed and swore with German thorough-
ness, and Zillner called to mind the evening at the
Konzert-Haus, when Zapperer had talked about how
Serbia was to be crushed, how the plucky little country
was to be laid at His Majesty's feet by the middle of
August at latest. . . . The Chief, it will be remembered,
had been of the same opinion.

It was now the middle of December, and the tones of
''Prinz Eugen ' v/ere drowned in a swamp of blood.

Christmas Eve came round, with its beauty and kind-
liness and gifts. Women's hands had been lovingly at
work upon a Christmas tree for the wounded ; its
' Peace on earth ; goodwill towards men ' shone out so
grandly aloof from war and the doings of war, that
Zillner forgot all that had been, and gave himself up to
the good old customs and to the gaze of a pair of warm
brown eyes that shyly sought his own. And the second
star that beckoned him — the beacon of a meaner desire
— paled and died out that night.

How pure and delicate she was.

Karl Albert, heated by Christmas cheer, flung about
impatiently in bed. ' What 's the sense of lying here
doing nothing, and being spoiled by the Sisters, bless
them ! We 've no business to be idling here any more.
The others are dying out there, while we are making
love. Yes, you too — I 've seen you making eyes at

Q

242 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

Sister Erika ; I 'm not blind. A nice sort of soldier,
aren't you ? '

Zillner laughed. ' Yes, it is about time we got out of
all this. But we shall have to wait a bit, I 'm afraid.
You hobble about as lame as a General Staff report,
and my arm 's not much better.'

* H'm,' grumbled the painter. ' It 's all very well
for you — ^tied up to a petticoat. But I 'm getting sick
of it lying here doing nothing, with the biggest thing
we 've ever been in for going on out there — and we 're
out of it all.'

* Lying up like pashas and getting fat,' laughed
Zillner. ' You 're right. It 's time we were out of it.'

But Zillner's thoughts were far from war and battles,
sailing over a rosy sea.

Then came a day when the warm south wind played
among the trees of the park, and Karl Albert stepped
out over the wet gravelled walks, trying the strength
of his leg in a march at the regulation pace. ' Hurrah ! —
getting on finely,' he cried, and looked round beaming.

And Zillner held out his left arm, and swung it round
in circles. ' All right again now.'

And chaos grasped at them, calling them back to the
places whence they had come ; they had but one thought
now — ^to report themselves as fit for service again.

The spring might rustle there among the trees full of
rising sap ; might shake the buds with the impatience
of a lover till they awoke and opened out ; might sing
its loveliest songs from the throats of happy birds — the
two men did not heed.

Karl Albert was full of great majestic thoughts ;
the call of his splendid race in its hour of need ; he was
burning to be in action once more, to feel himself a part
of the giant body, a living atom in the mighty Pan-
Germanic force.

Zillner's heart suffered at the parting. But his
soldierly faith was growing stronger, and he helped it on
as bravely as he might by the thought of the grimy,

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 248

wearied men, the poor simple souls that suffered out
there. And he felt himself longing to be among them
once more.

Next day the two men went off in a car, and a girl's
eyes watched it till it disappeared through the gates, and
left her gazing into the sky, that rose bluely over the
spring-swelling trees.

And Sister Erika groped her way slowly up the steps
into the house.

CHAPTER XIV

In Vienna the heavens had drawn their hght of spring
from eyes bright with girhsh, reluctant longing. In the
little Hungarian town the sky was grey. There was no
need of brightness there : who would have cared for it ?
Not the peasants and drivers, urging heavy-laden
waggons through the sticky swamps that served as
roads, nor the soldiers dragging mud-burdened boots
through heart-breaking depths of mire. Not even the
quondam Brigadier, now further promoted to Field -
Marshal, who had for three weeks past been ' holding the
position.' He sat in his little town, a dismal pessimist,
bowed over his microphones, and would not have heeded
the sky however bright it might have been. No, grey
was the only suitable dress — for all concerned.

And so the sky looked down sullenly over the land,
as if cast in lead I A great dome of unbroken grey,
melting away in the south into undulating country with
low hiUs, and sharply serrated on the north by the black
points of the pine forests. Mightily, heavily, it rose
from the mountains there, where the far guns could be
heard thundering sullenly. Grey, all grey, a lashing of
whips and cursing of men, a creaking of waggons and
gasping of horses, the plodding of heavy boots through
the mud — all seemed grey as the sky.

Zillner and Kraft had come out with drafts of reserves
from the depots to join their regiments. They listened
to the voices of the guns, and knew that chaos was near^
Heavy guns roared out a welcome : ' Come, all is as it
was ; you will find what you left. Last time at the river,
now in the mountains.' Like a great bell calling cattle
to the slaughter — so rolled that thunder from the hills.

The two friends marched silently side by side, the new

'Hi

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 245

recruits behind them, weighed down with the burden
of their winter clothing and accoutrements, plodding on
into the unknown. In a little village not far from the
forests that cut off the leaden sky, they separated ;
Kraft had still many kilometres to go, but Zillner had
reached his destination now, and went in at once to
report.

Colonel Zwirner sprang up from his armchair with a
certain hurried geniality of manner, rang his heels to-
gether, and slapped Zillner on the shoulder, with an
ingratiating smile. ' Delighted to have a good man
back again,' he said heartily. ' The position at present
is this. . . .' And he went on to explain at consider-
able length the disposition of the troops on the hills,
the scheme of their defences, and how they had hitherto
contrived to bar the way against all attempts of the
Russians to force a passage into Hungary. The regi-
ment had done excellently. ' Hold on stubbornly, and
never yield a foot. That must be our motto,' he con-
cluded, * until our German allies can come up — then
forward, shoulder to shoulder ! The eyes of Austria are
upon us here— ^that must nerve us to maintain the
struggle.' Another clap on the shoulder, and a ring of
the spurred heels : ' Auf Wiedersehen ! '

Zillner had an uncomfortable feeling of having heard
it all before, only to be disappointed. This new man
certainly proffered the stereotyped phrases with a certain
forceful confidence, but he was clearly of the sort whose
one main interest is their own advancement ; one could
not altogether trust him. There was a suspicious
twitching of the comers of the mouth, his eyes were
restless, and his forehead wrinkled and smoothed con-
tinually, betraying a current of thought not always
agreeable to himself.

' Looks a better sort than the last,' commented Zillner
afterwards, speaking to the Adjutant outside. ' What 's
happened to Colonel Prapora — have they made- him
Brigadier already ? '

Captain Wiirkner sat in a sort of pantry, drawing

246 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

maps. His face, always pale, was grey and haggard now
from want of sleep. He shrugged his shoulders in
answer to Zillner's words : ' The last man — ^no, he 's at
a sanatorium. Nervous breakdown. It was about
time too. You 've no idea what we had to put up with
before their lordships saw what was wrong. The regi-
ment was simply going to the dogs. As for myself —
well, if we hadn't got rid of him, I should have blown
my brains out, I think. All this winter . . . you may
think yourself lucky you were out of it.'

* But now ? It 's not so bad as it has been, I hope ? '
' Oh, things are — well, better than they were,' said

Wiirkner slowly, and his near-sighted eyes wandered
indecisively over Zillner's face. ' We manage somehow.
You '11 see for yourself very soon. Zwirner is one of
those fellows who pat everybody on the back — you know
what I mean, so don't make too much of 3''our reception
to-day. Still, he 's seen service, at any rate, the last
year, and has some idea of handling men.'

* Plenty of energy, it seems.'

* Yes, I dare say. He 's not altogether a neuras-
thenic wreck up to now, seems to have some grit in
him, and isn't always bothering about his bomb-proof
shelter as the last man was.'

Zillner looked at the other in surprise. ' You 've
changed a good deal yourself,' he said. * I 've never
known you speak so bitterly before.'

* Changed ! — H'm, well, yes, I dare say one does, you
know. If you 'd been through these last few months
here ; men dying off uselessly in front, and a fool of a
colonel behind, and behind him again the Division Com-
mander— it 's a wonder I 've any wits left. We 've
picked up a bit lately — the Germans are coming to help,
so they say. But three weeks ago, when we set out to
relieve the fortress and failed ... It was the usual
thing ; advance at haphazard, then rolled up and head-
long in retreat. I 'd a thousand times rather have an
honest bullet through the brain than go through all
that once more. Ask the Major — he '11 tell you what it

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 247

was like. I haven't time now. See this — coloured
sketches of the ground held by battalions, ** with profiles
of all defences " — for Division Headquarters, you under-
stand. They don't leave one much time.' And Wiirk-
ner bent over his colour box and papers once more.

Zillner went across to battalion headquarters. Major
Blagorski, too, was changed. In the half dark of the
little room sat a grey shadow of a man with a straggling ,
moustache ; a shadow, that greeted him with melan-
choly friendliness, offered him a chair, and poured out a
couple of glasses of liqueur brandy. ' Glad to see you
back, Captain. There aren't so many of the old lot
now. We can't complain, though. Grill and Crlenjak
are here still. But Pfustermeyer — ^well, you know, of
course . . . and poor Hallada ! he was always a little
afraid of me — I don't know why. Yes, they 're gone.
. . . And I 'm the only one of the battalion com-
manders that 's left. Take a drop more ? Yes, we 've
had a hard time of it this winter. Fighting nearly every
day. . . . Let me see, what was your company ?
Number four — ^yes, yes. You won't find many of the
old ones left. The little cadet, the Hungarian, what
was his name — he was shot, and the other one died of
fever. Makes one feel lonely in a way. . . . Sort of
left behind, you know. . . .'

A wave of bitterness and anger surged through •
Zillner 's heart. He too — ^Andrei. The brave boy with
eyes of a young eagle, his favourite, and now picked out
by blind, mad chance. . . . The Major sat drumming on
the table with his fingers, murmuring to himself, ' Left
behind, left behind.' His eyes were full of tears. Then
suddenly, as if ashamed of having betrayed his feelings,
the grey old soldier sat up stiffly, and cleared his throat.
' Doesn't do to think too much. No. And you mustn't
fancy, from what I 've said, that ... I mean ; it 's
not so bad, you know, after all. We 're fit enough, and
we can hold on all right. The men are good stuff, the
younger ones especially. The oldsters are a trifle
nervous perhaps. But taking it all round, things

248 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

aren't so bad. Not bad at all. There, my dear fellow,
you '11 see we shall manage all right. You 'd better get
some rest while you can. We 're in reserve to-day.'

Zillner turned to go. In the doorway, the Major
called him back. ' By the way, there 's one thing . . .'
He put on his glasses and fumbled among the papers on
the table. ' Army order — and a nasty one to hear.
Here it is.' And he read aloud : * " Army Order. In-
telligence Department reports that the Russians are
organising Czech battalions to take part in the opera-
tions on the Warsaw front. Russian prisoners confirm
this, and state that Austrian prisoners of Slav origin
are invited to enter these battalions, especially those cf
Czech nationality. It has further been found that
Russian agents are distributing certificates to Czech
soldiers testifying to their Pan-Slavonic sympathies. In
order to combat these treacherous intrigues, company
commanders will frequently and without warning search
the persons of the men, with a view to ascertaining
whether any are in possession of such certificates, or
other documents, emanating from the Pan-Slavonic
propaganda. Any men on whom such papers are found
will be handed over at once under escort, to be dealt
with by the Divisional Command."

' So you see there 's blackguardism about,' went on
the Major. ' Not among our people, I 'm glad to say ;
still, you never know. The new Colonel — yes, he 's very
nice and obliging always — he says the same thing :
Can't be too careful. So you 'd better make your
visitations according to order. Servitore, Captain.'

Zillner found his company greatly changed in outward
appearance. Almost all the men were new to him ; the
few old hands looked almost grotesque in their ragged
uniforms, supplemented now by all sorts of civilian
winter clothing as worn by the natives of the country
round. Woollen hose and kneewarmers, jerseys, short
fur coats of peasant make, felt boots, and knitted
mufflers, often in the queerest combinations. The
inevitable coating of dirt over all gave them at any

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 249

rate a uniform colour. The ugly regulation headgear,
which gave its wearers the expression of melancholy
clowns, had almost entirely disappeared, being replaced
by fur caps. Only the nineteen-year-old recruits were
still neat and shining — even the lice hardly ventured to
approach them, as yet. But a few weeks in the field
would soon give them the proper tone and aroma. . . .

Nechleba, the scapegoat, was frankly pleased to see
his captain again. And Zillner noticed that he wore the
silver medal for courage on the breast of a looted yellow-
grey Russian cloak. He said a few words of commenda-
tion, and the man explained with pride how he had
taken a Russian officer prisoner while out with a patrol.
' And here, sir,' he went on, turning up the stock of his
rifle — ' Sixty-five of them up to Aow — all noted down.'
He pointed with a grin to the ugly row of notches that
marked his ' bag,' and stood as if conscious of having
done something especially worthy of praise. But
Zillner, looking into the fierce, wild face, with its black
tufts of hair and beard, shuddered inwardly at the
primitive bestiality of the man, and dismissed him with
a perfunctory '' Schon gut, schon gut.'

With such men, he thought, one might conquer the
world — ^but what a world ! Ashes and ruins, a desola-
tion of misery and tears. With men of that type,
Ghengis Khan and Tamerlane had laid Europe at their
feet ; the Turks had advanced to the gates of Vienna.
The Nechleba s of the seventeenth century had formed
the staple of that motley horde which for thirty years
had trampled Germany underfoot. All for the glory
of God — the God that sided neither with Luther nor
with the Pope, but only looked on well pleased to see
how men tortured and slew their fellows in His cause.
Of the same type, too, were the men from whom
Napoleon had drawn his finest warriors, the indomitable
ones on whose breast he pinned the red -ribboned cross
with his own hand. It was they who gave his mighty
spirit the hand with which to smite ; tigers of battle
they were, beast-men, without restraint or scruple.

250 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

cunning, wild, and cruel. Here was a man who had
been in prison, and now wore the decoration coveted
by heroes. In time of peace, thick walls were built to
keep him apart from society, and thin-skinned laws
sought to prevent the type from spreading. To-day
he wears the Emperor's image in silver on his breast,
and is honoured and admired by those who would before
have drawn aside from him haughtily or in fear. Wild
sacred force of war ! Let loose the chiefs of the Apache
bands, manslayers and past masters of the trade of
murder ; open the doors of gaols and turn the stream
on to the fighting line, fill the trenches with undis-
mayed artists in slaughter, the leaders of the guild — not
lurking cowardly hyaenas fit only to lie in ambush.
Daylight murderers, men who kill openly and un-
ashamed, they are the men who should be soldiers. Put
them in uniform, send them to the front, and they would
win gold and silver medals every one of them. The
gallows-bird who knows his business, the bandit ready
for any foolhardy venture : where would they find better
use for their skill than in war, as servants of its ' wild
and sacred ' force. Men with some slight remains of
culture, men who shudder weakly at the thought of
fratricide, will at the best only drag half-heartedly
through the ghastly work ; even when the lust of blood
is upon them, they can still remember that they are
human beings. But the slayer by nature, the man of
undiluted primitive barbarism, cuts notches on his
rifle butt, and counts over the tale of his victims with
pride and delight. And he is a hero — a winner in the
lottery run by the rule of an eye for an eye and a tooth
for a tooth.

Zillner's thoughts barked at him like furious hounds
as he went to his quarters. And even after he had lain
down in the straw to rest, there was still one that
growled on. Why not let the great roulette players at
the green tables cultivate that type of man for the future?
Have a stock of them ready for the next world -war. In
the sentimental times of peace, those pillars of society

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 251

were often, it is true, liable to be hanged before they
had had time to propagate — society had not properly
realised their value to the race. The war must put an
end to all those sickly scruples.

Wearied, and full of loathing, Zillner fell asleep at
last. But a young girl came into his chamber and drove
the hounds of his thoughts out into the chaos of the
roaring night ; and drew a soft veil over him as he
slept. And lo, the hero Nechleba with his sixty-five
notches vanished away — vanished with all his world
of filth and lice and stoical misery draped in choice
lying phrases. That first night in the Waldgebirge,
Zillner slept in a great light hall, glittering with a
silvery sheen. And his mother entered, a gleaming
figure, with her good, anxious face — no, anxious no
longer, but with a sunlit smile, such as he had rarely
seen. And she led a young girl by the hand, a shy and
slender girl in the black dress of a hospital nurse. ' Tell
him,' said his mother, ' for he cares for you.'

And timidly the girl began :

' Take then my hand, and guide me

Where thou dost wend.
Ever and aye beside me

Unto the end.
Through all the world unheedino-

All else but thee ;
Thy love my footsteps leading

Eternally ! ' *

And he felt her hand, and pressed and kissed it. And
his mother was happy.

So fair were Zillner's dreams that first night in the
Waldgebirge.

Next morning he went out with his new subaltern
to inspect the trenches of the section reserve . Lieutenant
Artur Lewit was an excessively slender young man,
with a businesslike politeness of manner and a thin face
of the rodent type. In civil life, he was a partner in a
drapery firm. He had been three months in the field,

252 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

and his narrow chest was already decorated with the
medal for courage. The two men walked slowly up the
straggling mountain paths to a ridge fortified by a
strong and carefully elaborated system of trenches.
It was a little fortress in itself, with barbed wire
entanglements, excellent machine-gun positions, and
roomy underground quarters for officers and men.
Left and right, the porcupine front extended as far as
the eye could see, taking full advantage of the hilly
and wooded country. The intervals between the
separate positions were filled with abbattis, barbed
wire, and pits lined with stakes, and masked batteries
were drawn up at the village in the rear.

