people would a traitor be so
abhorrent. Do you want the distinction of being a traitor--one lone
traitor in your loyal province?"

Hugo was visibly affected. The twisted corner of his mouth quivered.

"I had