' Impregnable 's the word, sir ! ' said the slender
lieutenant, with an elegant wave of the hand. ' The
sappers have done their work well. Out there in front,
the next ridge — another formidable line. We 've three
positions, one behind the other. Impossible to break
through — can't be done.' He sniffed at the moist air.
' Nothing much doing to-day — slack time.' He pointed
over to the left : ' That corner of the wood there, that 's
c6te 679, where the Collaltos' rayon begins. The
Russians have tried it six times, each time in enormous
force — reckoned to take it by — ^what d' you call it ? —
by sheer weight of numbers. But they never reached
within a hundred yards. And their casualties have
been up as high as fifty per cent. There 's no margin
in that sort of business — it doesn't pay.'

Zillner listened attentively. It interested him to note
the confident, almost arrogant tone of this young
gentleman, who came of a race that had been said to be
of no military value in the field, and only serviceable
to some extent on the general staff. Yet here was a
subaltern, after three months of active service — three
terrible winter months — looking out over the position
with his keen crafty eyes, and talking triumphantly.
A lark sprang up from the ground, and rose singing into
the air, higher and higher ; Zillner watched it floating
like a tiny grey speck in the sky. And for the first time

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 258

after many months he began to feel that the senseless
flick and lash of orders from the rear, the hurry and
confusion, the useless sacrifice of men in aimless advance
and retreat, had after all not destroyed eveiything that
was of value. There were still new forces left, growing
stronger despite all the misery and muddle. The army,
the people, were there still.

' And what do the men themselves think of it ? ' he
asked. ' Are they as confident as their lieutenant ? '

' Why, sir, that 's a difficult question to answer off-
hand.' The draper put his head on one side, with the
air of a business man presiding over a liquidation.
' They 're rather sick of it, to tell the truth, especially
the older ones. But they stick it. Making the best of
a shaky market. They put in all they can, and I think
they '11 go on. Sound, old-established firm, this army !
It 's not going to pieces just yet.'

' But if the Russians can keep on throwing fresh
masses of troops against us here — ^well, it might, I
suppose ? '

' It won't, sir — if you '11 excuse my saying so. I
don't believe it can. Every man here knows what
he 's fighting for. They 've all got their homes, and
they know what '11 happen to them if we are knocked
out here. Each one of them knows that if he runs
away, it means danger to his home, his wife, his business,
and then when things go wrong, he 's done for after all.
So they stick it — hang on to their posts tooth and
nail. It 's a fine thing 1 '

' You 're right there,' said Zillner. ' The finest thing
the war has shown us, the only great thing about it all,
is that wonderful strength of the people. Common men,
bom and brought up under a perfidious system, and
thrust out into sordid, pitiable misery ; each of them
still holds fast by the one real thing behind all the false
phrases, the sense of home. The great ones talk about
the things they 're fighting for, but the common men die
for them ; and their lives are thrown away in what the
great ones of the nation dare to call a righteous cause.'

254 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

Lewit whipped out a notebook with a sudden dexterous
movement. ' I wonder if you 'd mind my noting that
down ? ** Bom and brought up under a perfidious
system, and thrust out into sordid and pitiable misery "
— ^that 's fine I Striking, incisive — very fine indeed !
I was at a commercial school myself — ^we don't get
much poetry there, you know. By the way, sir, I shall
have to report to you now, of course. There are one
or two little trifles — ^men opening their emergency
rations, and little things of that sort. Would you like
the report brought up to your quarters, or to the
office ? '

' At the office, please.'

' Very well, sir. I will go on ahead and give the
necessary orders.' And with a brisk and elegant move-
ment, the draper turned and strode away.

Zillner followed slowly. Larks hovered in the air on
every side, singing and trilling invisibly out of the
grey.

The company commanders dined at the Major's
quarters, where Zillner's air of health and general
fitness excited much good-natured chaff among the
rest.

' Bullet through the shoulder 's not such a bad idea
after all,' said Grill thoughtfully. ' Wish I had your
luck ! '

Crlenjak, the withered mannikin, whose moustache
had grown a shade whiter, murmured half to himself :
' No, it 's a funny thing. . . . Clothes all shot to pieces,
but never a bit of a wound. . . . I don't know . . .'

' Never mind,' said Zillner, ' I haven't a medal to
stick on my tunic, like you. Congratulations, by the
way.'

Both Grill and Crlenjak wore the red and white
ribbon of watered silk that goes with the military cross.

' It will come in time, brother, you won't have to wait
long. Especially since your subaltern is decorated —
and a Jew into the bargain.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 255

' A very queer one, by the way,' put in Grill. ' Plucky,
and up to all the arts of war — like the Maccabees. He
was out a little while ago on a reconnaissance in the
enemy's lines. Managed it finely. Gk)t all but sur-
rounded at the finish, and cut his way through in
splendid style. It 's all rot about the Jews lacking
courage if they 're like him.'

' Wait a minute, brother ' — the little Croat looked
up from his plate and waved his knife in the air to
command attention. ' He may be an exception, but
it 's a fact, about the Jews, as a race. A business
people, but pluck — no 1 As a matter of fact, I don't
understand . . .'

* My dear Jovo,' said Grill, his hard features curving
to an ironical smile, ' you are mistaken. Strength
makes the man, and the Jewish race is full of strength.
I can't see at all why the cold intelligence and rapid
presence of mind that all Jews have should not be
enough to make them excellent soldiers. They have
at any rate energy to subdue the inner man.'

' It 's not, all the same,' cried the mannikin. * And
I '11 tell you why. The Jew is too clever to be what we
call plucky. He looks at the thing, and says to himself
— there 's no business in this ; it 's not a profitable deal.
And so he prefers to keep out of it.'

' You might say the same of many Christians. But
to say that Jews as a whole are a cowardly race is not
fair to begin with, and they 've proved the contrary
hundreds of times, in this war as well as others. I think
we may take it that there are brave men and cowards in
every race. Why should it be otherwise with the Jews? '

' Because — ^well, look at the way they live. Always
turning up to do business in places where there 's no
personal risk, but as soon as it 's a case of a real venture,
with life at stake, there 's not one of them . . .'

Grill put up one hand in protest. ' That 's merely
a popular prejudice. It may have been so to a certain
degree in earlier times, but to-day, the Jew does his
business amid all the dangers of a rather merciless world.

256 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

And he masters his trade, whatever it may be, and
goes on perseveringly, eveiy where. Why should he not
master this ? '

' Well, he 's not sound, you know. You can't trust
him. He 'd give away the Lord Himself if he saw any
profit in it. Not to be trusted, brother — not to be
trusted. Do anything for a price ! And what . . . but
I won't say any more.' The little man was red in the
face, and pulled his moustache furiously.

' You 're prejudiced,' said Grill coldly. ' It 's no
good trying to convince a man. . . .'

' Not a bit, brother, not a bit. . . .'

' Still, there 's a couple of things I 'd like to point out.
In the first place, the Jews have tamed the filthiest and
most dangerous beast that ever walked the earth —
namely, the mob. Organised them — ^with the help of
a few Christians — made men of them and given them
some idea of their own power. A mighty work, far
more difficult and dangerous than taming lions and
teaching tigers to jump through circus hoops.'

' Tamed ! Hoodwinked, you mean. Blinded them
with a lot of swindling hocus-pocus ! That 's all.'

* Even then. It was a plucky thing to start on. And
however they managed it, they have succeeded in
bringing the filthy proletariat to some sense of its human
dignity, taught even the lowest to recognise that God's
image among the poor is no more and no less than
among kings and emperors. Don't mistake me,
gentlemen. I don't say I admire the results, but merely
the thing itself. And then the other thing I would
ask you to remember. You say that the Jew would do
anything for a price. A catchword ! What does it
mean : " For a price " ? Look about you^ and see where
you can find any man who wouldn't do anything for a
price. It 's only a question of how the price is to be
paid. The Jews are no better than the rest of us, but
they are certainly no worse. No worse than princes and
priests, ministers and lickspittle courtiers. The only
difference is that they 're generally cleverer, and better

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 257

able to use their opportunities. And so they come out
on top, and it 's the fashion to run them down for the
way they managed it — especially among those who 're
green with envy because they didn't manage it them-
selves.'

' Well, brother, I don't thinli I 'm green with envy,'
put in the Croat. ' What do you mean ? Bogami !
I swear I don't envy them a bit.'

' My dear fellow, of course I wasn't thinking of you,'
said Grill in a conciliatory tone. And Major Blagorski,
who had been crumbling pellets of bread all through
the discussion, suggested anxiously that they should
change the subject.

There was a pause, but before a new topic could be
started, there came an interruption from without.
The Adjutant entered, with a telephone message from
Division Headquarters that there was heavy fighting in
progress on the heights occupied by the Collaltos, where
strong enemy forces had attempted to break through.
The battalion was to hold itself in readiness in canton-
ments, and await further orders.

The officers hurried out to their respective commands.
The noise of the firing told that the Collaltos were heavily
engaged. Even at that distance one could discern the
sharp, irregular scolding of the musketry and the busi-
nesslike hammering of the machine-guns. The question
as to Jews and their courage remained undecided. The
Major glanced anxiously over in the direction of the
Colonel's quarters. He was wondering whether any
one had noticed that the alarm had found him sitting
at dinner instead of in his office.

Zillner found his company already drawn up ; the
colour-sergeant was handing out reserves of ammunition.
And the innocent object of the Grill-Crlenjak discussion
reported smartly : ' All here, sir. Hundred and thirty-
three rifles ; and three hundred rounds per man.'

The Tiefenbachers were not called upon to take part
in the fighting that day. The firing, that had lasted all

B

258 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

the afternoon, slackened towards the evening, and
ceased altogether by sunset, when the treetops stood
out sharply drawn against the red western sky, and
blue-grey shadows crept over fields and meadows.
And shortly after, news came in that the Collaltos had
victoriously driven back a brigade of the enemy,
almost annihilating a whole Siberian regiment, and
taking many prisoners.

' First-rate stuff, the Collaltos,' said Lieutenant Lewit,
laying his head on one side with a satisfied air, as if
reviewing the turnover after an autumn sale. ' German
regiment. Stand any amount of wear.'

Late that night — the men had been dismissed — the
telephone on Wiirkner's map-littered table called up
again. Urgent !

And a thick voice called along the wires : * Hallo,
hallo ! I 'm the Divisional Staff. The enemy have got
in here. The staff has cleared out. Russians here
already — ^hear what I say ? Hurry up and drive them
back. For God's sake, hurry ! '

The Adjutant called back : ' Hallo ! Who 's that
speaking ? How many of the enemy — ^what ? '

' I 'm Captain Za-Za-Zapperer. Urgent, as quick
as you can I . . .' The voice stopped with a snap.

WUrkner attempted several times to get on to the
Division again, but without avail. The apparatus gave
no answer, but he fancied he could hear the sound of
firing. He gave it up, and hurried across to Major
Blagorski's quarters.

A few minutes later Zillner and Crlenjak were leading
their companies at the double along the muddy road
to the village. The moon was nearly full, and the sky
was full of milky clouds. After ten minutes or so, the
headlights of a big car sprang upon them out of the
vagueness ahead. The senior medical officer and the
head of the supplies stood like pillars one on either
step, the rest of the staff had packed themselves in the
back seat or beside the driver. His Excellency, the

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 259

quondam Brigadier, halted the car, and proceeded to
vent his wrath upon Zillner. ' You take your time,
sir ! The regiment is asleep, apparently. But I '11
wake them up, I '11 wake them up ! The place is to be
recaptured at once, you understand. A nice state of
things, indeed I ... At any cost — ^you understand ?
You have at least, I hope, arranged for quarters for
us?'

Zillner could only say that nothing had been done
with regard to this, as no information had been received
of his Excellency's coming that way at all.

* What 's that ? No information ? Why, I gave
orders. . . . Yes, to you. Captain Zapperer — how is
this ? Did you not pass on my instructions yourself ? *

The answer came in a deferential whisper from the
seat beside the chauffeur : ' Your Excellency — the tele-
phone— er — ^appeared to be out of order. And I judged
it inadvisable to remain . . . our departure imperative.
... I could not quite . . .'

His Excellency shook his head resignedly. ' My
staff ! ' he said bitterly. ' My staff ! A little unexpected
disturbance — and they cannot even arrange for my
quarters. A pretty staff ! But I '11 . . .' He broke
off suddenly, and, turning to the driver, roared out,
' Go on, man, go on. . . .' And then to Zillner :
* You understand. Captain, the place is to be retaken
— at any cost ! '

The chauffeur had got down from the car, and was
busy with the starting mechanism. Zapperer seized the
opportunity, and whispered to Zillner : ' Ah, my dear
fellow — do me a favour ! The archives, you know —
reports, drafts, everything — er — left behind. If you
could manage to . . . awfully obliged, awfully . . .'
His face was a sickly grey, and wore the expression of
Macbeth perceiving Banquo's ghost. This time it was
no mask.

The car got under way and drove off. The little
Croat captain looked after the retreating staff dis-
gustedly. ' Well, they 've got the — ^h'm — stomach out

260 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

of order,' he said philosophically. ' Anyhow, we 'd
better get along.' And he strode off briskly.

The grey snaky lines of men went clattering on towards
the village as fast as the sticky mud allowed.

Shots rang out in the market place. Outside the,
division field hospital, a little way down the main street,
stood a German doctor, waving the Red Cross flag.
' Don't draw their fire this way ! ' he shouted as the
Tiefenbachers hurried past. ' We are unarmed. We
are neutral, in the exercise of our calling. Don't draw
them this way ! '

Zillner could not help laughing at the sight of this
Samaritan gesticulating with the banner of inviolable
neutrality. ' All right,* he called back, ' we '11 do our
best ! '

The medico grounded his flag with a martial air,
wiped his forehead, and snuffled out once more : ' We 're
neutral. In the exercise of our calling. Don't forget ! '

The two companies emerged into the square, and at
the same moment a detachment of the Collaltos hurried
up from the farther side, with loud hurrahs. The
Russians were driven in confusion into the centre, or
tried to make off down the side streets, only to find the
way barred by the bayonets of Crlenjak's men. Zillner
charged into the ragged groups ; they flung down their
rifles and held up their hands. Over seven hundred
men, a whole battalion with their officers, surrendered
on the spot. The officer in command explained that
they had fallen into a trap, through having trusted to a
peasant who had led them the wrong way. He accepted
his fate resignedly, however, with a shrug of the
shoulders, and said in broken Polish : ' For me, the war
is now over. Kismet ! You, gentlemen, will not be
able to say the same. Not for a long time.'

The whole affair had scarcely lasted more than a
quarter of an' hour, and, save for a few men slightly
wounded, there were no casualties. Zillner and Crlenjak
shook hands heartily. ' Does me good, brother,' said

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 261

the little man, * to round up a few of the dogs like that.'
And he looked round contentedly.

A figure came running across from the other side of
the square, where the Collaltos were drawn up — it was
Karl Albert Kraft. He embraced Zillner excitedly.
' Well met again,' he cried, his face beaming. ' This is
the sort of thing to cheer a man up after hospital —
what ? ' He pointed to the groups of prisoners, that
stood silent and helpless, surrounded by bayonets on all
sides. * Nothing very glorious, perhaps, but it does
cheer one up to come out on top now and again.'

'That 's just what I say,' put in the withered mannikin.
' Helps you to keep going. I 'm not as young as I used
to be, but a little affair like this does freshen me up.'

The Mayor of the place came up with an obsequious
smile, and the inhabitants began to approach timorously,
and smiling a trifle anxiously at the victors. The staff
company, which had held out pluckily against superior
numbers until the reinforcements had arrived, took over
the prisoners. And the moon peeped out from a bank
of cloud, and looked down patronisingly on the little
midnight scene.

But Kraft stared up with ardent eyes at the polished
observer of men's weal and woe, charmer and match-
maker from time immemorial. ' Yes, you can look,'
he cried gaily. ' We '11 show you something else before
very long — ^you wait ! '

' Do you often make prophecies to the moon ? '
asked Zillner with a smile.

' Prophecies ? It 's a dead certainty, gentlemen.
We got the news yesterday — the Germans are coming.
A whole army of them, already on the way. We shall
push forward then in style, and oh — you '11 see. Life
will be worth living again now I '

' Do you really think we can muster up a new offensive?
I 'm very much afraid this last winter 's pulled us down
too much. The men aren't what they used to be,' said
Zilhier.

* Aren't they ? You should have seen them this

262 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

evening, as we started out. And they 'd no idea then
it was going to be a walk over. No, we 're sound enough,
only give us the proper leaders. Once the Germans
begin to tackle the business, you '11 see, the slowest will
pick up like anything. And as for the miserable Slavs,
and Slovaks, and the rest of the cowardly mob, they '11
find it doesn't pay to run the wrong way now. The
Germans will cure them of that. And we German-
Austrians, we 've got to show that we 're as good as the
Germans themselves, though they do look down on us
at times. Yes, I know they think we 're just an
effeminate lot, with no nationality, good for nothing
but cookery and operettes. . . .'

* Why, brother, they can't say that now, after eight
months of war,' put in Crlenjak.

* Maybe. But after all, we haven't done anything
much really in those eight months. We 've had
dreadful losses, both here and in Serbia — and with an
army like ours, composed of different elements, and
wretchedly led, it 's been hardest of all on us Germans.
We 've been cut to pieces again and again, because
they had to draw on us every time something went
wrong with the others. But that 's over now. The
Germans are coming down like an avalanche, and they '11
carry us on with them.'

' But this winter in the mountains, brother — ^we
could never have stood that if we hadn't been strong
in ourselves. I don't understand. . . .' The little
Captain shook his Jiead perplexedly.

' Of course — I don't deny it. It was a fine example
of desperate endurance, but passive, passive 1 We're
just rooted to the spot. And we 've no proper cohesion,
or faith, to go on with. All that we 've done here has
been in self-defence, and we shall never make any real
progress till the good old double eagle spreads its wings
a bit. No, once the Germans come, you '11 see I There '11
be some proper flying then.'

* But our leaders will be the same,^ I suppose ? ^^ put
in Zillner bitterly. ' The same old troupe — masters in

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 268

the art of zigzag movement, doing wonders that don't
come off with forces that they try to pretend are in-
exhaustible.'

' We shall keep them, of course. But it won't matter
so much now. They '11 have to submit to the guidance
of clearer heads — there 's no way out of it. ^ And it '11
do them any amount of good. Thank Heaven it 's
come at last — Germany, whole and strong 1 '

Zillner admired the truly Austrian enthusiasm with
which Karl Albert gave himself up to splendid anticipa-
tions ; he envied him his undivided confidence and force.
Crlenjak looked at it differently. He did not at all
approve of this incense on the altar of Germany which
rose from the flame of Karl Albert's words. ' Well, I
don't know,' he murmured, ' if they help us, we 're
helping them all the time. They can't manage alone,
it seems, any more than we. It 's simple enough. I
don't see why we should look upon ourselves as their
servants, and we 've been doing good work of our own
without them.'

' But it 's not enough, my dear Jovo, it 's not enough I
If we 're to . . .'

' I don't care. It 's our own,* said the little Captain
angrily. ^BastaT And he strode off to his com-
pany.

Zillner hurried to Division Headquarters to give in
his report of the night's work. The schoolhouse, where
the headquarters had been situated, was silent as a
palace of a sleeping beauty. The black-and-yellow flag
drooped over the entrance, and a couple of trembling
clerks cowered in the offices. A corporal sat at the
telephone — the only man who had stayed at his post
— ^with the receiver to his ear. The Division had rung
up three times to hear how things were going. ZiUner
went to the apparatus, and stated briefly the result of
the engagement. From the other end came something
like a sigh of relief.

' Is that you, Wiirkner ? ' he asked.

* Oh, thank goodness, yes I His Excellency 's been

264 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

fearfully impatient. Wait a minute, here 's Zapperer,
wants to speak.'

' Hallo, hallo 1 — I 'm Zapperer,' came'^ the new voice.
* My dear fellow, did you see about the papers ? Are
they there ? What ? '

Zillner was able to assure him that the precious
documents were untouched. He had seen them
himself. ' Everything as you left it,' he said.

' Oh, very good — er — thanks.' The voice had sud-
denly taken a less ingratiating tone. And the speaker
rang off abruptly.

The Tiefenbachers tramped off homewards. Outside
the hospital building a doctor stood waiting. He did
not wave a Red Cross flag this time, but stepped up with
a certain dignity of manner to Zillner and announced
himself as ' Dr. Podlopny, of the Medical Staff. May I
beg you to inform his Excellency that the field hospital
under my command, albeit severely threatened, remained
at its post, without a moment's thought of evacuating,
and remained throughout attentive to the call of duty,
the entire staff carrying on its work under my direction
with the utmost coolness, despite the fighting close at
hand.' ■ Zillner promised to do so, and the doctor strode
back, head in air, into the house.

The Lieutenant looked after him quizzically. ' That 's
one of your heroic sort,' he said. ' And doesn't mean
you to forget it.'

Zillner laughed. ' Yes — had his little speech off by
heart, exactly in the style of the official notification
when he gets the bit of ribbon he 's playing up for.
What a picture I First one of them comes out waving
his little banner and in mortal dread of it 's not being
seen, and then, when it 's all over, the other one sees
his chance and hastens to improve the occasion. Tragi-
comic, isn't it I What a miserable race of swindlers men
are, changing their face to suit the need of the moment.
Noisy, screaming charlatans, from the highest to the
lowest, pushing and struggling and gesticulating — ^a
world full of mountebanks and fools, and conceit —

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 265

and yet each one of them with a star of some sort to
lead them on through filth and lies and darkness by some
zigzag path to freedom. To the holy light on new,
broad roads . . .'

' Beautiful, beautiful,' murmured Lewit admir-
ingly.

There was a cheerful buzz of talk in the ranks as the
men marched on ; but little Captain Crlenjak scowled
as he strode through the mire. A little way out from
the village he turned to Zillner : ' I say, I can't make
it out — you and that fellow, the Lieutenant, what 's his
name ? All that nonsense about the Germans, and you
agreed with him ! They are to come and take us by the
ear and lead us around just as they like — is that anything
to be thankful for ? I don't understand. . . . After all,
we 're not children, you know. And the double eagle
can surely fly without German fireworks under his tail.
I don't see any sense in running down your own country ;
I don't like it.'

' I don't run down my own country,' said Zillner
gently, ' but you can't blame KJraft for admiring those
qualities in the Germans which we lack ourselves. After
all, he 's a German himself. . . .'

' He 's not ! ' shouted the little man excitedly.
* He 's an Austrian — or should be ! He was bom in
Austria, his parents and his ancestors lived there. And
he lives there too — Austria is his home, his country. . . .
What has he to do with Germany ? '

' Lives there, yes,' murmured Zillner. ' But his home,
his country. . . . You see he 's an artist, a forceful
nature, a man of warm temperament, who takes life
seriously and thoroughly. How could he ever feel
himself as one of a nation that is not a nation, but an
incoherent assembly of different peoples, with no common
spirit beyond a common dullness, a disconsolate pre-
occupation with mean and trifling things ? In Germany,
he feels how his race has grown great and powerful,
drawing its strength from the German soil. Here, it

266 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

is but a sickly growth, choked by all manner of under-
growth that has been suffered to shoot up round it.
It is not surprising that the German should look to
Germany as his home.'

' But what about me, brother ? I am a Croat — yet I
love Austria as my country. My people have lived
here, and many of them have shed their blood for its
sake; we have not needed Prussian aid to make us
happy.'

' We need them now, because our existence is at stake,
and we should be thankful if they can save us from the
peril which our fools of diplomats have brought upon us
by their work. Itihas been gathering for years. And
now it has come.'

' Fools of diplomats . . . what have they ... I
don't understand. . . .'

' Neither did they, and that is how they landed us
in the mess. Now the whole world turns on us, calling
us to account for their criminal follies- — and we must
look to Germany to help us out.'

' Well, and aren't we helping Germany too ? The
German diplomats are just as big fools as ours. It
makes us quits, that 's all.'

' Not altogether. Our fools were bigger fools, and
there were more of them, and that made the whole
business more complicated. If the Germans help us
now, the balance is in their favour.'

* That is to say you agree with the other man — what 's
his name. Well, I don't understand. . . .'

' I don't look at things in the same way quite. He 's
always rather enthusiastic, you know. I 'm no fervent
admirer of Germany myself, and the Prussian type is
too self-assertive, too boastful and conceited, for my
taste. I 've no sympathy with a race that goes about
glorifying itself to the exclusion of all others, and wants
to be master of the world by fair means or foul. But
the forceful energy of the German people, and the
manner in which it is organised and applied — one can't
help admiring that.'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 267

The little Captain shrugged his shoulders, and made
no answer.

Far ahead on the road two little points of light
appeared, coming rapidly nearer. Then came a peremp-
tory hoot from a motor horn, and the car with the
Divisional Staff rushed down on them at a furious pace,
the column opening right and left to let it pass. The
medical officer and the head of the supplies stood like
pillars, one on either side. The wheels sent up a shower
of liquid mud, spattering it fairly and abundantly over
the ranks on either hand. Leaning back in the car sat
his Excellency himself, with two fingers carelessly
touching his cap in acknowledgment, every inch of him
a monarch restored to his own.

The men brushed the mud from their clothes and
faces, gazed for a moment in naive admiration after
the wonderful thing of speed as it vanished down the
road. Then, facing about once more, they trudged
happily on to their quarters.

CHAPTER XV

The Germans are coming ! The news ran like wildfire
along the line, leaping from point to point and licking
its way down the trenches. It came like a blare of
trumpets to the men on the figljting front, as they sat
huddled up in their dug-outs, holding this little section
or that against the enemy with the silent obstinacy of
despair. It rang like a shout of triumph in the ears of
those who had still some energy and will-power left ;
and loosed the accumulated fury of the winter months.
And it cracked like the lash of a whip over the heads
of the fainthearted, whose brain and nerve had dwindled
and shrunk. The Germans are coming ! . . .

Here, in the Waldgebirge, the united force of the
Austrian people rose up once more. Once more the
thousands of mud -bespattered men, sunk almost to the
level of the beast, began to realise that a miserable death
in the trenches is not the only fate before them. The
white clouds sailing towards the north shone like
bright banners. The cry of the titmouse, the twittering
of finches, the hammering of woodpeckers in the newly
verdant woods, the carolling of the lark in the mellow
air, all rang with a glad note of confidence and hope.
The finger of spring pointed out over the trattipled,
harried land that lay spread out in front of the forests,
and cried : ' On, and win it back again.' And at the rear,
where the staff sat worrying themselves to death in a
mesh of varied embarrassments — ever since the fall of
the great fortress, the enemy had thrown wave after
wave of men in floods against the wall of the defence
where the staffs sat pondering and calculating, draw-
ing circles and cracking the whip of command- at
hazard — ^there, too, the news waked a light in eyes

2C8

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 269

dulled with thought, and the furrowed brows looked
up in relief. The word swept like a storm through
their bundles of papers — ^the Germans are coming !

And meanwhile, the close, heavy columns are already
tramping through the land, pushing on over the roads
towards the mountains, occupying villages, and rolling
themselves up like hedgehogs with spines thrusting all
ways at once. And a thunder of work goes with them.
Orders are flung out ; clear, sharp, decisive. All the
country is alive and busy as an ant-heap in restless
activity ; obstinate, imperturbable and sure. The land-
scape now is stern and firmly set ; there is no longer
that soft, deathly melancholy, no vagueness, no weak
indecision. No ! The countryside wears a casque of
steel, heavier than it had ever borne before ; and
breastplate and greaves and links to hold that armour
firmly in place. The swarming ants make roads where
no roads were — roads hard and smooth, leading up to the
mountain heights, and along them creep the colossal
guns, drawn by huge beasts. Guns, and ever more
guns, day and night. They sink into the earth — they
are bigger and more numerous than before. Behind
the green veil of the woods, axes are at work, and pick
and spade, and soon the monsters are in place, ready
and waiting.

And the great yellow birds fly abroad to spy out
the land. Fives and tens, whole flocks of them, with a
hum and whir that resounds all ( ver the Waldgebirge.
Beyond, they dive deep into the blue of the sky, and
presently return, ladpn with clear, concise information
of the enemy's dispositions, all to be stored for use in the
cold prudent brains that direct the operations from
the rear. The knowledge gathered grows to power, and
gives birth to definite commands. No more groping
and vague guesswork, no more hints as to the possibility
of attacking to-morrow, but knowledge, decision, and
action.

The quondam Brigadier does not altogether like the
new state of things ; the atmosphere does not suit

270 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

him. This hurricane from the north is threatening
to upset him, and whirl him off into all the varied perils
of a swift advance. The methodical holding on, in
which he had excelled, is no longer sufficient, it seems.
A pity I

No, the new order does not suit him. He sits sorrow-
fully regarding his microphones, and wondering where it
will end. Then one night a sudden lightning flashes
down over the Waldgebirge, runs along the trenches,
flickers above the batteries. Attack ! And in the
morning a roar goes up from the world about.

The air is filled with a furious howling and shrieking,
such as had never before been heard on earth. The
forests stand as if turned to stone under a ceaseless
wailing and thundering — the heavy guns are preparing
the way for the new offensive. And over there on the
other side, where the enemy sits in his huge defences,
there is a bursting of shells, a crashing and rending and
shivering. . . . On every side high columns of black
dust are flung up from the ground ; whole ranks of
men whirling and dancing. And as they collapse, lo,
already others have sprung up from where they came !
Corrosive vapours drift along, clinging to breastwork
and trench, and the stoical peasants, the sons of mighty
Russia, die they know not how ! . . . The Germans
have come !

Major Blagorski was just reading out to the assembled
company commanders three new and strictly confiden-
tial orders from the Division command, and purposed
thereafter to supplement them with explanations
furnished by the Colonel according to his own lights.
The Major had already settled his glasses on his nose,
and commenced to dilate upon the particular views held
by the Colonel regarding Point I. in the special direction
for fighting in wooded country. ' The Colonel, gentle-
men, wishes particularly to point out, in the first place,
that the different detachments must throughout keep
in close touch one with another. The strictest pre-

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 271

cautions . . .' There was a knock at the door. * Come
in, man, come in,' said the Major impatiently.

The door opened, and a gigantic figure seemed to
grow up in the room. The figure hesitated a moment,
uncovered a close-cropped head, and steered directly
for the Major himself. Then it clicked its heels together
and stood motionless, and far up in the air, from under a
toothbrush of a moustache, came a snarl : ' Captain von
Schmellenthin, of the 334th Royal Prussian Infantry,
has the honour to report his arrival in cantonments
with a battalion.'

' Very pleased to meet you, comrade,' said the Major.
' Won't you sit down ? ' He drew out a chair, and laid
his glasses and the papers aside.

The imposing figure clicked its heels together sharply
once more, and made a slight inclination of the upper
part of the body towards Crlenjak, Grill, and Zillner.
' Von Schmellenthin ! ' Then he sat down.

The Major pulled out his cigarette case and offered
it. ' Will you smoke ? '

' Many thanks,' said the Prussian, and clicked his
heels.

Grill inquired politely where their new comrade had
been serving hitherto.

' In France. They 've sent us over now to clear up
some of the muddle on this side,' said the giant airily.

The Major cleared his throat. ' Pardon me, Captain,
there is no muddle on this side. The position here is
difficult, very difficult. We have held out all through
the winter — more than three months.'

The giant bowed slightly as if accepting the amend-
ment. ' Yes, yes, of course,' he murmured,, and, leaning
back, blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. ' But
we must push on now, and go for them thoroughly.
The new offensive . . .'

Crlenjak filled a small glass from a bottle on the
table. ' The local poison, comrade, if you 'd care to
try it.'

The Prussian lifted the glass on high and emptied

272 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

it at a draught. 'AH helps the circulation. Thanks.'
He clicked his heels together again. ' The offensive,
I was about to say, will be carried out in earnest this
time. First pulverise them small with shells, and then
go in and settle them out of hand.'

Grill looked at the newcomer curiously. ' Our men
are rather done up,' he said. ' I 'm afraid there 's not
much kick in them now.'

' Really ? My fellows are like children ; like simple
little children, I assure you. I only have to say :
" Now then, lads, at them and give it them hot " —
and they '11 go anywhere.'

' Sounds very nice,' said Grill. ' Theoretically, of
course, it 's what they ought to do. But when men
are worn out, how are you going to get them to do it ? '

' It doesn't much matter how it 's done — as long as
it 's done. We know what they 've got to do, and it 's
our business to see that they do it. This time there
must be no mistake.'

Grill filled the glasses again, and lifted his own.
' Allow me, sir,' he said politely, ' to express my
satisfaction at being called upon to fight side by side
with your countrymen.'

The Prussian bowed. ' Very kind of you, I 'm sure.'
Then lifting his glass, and showing his white teeth under
the toothbrush moustache, he cried : ' Here 's to the
coming victory ! To brave hearts and good comrade-
ship. Major, your servant ! '

The Major blinked in some embarrassment, trying hard
to appear cordial. ' We 're all very happy, I 'm sure,
to — er — shoulder to shoulder. . . .'

* And victory to victory — if God wills it so — ^and He
will ! ' said the giant decisively.

' Let us hope so,' said the Major, who did not seem
so certain of the Almighty's intentions.

' Donnerwetter ja ! ' The big man rose to his feet
with a sudden movement. ' An excellent liqueur that
— thanks very much. And now. Major, if you will
excuse me, I had better get along and see how my fellows

CAPTAIN ZILLNER ^8

are doing in their new quarters. Auf Wiedersehen ! '
He shook hands, and then, with a jerk of the body, a
cUck of the heels, the visitor from the north strode off,
a tall, upright, heavy figure, too big for the httle low
room.

The withered mannikin looked after the retreating
giant with a frown. ' H'm — a Prussian. Not a com-
panionable sort, and talks too much. ... I don't
know . . .'

' He 's not an attractive type,' said the Major.
' Thinks a little too much of himself, perhaps.'

Zillner said nothing. His thoughts were far away
from the war and his surroundings, busied with the
memory of a girl.

But Grill, who was cold and calculating as a rule,
and very careful of what he said to a superior, broke in
warmly : ' Why, sir, as for being attractive — men of
forceful character rarely are. The voice of Germany
speaks through this one man, as through every one of
his countrymen. He would not be a Prussian if he
spoke otherwise. They are born conquerors ; able,
unscrupulous, accustomed to trample down all resistance.
They cannot be attractive to others ; it would be un-
natural if they were. We have adopted a friendly
tone towards all the world, and we have done nothing
but lose ground for more than half a century. What
have we gained by it at all ? A pitying, condescending
smile, and some compliments from the world of fashion
and the theatres. That 's all we get by being inoffensive.
Nothing more. We are a weak-kneed lot, and they
are men. I might be the same if I could be born
again among them. No, any one who likes can be
attractive — I 'd rather be strong. You 're not offended,
sir?'

The Major waved his hand. ' Not at all, not at all.
What you say 's perfectly right. But I certainly think
they are a little — ^what shall I say — a little too harsh
in their manner. Yes, harsh. . . .'

To Zillner' s surprise. Grill contradicted once more.

s

274 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

' For us Southerners, yes, perhaps. But they are
so astonishingly capable that we must forgive them
their roughness of manner. And then, as a nation —
not only the people themselves are capable, but their
leaders — that is the most impressive thing of all. From
the lowest tp the highest.'

' What about their diplomatists ? ' put in Zillner.

* Well, in their preparations for this war, they certainly
showed themselves a poor lot — almost as poor as our
own. But Germany will get over that. Whereas
we . . .'

* We will get back to business,' said the Major in an
altered voice. ' Note what I say attentively, gentlemen,
please. We never know how soon the occasion may
arise. With regard to fighting in wooded country, the
Colonel further points out . . .'

The Major had the satisfaction of having, by his
tactful intervention, crushed any possibly unpleasant
discussion as to the respective merits of the two nations
in the bud.

The artillery duel had lasted three days and nights.
The Russians were to be hammered thoroughly before
the bayonets were sent in to finish them off. Ruthlessly,
systematically, the guns thundered ; death was hard
pressed to gather in the enormous harvest. And the
great Butcher, with his best blue apron on, smiled
calmly down over the shell -torn ground.

The masses of infantry lay pressed close in to the
breastworks of the trenches ; the men stared up at the
sky, judging from the noise what was coming — ^perhaps
a common shell, or perhaps one of the heavier beasts
that flew with a duller note, or one of the very biggest,
that hummed like a great bee, with a deep bass, the
terrible giant bombs that seemed as if they must
pierce to the centre of the earth.

The men munched their bread and smoked, and died
like cattle, with a dull grunt, when a direct hit smashed
their defences to atoms. Many there were, too, who

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 275

staggered back to the rear, or were carried off to the
dressing stations in the villages, dreadfully mutilated,
groaning, bleeding, and grey with pain and dirt. Often
one might see men on carts, or hobbling down on foot
from the hills, to all appearance unhurt, but with eyes
dulled, like blind mirrors. They seemed unconscious
of all around them, and, if questioned, made no answer
beyond a sullen stare — deaf and dumb, witless, paralysed
with terror, mowed down by the shock of the bursting
shells !

The Tiefenbachers were fairly comfortably off during
those days, being in reserve. They could sit huddled
up deep down in the second line trenches, and it was but
rarely that the high columns of earth sprang up where
they were. Zillner's company even went to a funeral
one day, almost as if it had been peace time — save that
there were fifty corpses to be carried to one common
grave. Fifty men who had died of wounds, at the
dressing station, and were now packed away in tiers,
five deep. . . . The uppermost row lay with upturned
faces staring uncomprehensively at the gestures of a
red-bearded Capuchin pater above the grave, until
suddenly — surely a scornful smile flickered over their
yellow faces ? — a shell came rushing over towards the
battery close by. A whistling and whining in the
air. * Requiescant in pa-ha . . .' The priest came to
a stop. Thank heaven ! — the shell had passed over.
And he began again : ' Requiescant in pa-ha-ha-ce.^ . . .
Then earth on the scornful faces, one more trembling
sign of the cross, and then back, as quickly as possible
to the Division Headquarters, where there were no
shells.

' I 'm sick and tired of this miserable foolery,' said
Zillner to his subaltern, as they walked back. ' Why
can't they just bury the poor fellows with a few green
twigs or a handful of flowers on the grave. Of all the
disgusting scenes one has to see these days, I do think
that figure of the priest with his fire and brimstone is the
worst.'

276 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

Kl Lewit waved one hand deprecatingly. * It 's the
custom,' he said. ' Can hardly get away from it. Sort
of — ^what shall I say — settlement. Most people wouldn't
like to see it done away with.'

' Ah, most people,' cried Zillner. ' Most people. . . .
No, let us gather buds and flowers, little kindly flowers,
to lay on the eyes and foreheads of the dead. It would
be a better thing than the hollow alien patter of a
churchman. And we should think of them, find room
in our heart for each one, and make a vow ; not to forget
them, the nameless ones, the victims of a bestial time,
but to teach those who come after us never again to
suffer their fellows to be slaughtered like beasts. Ay,
till they wake and shout in the ears of the leaders and
rulers, "We are human beings, and not cattle to be
slaughtered. Woe to you if you will not heed." Yes —
that should be their requiem.'

Lewit glanced sideways at him, and noted with
astonishment that his captain appeared altogether
lacking in military ideals. But it is the business
of a draper to make himself agreeable to people
without regard to what he may think privately.
And he merely said : ' Yes, it is sad that so many
should die in vainl Makes one feel dismal to think
of it.'

Zillner did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the
sunset, and his thoughts wandered in a red emptiness
through the wide world.

And the northern gale swept over the Waldgebirge,
cold and keen, a wind that brooked no delay — no
longer fluttering out from right and left in fitful gusts,
no longer dropping every now and then to an asthmatic
wheeze. It was the northern gale, and it threw down
forests and tore up the ground, till the earth shuddered
in fear. Terror flew on ahead of it like heavy showers
of hail. * General attack 1 ' sang the northern gale.
*Make ready. They shall be exterminated in their
earths, the burrowmg fools that still dare to resist.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 277

They shall be scattered abroad like chaff. . . . Make
ready I '

The men in the first line of trenches bowed beneath its
breath, and gathered themselves for a mighty leap.
And those behind in reserve spread themselves out into
thin fluttering ribbons and rolled forward, lashed by its
fury, towards the slopes of the hills. Six, eight lines,
one behind another, miles long, and kilometres deep.
And the northern gale caught up the General Staff and
whirled it away on wings. The quondam Brigadier and
the pseudo -energetics, with their hard faces and their
little brains, the thoughtless sacrificers — it gripped them
all, and they could not break away. And the haiserl.
und k'dnigl. hailstorms, which had so often drizzled
weakly down and missed their aim, were gathered now
into a mighty cloud that swept over the mountains, to
help the north wind crush and trample down all that
stood in its way. A vapour of blood drove before it, with
vomitings and groans. But there was also a rustling
in the treetops. Thus it was with the northern gale !

' Gentlemen ! ' Major Blagorski had assembled his
company commanders in front of the trenches, and his
worn, furrowed face was alight with new youth and new
courage. ' Gentlemen, this time we are to go into action
in the midst of our German comrades. I need not say
more. We have always stood our ground and borne
ourselves like brave men, all. . . .' He swallowed some-
thing in his throat, and his voice grew hoarse. * And
we will now, as soldiers of the Austrian army, win
for ourselves an honourable ... an honourable . . .
Gentlemen, I need not say more. . . . Ah, the Colonel
is beckoning this way, I think. Quickly to your posts,
gentlemen, if you please.'

' We will ! ' cried little Captain Crlenjak. And his
eyes were moist as he saluted and turned about.

The Major glanced uneasily at the Colonel, who was
standing on a mound close by, beckoning with a nervous
hand. ' Advance. Companies One and Two in the

278 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

firing line, the reserve in rear of the centre.* The old
man's soldierly face had once more assumed its wonted
expression of anxious and deferential humility.

Forward, over the tiny field flowers, over ploughland
and trampled grass, the first battalion of the Tiefen-
bachers came at the double, up into the endlessly
.extended ribbon of the firing line. A grain of sand
among the breakers, nothing more, yet with a thousand
glowing lives, a thousand beating hearts. And even
though the Major had not finished his speech, even
though his words had been faltering and his voice
hoarse, yet every man had understood. They had
stood their ground, through frost and heat, in the
filthy, inadequate shelter of the trenches, at the mercy
of criminally inadequate leaders ; and they would do
the same to-day, under the eyes of the haughty
Prussians.

Little Captain Crlenjak looked fiercer than usual
hurrying along on his thin legs, murmuring to himself,
and snipping off flowers from their stalks with his cane as
he went. Once he turned to look back, and caught
sight of the Major striding on likewise. ' Ah, yes,' he
thought to himself, ' we old men. . . .'

Zillner had not a single clear thought in his head. He
walked as if the force of gravity no longer affected him.
He attended mechanically to what he had to do, but
felt nothing, and the monstrous orgy of self-destruction
that was to come, the gigantic collision of hundreds of
thousands of human beings, seemed to melt away in his
soul.

Grill circled round his men like a shepherd dog,
snapping at them threateningly wherever^ he discerned
a baser instinct not yet properly subdued.

The northern gale drove hundreds of thousands of
German helmets and Austrian caps towards the Waldge-
birge. They bame to the first line, and tore the soldiers
there from their holes, to be swept forward with them
in endless ribbons, on and on . . . right up'^'to' the
battered and shattered ruins of the Russian defences.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 279

Here they were met by a furious fire, in which the first
lines disappeared. The rest, bleeding and shaken,
strove to push on. ' On ! ' cried the northern gale.
* There is no other way 1 ' Column after column was
dispersed, but there was no pause ; ever more and more
came pouring out from the dark woods. That hill there
— up and take it, at any cost I '

The Collaltos are being drained of their blood on the
slopes. Karl Albert Kraft, sometime idealist, is now
a shapeless mass of stuff — struck directly by a shell.
He will cheer for Germany no more. But what is Karl
Albert Kraft ? — ^what is the whole regiment of the
Collaltos ? A new regiment to the front, to find a
foothold there among the dead. And that, too, is
shattered to pieces. Another, and yet another. The
hill must be taken — at any cost ! It is the key to a great
position — ^forward, and up, all that have life in them still I
Thus the gale rages, and the masses obey. Ever new
bodies of men are whirled forward up the slopes, spread
out and cover the ground, swarm up to the top with
bayonets like a gleaming white foam in front. Heavy,
redly breaking waves. . . . Then a cheer, the last of the
barbed-wire is down, and a couple of hundred men out
of all those hordes are chosen by blind chance to stand
on the summit as victors. Breathless they are, and
drunk with blood. And they give thanks to the great
Butcher, as he wipes his knife on his sky-blue apron.
Enough for to-day 1 Let them be crowned with
laurel I . . .

Swarms of flies hover about the piled up corpses on
the slopes. Save for the insects, they lie there un-
heeded.

The whole country was carpeted with blood. Thou-
sands and thousands rolled over it. It seemed hard to
believe that these moving masses had once been human
beings with feeling hearts. This thing that pressed on
and on through forest and swamp leaped across rivers,
and rushed with fierce noises up the sides of moimtains,

280 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

was a horde of destructive organisms, driven forward by
the mechanism of compulsion and necessity. Thumping
and shrieking locomotives, hurrying in endless numbers
along the same line of rails, moving undeviatingly forward
till the clockwork in them stopped. What was any
single one of them to the whole ? Ask the sea of the
drops that evaporate and are lost. So they vanished,
thousands and thousands of them, unthanked, un-
noticed. Only where they lay piled in grey mounds,
broken and torn to rags and trampled down, there the
eyes of those who yet remained upright glanced at them
hurriedly, without pity, and looked away.

The Russians fled, but only to positions already
prepared for the event. And time after time they
offered heroic resistance. For weeks the same scene was
repeated — first a thorough artillery preparation, then
massed charges of the infantry, that were thrown forward
like cattle to the slaughter.

The Tiefenbachers were reduced to a fraction of their
strength, as were the best of the Imperial regiments.
Landwehr and Hungarian Honveds dwindled to mere
skeletons. In the brave Landsturm regiments, husbands
and fathers whose hair was tinged with grey joined in
the dance of death with a wild abandon not surpassed
by the nineteen-year-old boys. The flower of the
German army, the Guard, faded and drooped. And
wherever any untimely desire to live became apparent,
as in many of the Czech and Ruthenian units, where the
men cast longing glances toward the rear, the German
taskmasters swooped down ruthlessly : ' Forward, you
dogs ! ' And it was in vain to struggle against the
power of the northern gale, and even the most unwilling
were driven helplessly on before it. And so it happened
that the willingness of the masses to die resulted not
only in the recapture of the fortress, which had shortly
before capitulated owing to a scandal about the stores
of provisions, but also freed the capital, and drove the
enemy back across the border.

The iron-throated song-birds of the daily press.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER * 281

sitting far back along the lines of communication,
evolved new superlatives, and the General Staff suddenly
recollected its own importance. Zapperer drew forth
from his store of theatrical properties the mask that had
been so roughly handled the year before : ' Napoleon on
the march into Russia.' And it suited him now very
well.

But over the graves of the nameless ones strode the
figure of Fame, pointing eloquently to the future.

The Tiefenbachers marched through the desolate
country, harassed and trampled now for the fifth time.
Once more the flames rose high above burning villages,
but there were not so many now to bum. Only those
that had by some chance been spared hitherto could
give fresh fuel now. It was a melancholy display of
pyrotechnics. The greasy priests, too, no longer stood
blinking cunningly outside their churches — the buildings
were in ruins, and their ministers were gone. Some
followed in the train of the Russian armies, others had
found a lodging in Austrian prisons, or, as the most
suitable for many of those orthodox traitors, had been
strung up under the treetops, with a thin cord about
their unwashed necks. And alas, no welcome greeted
the troops as they passed through the villages, no out-
burst of acclamation surged round the columns from
the lands they had set free. Only old men and women
gathered listlessly in their doorways, and uncared-for
children scrambled spider-legged about among the ruined
heaps. Swollen corpses of dead horses lay in the
ditches ... it was the old familiar scene.

Horrors had grown so commonplace that men no
longer seemed to notice anything. Even Zillner himself
remained unmoved. He rode at the rear of his com-
pany, as it dragged on with weary steps, rendered un-
feeling by sheer monotony of dreadful things. The men
on the staffs in the rear were rejoicing over a victory ;
the people behind them again lifted their heads once
more, and a timorous wave of joy swept through the

282 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

country. At last — at last I Thanks to Gk)d and the
Germans!

Zillner, the victorious, felt now no voice within, no
impulse to resist, no solemn conflict in himself. Only
when his eyes chanced to wander over the shrunken
little flock that had been his company, the ragged and
filthy pariahs of war's renown, could he feel a thrill of
furious anger against those who sat comfortably at a
distance weaving their laurel wreaths. At such times
he could think with a wild pain of the future, where
those who had been but day-labourers in the service of
death would be treated to the words and phrases of
hero-worship spoken by eminent liars above the silent
pits where men lay heaped together in a common burial.
He thought of the writers who would celebrate these
charges of cattle driven to the slaughter in heroic epics,
full of thrilling pathos and wordy splendour . . .
touching, edifying, freed from all coarser elements,
and thus fulfilling that aesthetic law which insists that
the beauty-loving soul can find no delight in contem-
plation of the vulgar and obscene. The pleasing lie
would plaster up even these inordinate massacres,
and ready eloquence raise monuments to those who
sacrificed the blood of the nameless that their own
names might become immortal. And Sarapatka and
his fellows, the venal enthusiasts of the lampshade
and the writing desk, would place their talents
at the service of infamy, that the offspring of the
masses might be led on anew upon the same murder-
ous road.

Zillner gazed with helpless affection at the lines of
stooping-shouldered men, whose bodies gave forth a
rank smell of sweat and foul linen. These simple folk,
dumb and blind — ^when would a Saviour arise to loose
their tongues and make their eyes to see ? He that
died upon the cross for their sake, alas. He too had
become a servant of the mighty ones of earth. He was
not the man. So Zillner, loving and respecting the
Qommon people, was melancholy now despite the victory.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 288

despite the northern gale that had raged over the great
graveyard.

Crlenjak, the mannikin, on the other hand, seemed
rejuvenated ; the more he was tanned by sun and wind
and rain, the more his aged body was bowed under the
continuous exertion, the stronger grew his confidence
and hope. ' I tell you what, brother, they 're nearly at
their last gasp now. And it wasn't the Prussians alone
that did it — we were as good as they, every bit.' He
said the same thing every day, looking at Grill and
Zillner as if challenging them to confute him. But
neither of them took up the gauntlet, and the little man
triumphed at their silence.

Early that summer the columns crossed the Russian
frontier. But Zillner's fate decided that he had had
enough, and bade him halt.

It happened late one afternoon, when the advance
came in touch with the Russian rearguard. A shrapnel
was the instrument chosen, and it did its work well,
shattering his right thigh. And he lay on his back in
the grass and saw his mother's face bending over him —
saw it quite clearly, as she stopped to lift him up. And
he was glad. Then the vision faded, with all else, into
a thin silvery mist.

CHAPTER XVI

In the shadowy days that followed, there was but little
that laid hold of Zillner's mind. All things seemed
hovering, floating and flowing out into the infinite.
Colours bloomed out from a grey mist . . . sounds of
music very far away. ... A veil hid all things from his
sight, and he lay beneath it, listening unheedingly to the
confusion of the world. He had lost a great deal of
blood, and felt a strange lightness, as if he had no body
at all ; he seemed to himself like the centre of whirling
circles — the one point at rest while all else was in a
flurry of motion. He was freed, protected, unassailable.
How long had he lain thus t He did not know and did
not care.

Then a harsh voice came trampling into his peace.
He heard it so distinctly, it cut through his protecting
veil, and went like a sharp knife to his brain. 'The
leg must be taken off, my dear sir. You may save
his life, if you amputate at once. Even then . . .'

Zillner felt a sudden anger at this. Who was this man
who talked so carelessly about taking off his leg — ^what
right had he to give orders at all ? He strove to see,
but his eyes refused. All things were veiled . . . veiled
.... Then there was a smell ; sweet, sickly — take it
away 1 And huge grey suns whirling towards him. He
would resist — he would not submit to this. But the
world was shrinking all about him, dwindling to a
column of figures. And he counted involuntarily, furious
all the time with some unknown power that forced him
to keep on counting . . . counting. . . One — two — three
— and up to ten. Then a vast emptiness laid hold of
him, and he sank blissfully exhausted into its embrace.
• •♦•♦««

S8i

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 2g6

Then lying in a bed, groping about in a twilight full of
floating stars and wandering sounds . . . and waking to
consciousness at last. His mouth was clogged with some-
thing that had a sickly taste, and iron bars were crushing
his head ; they seemed to be fastened over the brow,
and tightened with screws at the back of his neck. He
sighed, and strove to open his eyes — helpless again !
The eyelids had been closed, it seemed, with leaden
weights. What was the matter ? He was not ill ?
He set his teeth hard, and strove to wrench his eyehds
apart. And then he saw.

A white figure stood beside him, soft and tall, and
bending slightly down. With a gentle face. Cool
hands glided over his forehead, and took him carefully
under the shoulders and lifted him up. . . . Nausea
... a terrible fit of vomiting that shook his whole
frame . . . then cool hands holding him again, laying
his head gently back upon the pillow. He felt weak
now, but the iron bars about his head were gone, and
the veils had disappeared. He looked over to a row of
beds on the other side of the room . . . saw the sun-
light flooding in through the windows. . . .

The nurse was still bending over him, touching his
forehead with a wet cloth. He looked up at her face ;
the homely features softened to a smile. ' Don't
worry — it was only the anaesthetic. The worst is over
now. Lie still and try to sleep.'

He stammered helplessly. * And . . . ^nd I shall
soon be all right again ? '

' Soon, yes, it won't be very long,' she said softly.

He felt at the coverlet ; there was a queer burning
pain in his right foot, at the toes. He could not reach
so far, and gripped at his knee to draw it up, but the
bedclothes gave under his hand, and collapsed into flat
folds. He felt about . . . there was nothing there.

' But what . . . where . . .' Hastily he felt his left
leg ; there it was, of course. Then what. . . . ' Sister,
sister, what is it ? ' His voice was a cry. ' I can feel
my leg ; my foot ; it huits — ^but it 's not there.'

286 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

The nurse looked at him and glanced away.

* Captain, you 've borne it so bravely up to now — ^you
mustn't . . .'

* Yes, but where . . . ? what has happened ? . . .
My leg. . . .'

The nurse did not speak, but stood looking out into
the sunlight.

Zillner buried his face in the pillow and sobbed.
He felt the convulsion shaking his whole body — ^yes,
both his legs, down to the feet, answered nervously to his
questioning sense. But when he stretched out his hand
again to the right knee he found his fingers closing over
the stiffly bandaged stump. . . .

The nurse had gone. For hours he lay without a
word, staring out at the frame of the window opposite.
Then, later in the afternoon, as the fever increased, he
had a pleasant surprise. His mother came to see him.
And he saw her dear old face and heard her voice :

* You are spared, dear boy, you are alive ! And I am
with you now. What does it matter about the leg, as
long as you are alive ? ' ' Yes, but mother, I shall
have to hobble about on crutches, and all my dreams —
all nothing 1 The girl I was to . . . she will have
nothing but pity for a cripple. Her heart will turn
toward the men who are whole and strong. O mother,
mother I ' And the dead mother he loved stroked
his burning forehead, with hands so soft and gentle,
like no others in the world. ' If she does that,' she said,

* then she did not love you. But you are alive ! '

And he smiled, as at a happy dream, and the Sister
with the plain, kindly face, coming in softly with some
soothing medicine, was pleased. ' He will get over it,'
she thought. He took the powder, and felt that he was
sweating violently ; then he fell into an easy, quiet
sleep. The vision of the dead woman faded, glided
silently away, and was gone. But when the line of the
fever chart rose again, she would return. Those were
Zillner's happiest hours. His forehead was dry and
hot. But she came gliding towards him, the only

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 287

woman in the world, and near and dear to him now as
years ago . . . sat by his side and talked with him in
love from beyond the grave. It was through her alone
that he found courage to live, despite the powders that
showed him only misery in health. Day after day for
many days, she came. But each time her stay was
shorter, and at last she ceased to come at all. Then
they gave him chicken, bread, and wine, and said he
was convalescent. So perhaps she knew that he did
not need her any more.

And then one day, with the midsummer sun blazing
outside, he got up. Nice dark crutches with rubber
tips and padded shoulder pieces to support him. He
stumped along the row of beds, slowly and awkwardly,
and the other patients, still humbly confined to their
beds, watched him and cried : ' Bravo — getting on
finely ! '

And the Sister was quite flushed with sympathy and
pleasure. * Why, you 're doing splendidly,' she said.

' Circus tricks,' he murmured, ' hopping about on
one leg. . . .'

But the Sister clapped her hands as he swung himself
forward in long, gliding movements down the centre of
the room. ' Couldn't be better ! ' she cried.

Zillner sat down, pale with exertion. * Enough for
to-day.' The stump of his leg was aching and throbbing
— and all the time he felt so distinctly as if all that was
needed was to step out firmly with the missing foot. He
could feel every toe in it still.

Gradually he gained strength. The muscles of his
arms grew accustomed to the work, and his left leg
willingly took over its extra share. He was getting
into training ; each day a few minutes longer, a few
yards farther. And the day when he first tried his
way down the polished stone steps to the garden was
a little triumph in itself.

The sun hung in the dark heavy green of the summer-
clad trees, and drew rings and spots of light on the

288 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

gravel paths. He looked at it in a glad surprise, as at
«a new possession — something exclusively his own. He
noted the bees and butterflies as they flew, and was
glad at that — he saw them again after all. The buzz
of insects gave him a warm thrill of joy to hear. And
so he made his way, slowly, down the garden walks.

On the farther side of the garden, where a long row
of houses stretched away in the sunlight, flags were hung
out. Black-and -yellow, red -and -white, and black-red -
and-white thrust out from attic windows and waving
over the roofs, a blare of colour in the blaze of the sun.

Zillner sat down on a seat, and opened the morning
paper. There it was, in heavy type ! ' Fall of Warsaw.
Warsaw in our hands.' And underneath, in smaller
letters and different styles of type, were minor headlines,
arranged with all the effect that typographical assort-
ment can lend to the work of serving up events in a
worthy style. The paper had paraded in full strength.
The matter itself was wreathed and garlanded about
with words, as with roses and laurel. It was as if the
editor in chief had given special orders to his staff to
throw the last reserves of their ardour into the rotary
press, and pour in adjectives and metaphors by the
bucketful, remembering that it was a great occasion,
which would give them a chance to increase their
circulation. There was the competition to be considered ;
it would not do to be left behind in the triumphal march,
and come up with drooping colours in the rear. Zillner
read the leading article and the special correspondence
with a strange delight. It was journalism let loose,
with none of the galling reserve that had been so evident
before. Only the little black flags stuck about coquet-
tishly gave a different note : * Fallen on the northern
front ' . . . * Fallen during operations in the south,' . . .
like little memorial brasses. Specialists in elegy
paragraphed briefly and expressively the loss of this
or that popular hero. The oflicial communiquis were
laconic in the extreme — ^now, with the armies really
making progress, there was no need for the many

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 289

explanatory comments. Enormous columns of figures —
the numbers of prisoners taken — marched past in
sharply cut sentences, and the reports from the front
were built on solid foundations of Russian corpses
numbered by the thousand. The citizens might rejoice ;
here was all that the most patriotic heart could desire,
set forth in correct and methodical order. Warsaw
taken by storm, ideal leadership, heroes, mountains
of dead, prisoners, and so on !

Zillner laid the paper down. His soul refused to fire
up in enthusiasm at the bidding of the carefully chosen
phrases, but he looked at the flags, and was glad.
Those symbols of the people's strength, black-and-white,
red-and-white, to his mind they waved in honour of the
nameless, common men, whose willingness to die had
a quality of mysticism in the monstrous crime against
humanity by which they had fallen. To his mind, they
waved above the graves of unknown heroes whose
martyrdom should pave the way to banishment for the
atrocity of war. . . . Ay, first strew their graves richly
with flowers, and then, let all strong arms be lifted
towards heaven, and all sound minds unite in a con-
fession that should ring with one voice through all the
earth : * We will be men henceforth, not cattle for the
slaughter.' Yes, that must be the end of wars now, for
all time. So he thought, as he rose, and, inspired by his
dreams, made his way rapidly along the path.

He moved with lifted head over the spots of sun-
light on the shady walks, weaving golden dreams . . .
golden dreams ! . . .

And in his joy at life thus regained, in his rejoicing
over the sun that watched and guarded all its little
ones — the fruits with their ripening juices, the tiny
insects humming with vitality in the noonday heat,
creatures with six legs and those with four, and most
of all those with two — all humming together in a mid-
summer chorus of rejoicing — Zillner felt that he, too,
must join in.

Join in ! — and he a cripple ? But what matter ? Had

T

290 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

he not a warm heart, and the strength of youth ? And
had he not now for months borne with hun through the
chambers of hell the image of a bright-eyed girl ? Early
that spring . . . yes, it was long ago now. He had
never heard from her since, but the perfume of their
gentle meeting, the wordless intuition that had filled
him then, still hung about him. And as he gradually
emerged from the ghostly twilight of sickness, and from
the thought of his own disaster, and could declare for
life in spite of all, he felt more and more intensely the
need to find and see her once more, this girl whom he
could not forget. But how ? How was he to find her ?
He sat under the deep -green trees, pondering ways and
means, and drawing figures on the gravel with his crutch.

He would not go to see her at the hospital. Should
he write ? He felt a kind of shame at the thought of
thus seeking her out and bringing himself before her
again, now that he was as he was. How could he ask
her to look on it — she who was whole and fresh and
strong ? No — he could not do it. He could imagine
how it would be ; she would look at him, and see what
had happened, and start in surprise — then she would
say some words of pity — and then walk on beside him,
always with side-long glances at his disfigurement. For
after all — good and sweet as she was, she was still a
woman . . . and he a man who could never be seen with-
out his crutches, whom one could only look upon with
pity . . . pity I . . . No 1 It would be unbearable.
Better never to see her again at all !

When he thought thus, all the bitterness of his ship-
wreck rose up in him. He cursed the smooth tiny
ripples on the sea of life over which his happier fellows
could so gaily dance. And when one of them passed him,
a comrade, walking easily and confidently upon his two
sound legs, a horrible envy gripped him. He would
stand watching, with clenched teeth, noting every
movement, all the ordered and effective play of muscle
and sinew — a runner, able to enter for the course of
life, a favourite in the race — while he himself . . .

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 291

was scratched at the last moment. He — ^he, to be out
of it all I He clenched his fists at the blind goddess
of fate : what had he done that this should be his lot ?
. . . But as he stumped forward again along the gravel
path, a ray of comfort came to him, came with the sun-
beams, down through the dark trees that rose towering
towards the sky. She was not like the rest. She could
not be. She would look on him as she had done in the
spring. As she had done then. . . . She would not
even notice what had happened — or, better, she would
look on it as something utterly immaterial, since he
himself was unchanged. There was a rustling in the
branches of the old trees, and the sunflecked shadows
danced — a foretaste of joy, of happiness to come. . . .
But as he thus groped back and forth between light
and gloom, seeking for the narrow and difficult path to
the open, a woman watched him from the high windows
of the hospital corridor — ^the Sister with the homely
face that had no beauty to draw men's looks. Often
she stood there, watching his slender figure with sorrow-
ful eyes, and feeling herself so hopelessly alone. How
quickly he was recovering, he could get about un-
aided already. . . . Yes, she was glad of it . . . with
a sharp pain ever at her heart. He did not see her —
he would never see her. . . . Then she would go back,
with the quiet smile of the unwanted, to her work ; to
the operating-table, and the wards, to help and nurse
and comfort and be kind.

• ••••••

Zillner pondered for days, and his longing grew.
How would he meet her ? By accident it must be, of
course. At any rate it must seem so — she must not
think that he had sought her out. And then he could
see at the first glance how she took it. He would observe
dispassionately, and see what her glance said, and then
. . . happiness, or . . . but no, she could not be like
that . . . she ...

-Early one afternoon he could bear it no longer; he
must go out. He put on a new uniform and hobbled

292 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

out, his crutches tapping, first on the pavement of the
Httle suburban streets, and then along the promenade
under the trees of the Ring. People noticed him, and
made way for him to pass — a little too markedly, he
thought. Many looked at him in evident pity ; the
women especially with eyes full of tender sympathy.
' Poor, poor fellow ! ' they seemed to say. And it jarred
on him almost to anger. He walked on, looking straight
before him, and trying not to meet the glance of those
who passed.

The streets were full of life. There were many
children, holding their mother's or their nurse's hand.
And elderly men who seemed to be thinking : ' What
did I tell you ? Thank Heaven, I am well out of it
myself ! ' Youths shambling along with an important
air — ^aged seventeen, and, if not soldiers yet, they would
be very soon, and demanded respect in advance. Young
men were nowhere to be seen, and even the middle-
aged paterfamilias was but sparsely represented. But
it did not seem to make any difference after all. Here
and there a woman in mourning ; a black veil fluttering
through the crowd seemed the expression of a hopeless
sorrow that only asked to be left in peace.

But these were the exceptions, and life passed over
them unheeding ; some were delirious with the fever
heat of victory ; others had grown accustomed to the
war, and took things cheerfully in the old way. Vienna
is a careless beauty, and does not care for doleful faces.
If sacrifices were demanded — c'est la guerre. And no
reason to make oneself miserable for that. As long as
one could keep out of it oneself. The streets rang with
loud placards announcing concerts, theatres, copper
and brass collection days. There was always an element
of amusement even in these. The veriest pessimists and
croakers had changed their tone, as the tavern-keepers
could witness. They talked loudly of Petrograd as a
trump card, and of settling the Russians that way — it
could easily be done if only one went the right way to
work. They arranged it all most neatly, drinking much

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 298

wine — vintage 1914 was not so bad after all — in a spirit
of cheerful confidence, which lasted till the next reverse.
No, Vienna was not depressed. Those who were dying
out there for their country, and those who were in
training for the same in the crowded barracks could not
silence the orchestra that played so jubilantly under
the sun's direction : ' Victory ! ' The daily press supplied
the double bass : ' Evoe, victory ! ' and the General Staff
reports gave a leading solo : ' It should be observed . . .
on the one hand . . . while on the other hand . . .'
And so on.

Zillner hobbled along with the crowd, searching about
for a slender woman in a black dress. And wherever he
caught sight of a Red Cross cloak he thought, ' Perhaps
it is she I '

Portraits of stern-faced German generals appeared
in the photographers' windows : * Look at me, citizen ; I
am the ruler of the world ! ' And less conspicuously dis-
played were the softer-featured Austrian leaders with
their many decorations ; they seemed to be whispering —
' I 'm in it too, though— don't forget that ! '

He came to the Ballhausplatz, where the Foreign
Ministry has its office ; a couple of men with portfolios
under their arms were walking straight toward the
entrance gateway. From their inscrutable faces it was
plain that they were co-operating in the giant work which
enabled Austria to carry on a war on three separate
fronts. The portfolios contained, perhaps, the materials
for bringing about the establishment of a fourth ^ —
the unintelligent faces of the pair were sufficient evidence
that they were capable of that. Zillner looked scornfully
at these tennis players, these causeurs of Vienna society.
A pack of drones, he thought ; impotent drones. The
thing that had grown up out of all their documents had
sent the useful workers in thousands to their death.
In a colony of bees, the bodies of such futile meddlers
would long since have been thrown out to rot under the
hive. But in our world, they were suffered to go on,

' Rumania.

294 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

these cavaliers by the grace of ancestry and the tailor.
At the end, when the results of the slaughter were
reckoned up, they would be able to draw their fill of
renown. But the others, the poor and simple, who had
been shattered and torn to pieces, exploited by the great ;
the beasts of burden, whose desperate efforts had once
more succeeded in pulling the cart out from the ditch,
what would be their reward ? Words — ^words and
hoUow phrases. New ' truths ' would be coined, which
true men's hearts would instinctively reject; yet the
people would murmur them all the same, in an involun-
tary repetition, as with a rosary, and the priests would
give their blessing ; and then, on again, like drivers
of carts condemned to an endless monotony of dull
service, as tools for greater men's desire for power —
conceived, bom, duped, used up, and forgotten !

The war, thought Zillner, as he hobbled along on his
crutches through the sunlight, giving himself up to his
dreams — the war had revealed monstrous cankers and
rottennesses in so-called incontrovertible truths. It
.was an Augean stable. But the business of war was
merely to note down the symptoms, and, as those who
believed in it imagined, to cut away the unsound parts.
The work of carrymg away the ruins left over, and
building something new upon the site — that must be
left to future generations. Zillner wondered what
would come after it all. The lessons of the war were
largely preached to empty benches ; the many did not
heed. Had not the history of the world cried aloud
to them to let an aristocracy of intelligence replace that
of blood ? But had they listened ? War after war
they had fought with but little hope of success, thanks
to the imbecility of those leaders. Yet still the solidarity
among the high-bom contrived to keep the babbling
fools upon their feet. Would it be otherwise to-morrow ?
Was it not more probable that after a faint attempt
to change, all would revert to the old rigime ? The
lessons of history called for a general clearance, dis-
infection, and renewal — all that was done in reality

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 296

was to patch up the old by so-called ' reforms.' A
nation of priests and nobles, miserably lacking in
ordinarily clever heads, and poorer still in prospects for
the future. Cripples, thought Zillner, hobbling cripples
. . . like himself !

He reached the entrance to the Volksgarten. At
the Temple of Theseus a flock of children were shouting
and playing. Behind the shady chestnuts, the crowded
caf6 beckoned invitingly. He was tired and dispirited,
and made his way towards the entrance, seeking for a
vacant table. As he stood looking round, some one
called him by name, and a moment later Baroness Lisl
Krottenburg stood before him, shaking his hand with
unaffected pleasure. ' How lucky to meet you here —
Moritz will be glad.'

He murmured a few words of greeting, with a foolish
sense of shame at standing there on crutches face to face
with a woman who had known him in the days when
he was sound and whole. In her eyes, too, he could see
that accursed expression of pity that he had noted in so
many others. Swift as lightning she glanced at his
disfigurement, as if it had not been there, and yet
distinctly saying to herself — * A cripple — a cripple . . .
poor fellow ! '

Zillner bit his lips. ' I 've grown a bit lighter since
last we met,' he said, and pointed with a forced smile
to his leg.

They walked slowly through the crowd of curiously
sympathetic spectators to her table. Krottenburg was
there, his tall figure dressed now in mufti, and with a
light overcoat thrown over his shoulders.

Krottenburg greeted him without surprise, and
moved slightly to let him sit down. * Yes, we 're out
of it,' he said, in his drawling voice. ' We 're out of it
now — just as things are beginning to move on a bit.
Grand work they 've been doing lately. It 's hard to be
idling here now. Well, perhaps by the autumn . . .'
He coughed slightly.

Baroness Lisl's soft brown eyes turned anxiously

296 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

towards him, with an expression as of a frightened bird
guarding its nest. ' You mustn't talk so much, Moritz,
you know.' And with a desperately appealing glance
at Zillner, she asked : ' Don't you think he 's looking
well ? He really has improved wonderfully, you
know.'

' Yes, indeed,' said Zillner, with a glance at her hus-
band, whose haggard face was flushed with a burning
spot on either cheek. ' Wonderfully well ! ' And he
looked away, striving not to appear startled at the
terrible change.

The two men exchanged notes of their experiences.
Zillner spoke of his brave little men, and how he had
grown fond of them ; how the blind slaughter had
robbed him, first of all enthusiasm, then of his faith as a
soldier, until at last all his ideals had collapsed, leaving
nothing of the world for which he had lived till then.
He spoke of the courage and willing sacrifice among the
common men, and the greed of the leaders to exploit
them ; and, as is often the case with men whose ideas
are crowded into a restricted circle of powerful and
insistent thoughts, he drew upon his own experiences,
and spoke by examples.

Krottenburg looked on uncomprehendingly, aston-
ished at the hot flow of the other's words. His long and
stainless ancestry held a protecting hand over him, and
the words that had been the motto of his race for
centuries stood plainly graven on his forehead now :
' Ich dien.' His business it was to serve, not to ask
where or why or how. A Krottenburg was not accus-
tomed to question the cause for which he bled. He
lived, and died if need be, under the device ' Ich dien.'

But little Baroness Lisl listened greedily to Zillner's
words. The all-embracing homelike unity of humanity
which he looked forward to, and for which he pleaded
so passionately, was something her heart could under-
stand, now that her lover had come home to her a broken
man. The last remains of those qualities which had
distinguished the Krottenburg women by tradition had

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 267

faded away — no more humility, patience, and thought-
less acceptance of all things as the best. And when
Zillner had ended his condemnation of the existing state
of things, she turned to him with flushed cheeks. ' You
speak like a disciple of the Saviour,' she said earnestly.
' All that misery — it is dreadful ! We had to leave
Mahren, you know, long before we should. Italy — the
cowardly traitors — they are going to make it all last
longer still.' She strove to keep back her tears.

Zillner shrugged his shoulders. ' But, my dear
Baroness, surely . . . we call them traitors — but for
them, it is quite another matter. They look on it as a
sacred struggle in the cause of freedom. To us it seems
base, to them glorious.'

Lisl raised her eyebrows. ' But the treaty — they
have broken their word — isn't that base ? '

' Treaty ! They thought it was a good opportunity
to take advantage of the situation — and up to now they
have gained nothing by it. What is a treaty ? A scrap
of paper ! And as for traitors — treachery — ^we use the
word when an unscrupulous neighbour puts us in a
difficult position ; while the unscrupulous neighbours
themselves of course regard it as a proper observance
of legitimate interests at a convenient time.'

Baroness Lisl wrung her hands. ' But surely it is
revolting to any common sense of decency, the way
they have acted here ? '

' Common decency counts for nothing in the labyrinth
of majestic lies through which men are driven at such
a time as this,' said Zillner harshly. ' It is just an
individual conception, and the thing called truth is a
poor cripple, that cannot move save on the crutches
lent to it by power. It is helpless by itself.'

' Then you really think that might is the only right ?
You do not believe that right alone can win in the
end ? Just right alone, without any outward dress ? '

Zillner laughed — a short, bitter laugh. ' There is no
such thing in our respectable world as right with no
outward dress. It has to wear a cloak of some sort.

298 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

What is good and what is evil ? It depends on the point
of view. In the childhood^of the world perhaps there
may have been something absolute and unadulterated.
But now, we have grown older, we have progressed by
crooked stages, and loaded ourselves with all sorts of
culture and refinement and luxury, the state of simplicity
is ever so far away.' He was silent for a moment, and
sat staring up at the dark trees. Then, speaking in a
lower voice, his words dragging hopelessly, he went on :
' All of them call it a just war. All those who are now
busy crushing in each other's heads with lumps of lead
and splinters of iron. And all of them will declare
when it is over that they were not to blame. Red
books and blue books and yellow books — all shrieking
out that it was the other's fault !

' Right ! — ^think. Baroness, if Right could hover freely
over this swamp of blood. All those who flounder
about in it are constantly invoking it and uttering the
most sacred vows. They call to it from all sides with
flattering voices: "You are ours: We have a thousand
proofs that you must be on our side — on ours alone."
All shouting and threatening and whining the same story,
from every camp in the universal swamp of blood. They
have plundered every code of laws from Justinian to
Machiavelli, and they call up the poets to sound their
golden harps, and sing : " We are the judges of the earth.
Come over to us." While they on the other side do
exactly the same. And Right hovers indecisively
hither and thither — always the same arguments, the
same tune, the same cabalistic formula — ^which way is
it to turn ? Then a powerful hand grasps it ruth-
lessly by the wings. This way I The Italian Tyrtaeus,
Gabriele d'Annunzio ; how cleverly he can blend false
chords to a sensual hymn of war — like the unhealthy
scribbler that he is. Millions believe in him. Are they
all only fools or rogues ? No ; but their point of view
is such that they can feel an honest enthusiasm for their
own cause, while we are obliged by ours to be righteously
indignant at their meanness. And when all is said.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 299

maybe this divine Gabriele himself is for once inspired
by a pure flame — for what we here call treachery is
for him the sacred cause of his people. And it is exactly
the same with the Russians, English, French, Serbians,
Japanese. And we — ^we make our bow, and hold out
arguments just as convincing in the opposite direction,
inviting Right to be on our side.'

* But where is it ? It must be somewhere ? ' The
Baroness looked at Zillner with the air of a child
searching in vain for a favourite toy.

' It is simply wherever Might happens to be. Later
on, Clio puts on objective spectacles, composes her
wrinkled face to an expression of impartiality, and
declares what force and decisiveness and luck have
won to be the historical truth, without troubling as a
rule about lengthy investigations as to whether the
victor really had right on his side.'

Baroness Lisl shuddered. * When you talk like that it
is enough to make one lose all faith — in everything. . . .'

* Our faith, too, is crumbling,' said Zillner. ' But
it does not fall. The men in the swamp of blood grasp
their battered heads, and see confusedly that a strip of
land east or west has changed hands . . . and the end
of all the slaughter is a Te Deum, sung with intense
conviction by those who happened to escape, or were
wise enough to keep out of it all.'

' And they call it a time of great happenings,' she
murmured, and her lips trembled. ' The children read
about it in their schoolbooks and are taught to believe
in the greatness of it all. And we . . .' She looked
with tearful eyes at her husband.

Krottenburg had been sitting quietly, watching the
people about. He turned to his wife as she spoke :
' Don't go philosophising about things, Lisl. We can't
alter it, so it 's no use.' He coughed slightly, and
glanced away towards the stream of people coming and
going. There was a waxen pallor about his ears, and
thin furrows ran down behind them to the neck.

His wife sprang up, and, drawing a silk scarf from her

SOO CAPTAIN ZILLNER

jacket, laid it carefully round his throat. ' You
shouldn't talk so much, Moritz, you know. And it 's
getting cool. Hadn't we better be going ? '

Krottenburg rose to his feet with a certain effort.
He offered his hand to Zillner, with a strange, cold
glance, and bade him farewell in a formal tone.

Baroness Lisl smiled in some embarrassment. ' You
must come and see us often, won't you ? Come as soon
as you can. Only ring up first, and hear if we are at
home.'

Her voice had the same kindly heartiness as of old.

Zillner awoke as from a dream, and looked at the pair.
They stood there, ready to go. He rose to his feet, and
stammered out : ' I beg your pardon — it was — I ought
not perhaps . . .' And suddenly it struck him that he
must appear ridiculous. He lifted Lisl's gloved hand
to his lips and touched Krottenburg's extended fingers.
Then they went off, and he sat there alone watching the
retreating figures as they passed down between the rows
of tables ; the man thin and stooping, and his wife
walking close by his side as if to say : ' I will never leave
you — never again. I will watch over and help you
always, always.'

Zillner sat down again. Twilight was falling, with a
delicate play of colours, red and yellow and silver ; the
summer evening wearing its loveliest robes to greet its
end. The cafe was almost deserted ; an old waiter
came shambling up towards him holding out an evening
paper. ' There 's news this time, sir. Russians have
blown up Brest Litovsk, and we 're on the way to
Moscow after them. That 's the way ! ' Zillner was
looking away, watching the flow of gold down over the
new, stone-grey Kaiserburg. As if to force his atten-
tion, the man went on : ' My only son 's at the front.
He is in the artillery, at Dniestr. Well, it '11 soon be
over now — what do you say, sir ? '

' Yes, yes, it ought to be,' said Zillner. ' But aren't
you ever anxious about him ? '

* Well — I won't say — at times. Having only the

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 801

one . . . but I say to myself the Lord couldn't take
him away like that. Only the one, you know. . . .'

Zillner paid his reckoning, and the old man bowed
and shambled away.

It was still current, then, that ancient formula of the
miracle-workers ! Millions of simple folk took it and
lived on it in good faith. The Lord could not — it could
not be His will to take my only son — or my two, three
sons . . . my husband . . . my brother . . . each one
of them found comfort in it, just as the old waiter had
done. For a moment Zillner envied him his faith ;
envied him, and all the great world of church-goers,
women and children, whose unquestioning minds
dreamed wonderful fairy tales. Once upon a time there
was a God. He created me and held His hand over me,
and I pray to Him, and therefore He protects me. It can-
not be His will that evil should happen to me. . . . Yes,
he envied the masses. They went through life begging
and praying for the miracles of Gk)d's grace, praying
through all horrors, and growing only the more fervent
when their prayers were of no avail. Even as they
sank under the weight of the last affliction, they would
see His loving face : * Come unto me all ye that are weary
and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'

The shadows sank deeper over the trees and spread
out far over the gravel paths. The lamps were being
lit. Zillner sat puffing cigarette smoke out into the
evening air, and felt himself growing calmer. Out in
the garden there, the figure of a girl hovered before
his vision. Save yourself, brain-sick one ! Cease to
torture yourself with the thought of the massacres
where beasts of burden are driven to the slaughter.
Go your way, and let the masses go theirs. They will
not thank you for all your pains — ^their Saviour is not
yours. The normal state of the masses is a passive
receptivity. And the poorer the truths which they can
grasp, the simpler must they be. God is with us — there-
fore we must conquer. Conquer ! That pleases them.

802 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

The thought wipes away all the dullness, misery, and
torment of their life. We conquer ! The word is in all
their hearts. They shout together, and at last all are
convinced that it must be so. What can you do, fool,
against the suggestive force of words and phrases upon
the mass, which leads them, as ' victors,' to forget all
the wretchedness that has gone before ? Go your own
way in peace, and let them go theirs. Cease to torture
yourself in vain. . . .

After the fifth cigarette, Zillner had regained his
peace of mind, and his thoughts leaped lightly and
softly towards the girl who was like a mountain flower.
Erika . . . she was the goal of his longing ... a home
for his soul. He would love her and build palace
after palace for her . . . no, cottages, with gardens of
flowers. And no more loneliness ! No more living alone
with an unsatisfied desire, a vague will, an affection for
those who after all would never understand . . . because
the fabled God lived in them still, and was stronger than
all else, stronger than the antics of a foolish philan-
thropist. The cruelties and kindness of the ancient
miracle-worker held them now as they had done a
thousand years ago. One man who saw through the
cheact — ^how could he help them all ?

Darkness streamed through the great empty garden,
slipping aside where the .white light from the lamps of
the Ringstrasse fell in narrow ribbons through the
trees, yet strong enough to fill the treetops with grey,
and blur the outline of tables and chairs and gravel
paths.

Zillner took his crutches and made his way home.
He smiled as he went — a smile of longing.

CHAPTER XVII

' Now, ladies and gentlemen, as you are, if you please,'
cried the photographer.

It was a touching group that had assembled at the
entrance to the hospital garden. In front, seated on
pillows in the grass, were three crippled infantrymen
stretching the stumps of their legs towards the camera.
In the centre, a couple of officers with bandaged heads
were seated in armchairs. And behind them, standing,
heroes with the glow of victory in their eyes, and
coquettish wrappings about the forehead, the whole
framed in a half circle of nurses endeavouring to look
as sympathetic as possible.

' Oh, but Captain Zillner — he ought to — don't you
think?' cried a girl's voice, and several others joined in.

* Yes, of course, we must have him too. Go and fetch
him, some one.' The Sister who had attended Zillner
from the first ran down into the garden. The photo-
grapher took his hand from the cap of the lens, blinked
his eyes, and surveyed the grouping once more with a
critical glance. Then he lit a cigarette and waited.

Zillner was sitting on a bench, writing.

' Oh, would you mind ? ' began the Sister shyly.

* We are being photographed, you know, and the others
would like you to . . .'

He glanced up at her absently. ' I am not on
exhibition as a crippled hero, thanks. You must
excuse me.'

' But it 's for a charity, you know.'

' Of course — of course. And the poor men are handed
about to be stared at by any one and every one. Stick-
ing out their stumps of legs to show they are heroes.
And people will stare at them, and turn up their eyes

303

804 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

in admiration and pity — to-day. In a year's time
nobody will care — an old story. It 's very sad, no
doubt, they '11 say, but what can one do ? It was all
that nasty war. And so on. And the heroes will go
about grinding barrel organs or loafing superfluously
through life with nobody to care, and nobody will think
them worth photographing any longer.'

* But really they do,' said the Sister hesitatingly.
' Everybody buys them . . . and it can't hurt you
surely, for once. . . . And there are some perhaps who
would like to have a picture for remembrance — ^won't
you, when I ask you ? '

' You 've plenty of gallant heroes with bandaged
foreheads, what do you want with me ? And there are
a couple of infantrymen who '11 be only too glad to
represent the cripples' guild — isn't that enough ? To
tell the truth, I don't care to be photographed for the
sake of a disfigurement. I 've really nothing else to
offer.'

The Sister blushed. ' It isn't that, truly,' she said.
* Wouldn't you — just for remembrance ? . . . I should
be so glad ! ' She stood with bowed head, like a creature
coming to the sacrifice. ' Kill me, but drink my blood,'
she seemed to say. But Zillner could not or would not
understand.

' How can you be so childish ? ' he said cruelly.
' What use would it be to you ? '

' Nothing, nothing,' she murmured. ' Only . . .'
And she walked away.

Zillner called after her, ' Sister, don't be offended, I
didn't mean . . .'

But she hurried away, with soft, humble steps that
seemed begging pardon of the gravel they trod. Zillner
saw her go up to join the group, and say a few words
with a shrug of the shoulders, to all appearance calm
enough. He could not see her sobbing as she disappeared
afterwards inside the building, or tearing her hand-
kerchief with her teeth on her way to the operating-
room. When she entered, she was paler than usual.

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 305

with the impenetrable gentleness of resignation in her
homely face. Zillner saw nothing of that.

The photographer called out again : ' A moment,
please, ladies and gentlemen. You, sir — the sound leg
a trifle forward, if you wouldn't mind — thanks. I^ow
quite still all, if you please — just a moment.'

The carefully ordered group stiffened breathlessly.
The nurses posed their heads like the angels on cheap
Christmas cards, and gazed into nothing with dreamy
eyes. The coquettish heroes glared courageously into
the camera's mouth.

' Thank you, ladies "andTgentlemen. . . . And then
just one more — only take a moment. . . .'

Zillner had finished his letter. He read it through.
' Dear Fraulein Erika, — Chance does not seem interested
in our meeting again ; permit me therefore to lend it a
helping hand. I am here in Vienna once more ; have
been here two months now. As a cripple. With only
one leg. I should like to see you again. Would you
mind ? I have not forgotten last spring.'

He was not altogether pleased with it — it said too
much. And he had no right. . . . But his heart waived
all objections aside. He must see her — somehow or
other. Nothing else mattered. He hobbled off to the
letter-box, and dropped the letter in.

• ••••••

Three days later there came a card, in a neat sloping
hand : * Dear Captain Zillner, — I should very much
like to see you again ; it is long since I have heard from
you. Will you be at the corner of Parkstrasse, left of
the station entrance, on Thursday evening at six ? I
have the evening off then, and we could have a talk.
Band regards, yours. . . .' — *H'm. She might have
written " affectionately." Thursday — ^that was day after
to-morrow. " I should very much like to see you again."
There was a chance after all — a chance of coming back
to life.

Zillner hobbled round the garden in a confused state
of mind, divided between joy and anxiety and a childish

U

306 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

impatience. He was longing to know the truth. He
read the card again. And as if heaven had purposely
kept a pleasant surprise in store for him till that very
day, there came on Thursday morning a little parcel
and a large brown official envelope, with the diploma of
the military cross ' for courageous devotion to duty
under fire.' The parcel contained the red-and-white
enamelled decoration, with the watered ribbon. Zillner
flushed red with joy. It was a good omen. That very
afternoon ! . . . He fastened the glittering trinket to
his tunic, and smiled. A cross — in return for a leg.
It was a bad bargain. But if he could win her. . . .
The idea was ridiculous, impertinent. A cripple — even
a cripple with the military cross — what right had such
a one to think . . . He looked at himself in the glass,
a slender figure, and a pale, clean-shaven face. Not as
ill-looking as many others perhaps. And delight came
upon him in a rush of frothing waves, each wave-top
bearing the lovely elfin figure of Hope.

By four o'clock he could wait no longer, but started
out ; it was a relief of a sort to know himself on the way.
It was an hour's walk, but he took the car. Two ladies
rose to offer him their seat ; he thanked them in some
embarrassment, and declined, and after a moment's
hesitation they sat down again. And once more he
marked that accursed look of pity in their eyes. He
stood outside on the platform, and lit a cigarette. By
the time he had reached his destination, it was just
half -past four. He sat down at one of the tables in the
cafe opposite the park, and looked absently through
the papers, glancing continually over to the entrance,
and smoking cigarettes.

At half -past five she came. But she was not alone.
As she passed out under the arch a lieutenant of artillery
appeared behind her — a tall, well-built man with a
bandaged head. Zillner felt as if his heart had suddenly
stopped — ^then it went on again with a rapid, hammering
beat. Somebody with her. . . . Now they were talking
together. Smiling to each other. The artilleryman

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 807

talked rapidly and easily, and her beautiful cabn eyes
were fixed on his face. She was pleased to see him —
that was evident enough. Then suddenly she turned,
and looked up and down the street — Zillner drew back
into a corner of the window. She looked at her wristlet
watch, and said a few words to her companion ; he
saluted, struck his heels together, and smiled, but went
on talking — insistently, it seemed. Then she bowed
her head, and he took her hand. Zillner counted the
seconds while they stood thus : one — two — three — four

— five — six six seconds ! And then she bowed her

head again and turned to go. But once more their
hands met — this time only a brief touch — and she walked
off, her companion saluting and watching her as she
went. She walked slowly down towards the station,
and he disappeared back through the park gate.

The whole scene had reeled itself off before Zillner's
eyes as he sat in the curtained window of the caf6 ; it
was like a fragment of a picture play, hurried, nervous,
and blurred with movement. Should he go after all ?
What was the use ? But hope patted him on the
shoulder. The man might have been a relation, a
mere acquaintance, it might mean nothing ; it was
ridiculous to suspect every trifling circumstance of
warring against his happiness. And she would be
waiting for him. He paid his reckoning, and hobbled
off. She was standing with her back towards him as he
came up.

' Good evening, Fraulein Erika.'

She turned, with a start, and blushed. Then held
out her hand, and looked straight into his eyes. ' I 'm
so glad ! ' she said.

' It was awfully good of you to come,' said Zillner,
and stood stiffly and helplessly holding his crutches.

She began again, hesitatingly. ' I — I was so glad
to hear from you again.' They stood a moment in
silence.

* Things have changed a good deal since the spring,'
he ventured. ' Many things.'

808 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

* I ... it was. ... I 'm so glad you 're well again,'
she stammered. Her eyes noted the cross on his
tunic. ' And they 've given you the cross . . . con-
gratulations ! '

* Thanks,' said Zillner. ' Yes, that was as compensa-
tion for the loss of a leg.' He strove to speak carelessly,
but both found it difficult to go on, and there was
another pause.

She looked at the numbers of the cars as they came
jangling up, stopped, and passed on. * I must be going
back again directly,' she murmured.

Zillner pulled himself together and spoke frankly and
calmly. ' Fraulein Erika, I have not forgotten you — I
have thought of you every day. Do you care for me
as you did then ? '

She looked down and fumbled with her glove. * Yes
indeed, really, I do. Very much. I like to think . . .'

Then suddenly he burst out : ' But your friend. . . .
I was there before, you know when . . . you came out
from the park. Is he ... Is he the one you care for
now ? Tell me ! '

She looked up with bright eyes, and her face flushed.
' We — we are engaged I It 's nearly a month now. I
would have told you at once, only . . .' She stammered
and broke off.

Zillner felt a rushing in his ears j his fingers gripped
the handles of his crutches. * Then — then I beg your
pardon,' he stammered. He could feel that his cheeks
had paled. But she did not seem to notice his agitation.
* There it is l' she cried — ' My car — I must go. Good-
bye, Captain, I 'm so glad you 're better.' She looked
at him with a delicate shyness in her eyes.

He could not meet her glance, but stared past her
into the empty air. * Good-bye,' he said, and pressed
her hand.

She hurried to the car, and waved her hand as it
moved off, ' Auf Wiedersehen I '

He bowed his head stiffly, and gave a little hopeless
laugh. What was there left to him now ? Was this

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 809

all ? — ^was there no more ? He looked about him.
Where was he to go ? Where ?

He got into the car that passed, asked for a transfer,
and passed the station where he should have changed
without heeding. He made the circle of the Ringbahn
twice, and as the car drew up for the second time outside
the Volksgarten, the conductor touched him on the
shoulder. He stepped out, and went over to the open
space where the children played, and sat down on a
seat. The little ones were calling and laughing to each
other. He noted it all absently at first ; then he found
himself watching a group by the sand-heap. They
were playing at soldiers — Russians and Austrians. The
Russians were the defenders, and lay huddled up behind
the mound, a little girl was throwing handfuls of sand
at the attacking party, while the rest lay in cover,
firing with their wooden rifles. The Austrians charged,
and drove the Russians out of the position. * That was
your fault, you little fool,' cried a thick-set boy with a
paper crown. ' Can't even throw bombs properly.
You 're no good at all.' The girl began to cry. * I
threw as hard as I could. It wasn't my fault — ^look
here ! ' She held out her apron, full of sand. * Well,
we '11 let you try once more, and if you don't throw
properly, you '11 be packed off to the rear, and Maxi
Zehettner can be bomber instead.' The child dried
her tears, and slunk off obediently behind the mound.
The general posted his men once more ; the victorious
Austrians drew back behind some bushes, and after a
brief council of war returned to make a fresh attack,
dashing forward with loud cheers. The lady bomber
did her best, but a detachment was sent off to take her
in flank, and once more the sand -heap was captured.
This was too much for the Russian leader ; he rushed
up to the girl and struck at her. * There ! You little
fool ! Haven't I told you to keep an eye on the flanks
as well ? Off you go to the rear ! March I ' The girl
set up a howl.

Zillner rose from his seat and went towards them.

310 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

' Can't you play anything but soldiers ? ' he asked.
* It 's not a nice game really, you know.'

' Playing soldiers is the best fun of all,' answered the
leader, saluting. ' If only she wasn't such a muddle-
head with the bombs.' The girl had withdrawn to a
corner of the position, and sat there discomfited, with
her finger in her mouth.

' Anyhow, aren't you ashamed of yourself, to hit a
little girl like that ? '

' But it was all her fault. She 's no good at any-
thing. We made her a machine-gun before, and it
was just the same.'

' But war 's a nasty business, lad. You get killed,
very likely, or have your legs shot off.'

' Then you 're a hero,' cried the paper-crowned
enthusiast. * I 'm going to be a soldier when I grow
up, and go to the war. But we won't have her — she 'd
only spoil it all.'

' Oh, please,' came a piteous murmur from the re-
jected one. ' Don't leave me behind. I promise to do
it right if you will.'

Zillner hobbled away. War ! It was like a violent
fever. Even the children were not safe from its grasp.
The grown-ups had been shouting and cheering for
more than a year ; the skies were hung with laurel — -
what wonder, then, that the fever spread ? And those
who sat at home alone with their sorrow and tears,
in want and misery and wretchedness — all that they
suffered was carefully hidden away under phrase and
formula. It was God's will ! For the sake of their
country. Heroes and undying fame . . . giving their
all. . . . But for what ? Peasants who had never
seen one another before were called upon to shoot and
slay their fellows ; labourers who had never so much
as struck a brother-workman in a quarrel were sent out
to take the life of men as guiltless as themselves.
Factories worked day and night turning out wonderful
contrivances to fhng steel missiles and deathly gas
abroad . , . for the sake of theu" country ! — the country

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 311

that called to each for the same sacrifice. And when the
horror was past, and the patient beasts were driven
homeward once more, they were paid with the same old
phrases — their country's thanks ! Heroes who had
borne a part in the struggle for the right ; in the cause
of culture and civilisation. And then — they could go
back to their work, and make preparations for the next
occasion, when they would again be called upon to let
themselves be slaughtered for the same idea. Thus
each country called to its own ; such were the cheap
and senselessly false persuasions with which victor and
vanquished hypnotised their masses. The victims
themselves hardly knew what it all meant ; dazed by
the incense of words, they saw all things as in a mist,
behind which reigned some mystic, uncomprehended
fetish. * We must be masters of the world,' for in-
stance, or ' Prussian militarism must be annihilated — ^the
freedom of the world maintained.' Or again : ' Your
brothers — here or there — are oppressed ; it is your duty
to sacrifice yourselves in their cause.' And the poor
beasts chew upon it for a while, and come to the con-
clusion that it must be right, though they don't quite
understand. . . . Even the children. . . . Yes, it was
there one should begin. First the children should be
taught to understand the monstrous, criminal insanity
of the thing called War.

So Zillner thought as he made his way along, scarcely
knowing whither. He was thrown off his balance
entirely, and could hardly realise what had happened
to him. Back to the hospital he could not go — not yet.
He turned down a quiet street in the old quarter of the
town — there was a wineshop there where he had often
seen wonderful visions in the polished glasses filled with
gold. He would go there again.

The place was almost deserted, save for a couple of
regular customers at their own particular table in one
comer — sturdy citizens, manfully deciding the over-
throw of Russia under the influence of their wine.
They nodded in salute as he entered. He ordered a

312 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

bottle of Muscatel, that grand strong wine that can
make one forget all troubles. He drank off the first
glass at a draught ; there lay as it were a reflection of
the afternoon in the bottom. He smoked cigarettes,
and in the blue clouds he seemed to see figures acting
the scene that had passed. After all — ^was it worth
troubling about ? Another glass of the golden comfort
— surely there was nothing to be so miserable for.

A pretty girl — ^who happens to be engaged. Most
pretty girls get engaged sooner or later. And as for
what had passed in the spring — ^what was it after all ?
Something he had imagined, a dream without words.
How could a man build up hopes upon such a foundation?
He had been a fool, had gone on telling himself all sorts
of fanciful things about her — and meanwhile, she had
found some one else. Some one who was not a cripple.

He emptied the third glass.

Enfin — a girl ! Sort of ballast for life, if you marry
her. He himself was one of the lonely ones, who would
nob be able to share their kingdom with another. No,
he was alone, and must remain so. After all, he was
free — free ! And Zillner fell to contemplating the
future with a great complacency.

There was the hospital — yes. To-morrow he would
take a flat somewhere outside the town, where he could
look out over the green freshness of the Wienerwald.
And there he could — ^what ? Look at the others who were
sound and whole, while he himself was left to hobble
about day after day monotonously, telling respectable
citizens the tale of how he lost his leg, until they all
knew the story by heart. And at last he would be a
withered and irritable invalid, a decrepit super in a
play that no one cared to remember. And always
alone . . . alone. . . . Once more the feeling of dread
seized him, the inexplicable terror of something
threatening, which had come upon him that day when
Krottenburg had taken leave of him with such marked
coolness. He glanced over at the two men in the
comer. They were no doubt happy enough — able to

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 313

make themselves comfortable after their own fashion,
and take life easily. While he — a dreamer, without a
place in the world. A super — one of those whose part
it was to fall and be dragged off the stage. . . . Get up
again ? What for ? What good would it do him ? — or
any one else ?

The fourth glass set him dreaming again. Out by
the vineyards ran a broad river. One might go down
to the water and glide in, and be borne away, to sink
down beneath kindly waves. To rest . . . with a
weight of water over to keep one safely down. He
would not be the first. And better that than to stand
by helplessly here while others danced. It was no part
for him to play. And the simple folk, the common men
whom he had cared for, they would not thank him for
standing by with a bitter smile while they were
hopping and capering at their little festivals. No,
better to step aside, out of it all. There was a river
— it would carry him away . . . that was the best.
And firmly, confidently, without regret, he emptied
the fifth glass.

But the mischievous demon on guard that day was
pleased at that moment to open the door, and usher
in a picture of life with a triumphant smile on the lips.

Hans Heinz Sarapatka chanced to be passing that
way, and his imposing figure appeared in the low door-
way to the little room, where a stern resolution had just
been taken, by one guest sitting alone, while the respect-
able citizens in the comer were hiccuping furiously and
thundering with patriotic fists : ' Down with the
Muscovite dogs ! — make an end of them, and let the
cultured peoples . . .'

Yes, Hans Heinz had appeared at the proper moment.
His elegant figure was dressed in a new and splendid
service uniform ; he stood for a moment, first of all,
in a picture d. la Frederick the Great : ' Bonjour,
monsieur.^ Then he caught sight of Zillner, and, with
an expression of hearty sympathy on his Roman
features, advanced towards him. ' A fortunate meeting

314 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

— my dear fellow. I am delighted ! And the cross
too ! Sincere congratulations, indeed ! May I sit
down ? *

Zillner was in high spirits all at once. ' How are you,
my dear fellow ? ' he said cordially. ' Well rid of the
contusion, I hope, and the neurasthenia, and all that ?
You 're looking so fit, one might think you were going to
take the field again ? '

Sarapatka glanced suspiciously at him ; there was
something in Zillner's tone that he could not quite
make out. Was he drunk by any chance ? * Yes,' he
said aloud. ' To the Italian front. Songs of victory,
you know. Proper thing at the proper time. No more
dull office work drafting proclamations.' He waved
one arm majestically. * Isn't it grand ? The front
steadfast as a steel wall on every side. In the north,
a victorious advance such as the world has never seen ;
in the south, a defence simply classic. Stoical, impene-
trable as the granite rocks upon which the brave
defenders stand.'

' Lie, rather,' corrected Zillner with a humorous
glance. ' And so you 're going to sing hallelujahs to it
all ? Sort of peacemaker for the professional scribblers
now cheering as the wind blows ? That 's right. The
proper thing at the proper time. I remember a few
months back when it was rather the proper thing to die
— and you crept away to the rear and left others to do
the dying. They 're dead now. Can't sing hymns of
victory — so you do. Excellent. Prosit ! '

Sarapatka found the other's jesting tone in rather
bad taste ; he did not know quite how to take it. But
as a man of the world he preserved his self-control, and
answered easily : ' I 'm afraid I don't quite follow you,
my dear fellow. It would be ridiculous to protest
against the general trend of the time ; the common
glorious awakening of a spirit of unity. The public
must have its due. It is not to be satisfied with deeds
alone, but craves the living word. It would be futile to
try and swim against the stream,'

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 816

* / swim against the stream. And, you will see, the
stream will turn and follow me.'

The poet was no longer in doubt — Zillner was drunk.
The air of wisdom with which he spoke was enough.
But it would not do to notice it. And he went on easily
as before : ' It doesn't do to act on that as a rule.
People who do are apt to be crucified, or burned at the
stake.'

' Yes — and they submit willingly, for their words
have power to open graves, and strew the earth with
flowers, and shed a light over all the world.'

Hans Heinz knew that it is wiser not to contradict
the drunk and the mad. So he nodded assent. ' A
beautiful thought, and prettily expressed. But, believe
me, you mistake the spirit of the masses altogether if
you take it pessimistically. Now is the time to sow the
seed of great and inspiring thoughts among them. If
we had been defeated . . .'

' Then you would have written elegies or penitential
hymns, I suppose ? '

' And why not ? One must take the tone and spirit
of the day, and work from that. You are behind the
times, with your dismal reflections — we who know
better are far ahead and beyond — up in the clouds.'
He threw back his head, and drew himself up with
dignity. ' The mighty spirit of these days of victory is
upon us all, even the least of us is caught up by it and
must follow ! '

' They will fall to earth again before long, helpless as
flies in winter. And they will be sobered then, after
their flight ; they will see that the war is not merely a
thrilling picture play as they at first imagined. " Here
you are, ladies and gentlemen. The World War :
monster film with the greatest number of actors ever
known. Real powder and shot. The public itself
taking part. For a short time only — come in and see
it now." No, they will shake their heads and realise
that they have lied to themselves ; when the best of
them have been slaughtered like beasts, after living

316 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

like beasts in mud, filth, and vermin — though those
who appoint the impresarios for popular entertainments
of that kind never notice it. They have been trampled
down there at the front, under a hail of lead, and in
hospitals, and as prisoners in Siberia. Typhus, cholera,
dysentery . . . who is to weigh their sighs, who is to
count the tears they shed in their helplessness ? Who
will dare now to console us with the empty phrase :
** The country needed sacrifice " ? A roar of scornful
laughter would ring through the world in echo, and a
voice more terrible than any ever heard will give the
answer, a voice rising up from the choir of the mourners,
from all the misery of the world, filling the air with its
vibrations. The country did not need it ! What the
country needed was work — the work of hand and brain.
The development of its toiling millions into human
beings, using the time they have to live to good purpose,
and then passing out to nothingness, having their reward
in the hearts of children that remember them. That is
the country's need — and it is not to be won by years
spent in shooting our fellow-men.'

* My dear Sir Prophet and Soothsayer, you are in error,'
put in Hans Heinz with gentle remonstrance, as if talking
to an invalid. * Peace must be bought in the first place ;
from the earliest times it has been the nature of man to
fight and plunder. Woe to the land that tries to live
in peace without making itself secure by battle.'

' It is an artificial patriotism that preaches that
text,' said Zillner quietly, looking steadily before him.
' And none of mine. There has never been a labourer
or a peasant, an artist or a scientist, who wished for
war. They are only too glad to live in peace, side by
side, one sowing, another hammering, another teaching.
And the few in whose heads a Gk)d sits dreaming — the
very few in which at God sits and thinks — they love
humanity"^ too well to wish that it should have to
purchase the freedom to work with bullets and powder.
No ! Among these millions, the only struggle is that
which has always been, between the skilful and the

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 817

unskilful worker ; the ineradicable and healthy struggle
for the right of ability to precedence.'

* All that 's just social paradoxes,' said Hans Heinz,
shaking his head with a thoughtful expression. * They
may be some use in some distant future, but the pro-
blems of our present day must be solved with blood.
There is no help for it — blood is the only thing that can
prevent the earth on which we work from drying up
into barren sand.'

' No, no,' insisted Zillner earnestly. ' There again
you are talking artificial patriotism. The phrase is one
of those coined by the few who have duped the many.'

' What few ? ' The poet looked with a certain half-
unwUling interest at this extraordinary eccentric, whose
pale face was now flushed with sudden heat.

' Let me tell you. First of all, there are those who
look upon war as an exciting game for high stakes,
people whose fortunate lot it is to look on from a
distance, away from death and the peril of death. They
hope that the war will puff their mediocrity up to im-
mortal fame. With these rank the higher leaders and
their assistants, those who drive on the masses ; they
too look forward to monuments commemorating their
fame as conquerors of their country's enemies. And
who are their enemies ? Russian peasants — or Austrian,
Serbian, Italian, English, Turkish — have they any con-
ception of being enemies ? Or the workers from the
factories in the towns — do they long to crush in the
skulls of fellow workers living thousands of miles away,
men whom they have never seen ? No — a thousand
times no 1 It is the leaders behind who shout and roar
out phrases about the country's need and eternal fame
— and the peasants and workers who are driven on to
slay their fellows.'

Hans Heinz took a cigarette from his gold case, lit
it, and blew clouds of smoke towards the ceiling. ' You
touch on problems which every thoughtful man must
consider for himself at some time or another. But it is
out of our power to solve them.'

818 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

' But you creative spirits are just the very ones who
should whet these thoughts to a keener point, that they
can penetrate into the minds of the masses. What are
you here for, if not to serve humanity and the humane
in higher spheres ? '

The poet reached out one hand and flicked the ash
from his cigarette. It was an elegant hand, with a
gold bracelet on the wrist. ' We are here to live in
harmony with the spirit of the time. From our higher
sphere, we look down upon it and shape it,' he said
with dignity.

' Excellent. As Goethe used to do. Or, to use a
more modern illustration, like the profiteers of the
industrial, commercial, and financial aristocracy, who
are also interested in the maintenance of an artificial
patriotism. They clap their hands enthusiastically at
the slaughter, knowing well that the bloodshed will serve
their ends. They support the war, swear by it, and
only condemn its regrettable consequences when it
happens that their competitor on the other side bags
most of the profit. We want a new world, my friend.'

Hans Heinz shrugged his shoulders, and leaned back
in his chair.

' It is all indeterminate at present,' went on Zillner.
*Once the egoism of the few has been crushed by a
concentrated will to resist on the part of the many,
then no one will listen to them any more — not even to
those inexterminable vermin, the priests. The priests
are partners in the whole thing — always ready to bolster
up horrors and crimes as the will of God, and preaching
at every opportunity that war is a divine institution.
In case of need, they even talk of a holy war, and de-
clare that the world will never be rid of it. Dominus
vobiscum ! *

' Et cum spiritu tuo,^ added Hans Heinz. ' But it is
only fair to admit that when the bells are chiming for
peace, they are equally able to find divine authority for
their requiescant in pace."

' Cunning prompters to the stage of a lying theatre ;

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 819

wily advocates for those who take care to keep out of
the shadow of death I They bless the war I And the
cultivators of artificial patriotism — they prepare it.
Save for them, there would be no war. The fable of an
inherent instinct in men to slay their fellows is an
accursed lie ! ' Zillner had spoken the last words in
a voice trembling with anger, and sat now biting
his lips.

Sarapatka made no answer. Evidently, the man was
ill, or at any rate nervous, and his attitude was, to say
the least, foolish. He had no idea of taking advantage
of a situation. After all, a poor cripple, what could he
do anyway ? Hans Heinz looked at his watch. The
good citizens in the corner had thrust their chairs back
and were preparing to leave ; the waiter, who had been
leaning drowsily against the stove, came forward and
hovered about in readiness. The bibulous patriots
settled their bill, and walked out with unsteady dignity,
with a gesture of farewell to Zillner and his companion
as they passed. '' Ja, Beyerl,' one of them was saying.
* A great time. Just a year ago now, I was at Crado,
for a holiday, bathing in the sea every day with ladies
and gentlemen of both sexes, and now they 're fighting
and killing each other all about. A great time — ay, a
terrible time I '

Hans Heinz rose to take his leave. ' It 's getting
late. I 'm going off to-morrow, so I shall hardly . . .'
' I understand. Sending out winged words. I hope
the Italians will appreciate your style. Good-bye.'

' Now you 're sarcastic, I suppose,' said the poet in
good-humoured condescension. ' You must try and
pull yourself together, my dear fellow. Get out more
into the air, and it will freshen you up. So long ! '
And he strode off with light, easy steps, consciously a
victor in life's race.

Zillner sat on, staring into the haze of smoke that
formed misty halos round the little electric lamps on
the walls. The waiter was leaning against the stove,
with a serviette over his arm, apparently dozing. And

820 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

once more he felt the same horror of loneliness creeping
upon him. Alone . . . alone. . . .'

Yes, men could pass him by, like that cunning boaster
who had just gone. All of them. Pushing by, thrusting
their way on, while he was left to sit in a corner and
clench his fists at them, murmuring endlessly a refrain
of how he had once been as strong and sound as they.
Once — and now ? And what had brought him to it ?
He was as innocent as they, yet he was cast aside, a
cripple. They would smile in careless pity, and say
nothing. Would pass on and leave him behind, to
hobble as he might in search of life, a lonely man, with
no place in the world. Ay, and in time an eccentric, a
poor cripple, weak in the head. Grey -haired at last, and
a jest for children : * Hi, loony, tell us about the war —
tell us a story, softy.' . . . Yes, that would be his part ;
a witless man, called on to make sport for thoughtless
urchins in the street. No — he would not live to be
jeered at by children. Though, after all, the children . . .
children were the one thing he cared most for now in all
the world. But for that very reason he could not bear
it. No ; there was a river. . . .

Zillner drove back to the hospital in a cab with
wonderful soft springs. His trouble was gone.

CHAPTER XVIII

The whole country was decked with broideries of red
and green and gold ; they hung from the trees, flowed
out over the vineyards, and flamed in the avenues.
Millions of leaves still breathed, but they were red as
in the flush of fever, or stared out yellowly, and had
begun to bid farewell to the world. Only the strongest
and hardiest clung fast to their branches. The frost
was still far oft ; they would not pale until it came. And
then there were the pines ; dark green and untroubled
amid the resignation of the early fading trees that
knew their yearly death was near. And above the soft
rain of leaves from the summer-wearied, the hectic
flush of the sick, and the calm of the evergreen, rose the
golden blue of the sky. Fine white gossamer threads
played in the air, fastened themselves to the vines on
the heights of Kahlenberg, floated hesitatingly over the
forests, or were caught up by the telegraph wires or the
branches of creepers on the roofs of houses. The river,
too, was sparkling in the autumn sunlight. It glided
lazily out from between the hills, with silvery-white
streaks of light dancing on its faintly rippled surface.
Nature was keeping holiday — one of these festal days
when all the delight of life seems poured out over the
earth in brightness and warmth and a quiet, drowsy
calm.

Zillner rejoiced at it all. God was kind, to let him
feel thus how good it was to be alive ! It would have
been sad to take leave of life in rain and storm, but now
— it was pleasant and good.

The road passed close beside the river ; some beeches
leaned out over the bank. And in the water itself, the
willows crept out right to the white stones of the em-

X

822 CAFIAIN ZILLNER

bankment. He looked out over the river. It came
gliding out in a mighty curve from the west, went
gurgling past, and disappeared in a dull silver-grey mist
far to the east. A little black steamer was making its
way down the channel under a trail of smoke, hauling a
chain of heavy barges after it.

Fodder for the beasts to be slaughtered in Serbia,
thought Zillner — meal to fill their bellies before the
next attempt. Then over the river again, dashing on
like a pack of wolves, into a meUe of tearing and gnash-
ing and flaying. Urged forward out of the dark and
dullness and narrowness of view by the cry : * KjU the
others, for they are your enemies.' Thus they would
dash screaming across the Danube, to tear at the throats
of men. In the early Middle Ages, they had marched
towards the east, under the bloody fetish of the Cross.
The same sun had looked down on the armies of madmen
assembled in the holy name of the Saviour. The wave
of peoples surged back again, with the Crescent at its
head ; in the name of Him whom they did not understand
came the same mad cry from the east. The Danube had
seen it all. Had seen the fury of the Swede, and the
rapacity of the great Corsican. All, all for the sake of
some catchword ! And now — now, thought Zillner,
it is the madness of nationality that is raging over a
bleeding world. Growing up over the culture of nations,
shutting them out one from another, building walls and
ramparts of misunderstanding and suspicion between
them. It was the new religion of misguided humanity,
and for its sake the angel of murder had harried the
earth for over a year. That one idea which severed
people from people, and tore Europe asunder, was it to
be the last thought in the minds of the people of earth ?
Zillner stared out over the water. Would there come
a day, beyond the laurels and the monuments and
banners, and the ringing speeches, when a new Saviour
should lead His little ones forth, from the dark cellars
where they cowered, into a home fit for human souls ?
Would there come a day when pitiless scornful laughter

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 828

would make an end of the lying phrases that called
the murdering of men a necessary sacrifice ? He
found no answer. The stream glided by, and its
sluggish waters seemed only to murmur: * Vanity — all
is vanity I '

He clambered up on to the embankment and smiled
at himself — cripple and clairvoyant — seeing all things
darkly. Something in him whispered of another way
the world might take : a generation of robust and
self-taught individuals, unaffected by the lying incon-
sistencies of so-called intellectuals ; liberated from the
paralysing faith in the validity of black and white
assertions — free from the weakness of the leading
classes with their fractional thoughts, their obsequious
words, and their carefully composed enthusiasm ; im-
mune from the half-hearted ill-will of the lazy and
weary ones in drawing-rooms and departments. Yes
— ^a generation of whole -minded, earnest men, who
should search for the truth, like bloodhounds, and
perchance find it. But would they not then be too
harsh, too intolerant and unsympathetic ? — part pro-
selytising zealots, part tyrants ? The men of mature
mind would turn from them if so ; their words would
ring in the empty air, or find echo only in the mouths of
the foolish. It was idle, idle, idle to think of it all ! All
things were in a flowing mass, like the quiet river itself.
The lightest stuff, however worthless, floated on the
surface, all that was weighty sank beneath the waves.
The human mind could not grasp the dream of a God
fashioned in its own image I . . . And all the good things
that sprang from the sun, all the sacred warmth in the
eyes of children and dreamers, could not drive away
their dark inheritance. The shadow of freedom creeps
after men from the dark clefts of the past ; in vain the
best of them seek safety, making towards the sun ; the
rest are captured by the shadow once more. And they
grope about in its darkness, endlessly, endlessly. . . .
Peace ! One day, sooner or later, a sunbeam would
steal down to them in the dark. They would rise up

824 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

from their maze of blood and smoke and cheering, and
look on one another in astonishment. What had it been
like, that tin: e ? Rub their eyes and wonder ! Had
there ever really been any such time at all ? The priests
would swing their censers : ' Great God, we praise Thee ! '
The bells chiming, men of letters writing hymns, and
here and there monuments appearing. But already
the longing to forget it all is growing up among the
masses. Life — life, is the cry. The dead find words ;
the all too living coin them. ... A madhouse, thought
Zillner, the world was a madhouse. They would rejoice
at a state which they had taken before for granted, now
that it had returned. They would shout and fall on
one another's necks for joy that they were no longer to
tear at one another's throats. There would be waving
of flags, and the common folk would follow the phrase
of the day, until a new desire of plunder, a new catch-
word, herded them once more together for a new
slaughtering. And call it holy !

What \»^as there for him to do in this world of the
blind, thought Zillner. How could he bear to live on,
when his heart was rent by the lying chorus to which
all danced — some stupidly heedless, some with a hypo-
critical mask of faith, and some grumbling like unwilling
beasts.

To sink down happily into the nothing whence we
came, and whither we must return — that was the best
way for such men as he in such an age — ^an age the world
called ' great.'

He threw away his crutches, and slid down the bank
towards the water. The river sent up a murmur
of kindly greeting. The sun smiled gently down
upon him, and the willows seemed whispering : ' Home,
home ! '

He drew himself forward over the sharp stones
toward the water, and braced his arms for the last
thrust.

There was a sound of children's voices. It came
from the beeches, a wave of prattle and laughter and

CAPTAIN ZILLNER 325

delighted cries, the sweetly simple utterings of the only
beings that are truly glad.

Zillner listened. The young voices danced on the
air behind him, on the farther side of the green wall.
Some seemed to be leaping joyfully up into the air,
others tumbling about like puppies on the grass, or
hovering hke the song of larks high in the blue. They
were singing.

Zillner stared into the wall of green, and trembled.
Children ! The one thing he loved best in all the world.
He must see them — once more he must see. . . .

And he crept up the slope to where he had dropped
his crutches. Shyly, trembling with the yearning of
his heart, he hobbled towards the green curtain whence
the voices came. But when he reached the road, under
the shade of the trees, the sound had gone. Far away
a laugh and a gay calling faded away into the silence of
the beeches.

He stood bending forward to listen. Then suddenly
there was the sound of little feet tripping through the
wood, and a child crying. A moment later a little girl
stood before him.

* Where have they gone ? ' she asked, looking up with
a pitiful grimace. ' I 've lost the others ; please, can
you tell me where they are ? ' The child's clothes were
torn and plastered with dirt. She looked up tearfully,
with guilty dread, at. the big man.

' Where did you lose them, little one ? '

' We — we were picking berries, and I fell down in a
hole, and then they were gone.'

' Come with me, then,' said Zillner, taking the child's
hand ; ' we '11 go along together and find them. Never
fear.'

The child stopped whimpering. Then, looking up,
she asked, ' But why have you only got one leg ?
We shall never catch up with them now ? Can you
run?'

* Run — I '11 fly — you see ! But you must fly on, and
I '11 call out and tell you the way.'

326 CAPTAIN ZILLNER

So, following a little girl with torn and draggled
clothes, Zillner hobbled along in search of the children,
the little saviours of the world.

And the golden trees seemed waving towards him
in greeting.

THE END

Printed in GrMt Briuin by T. and A. Constablb, Printers to His Majesty
at the Edinburgh University Press

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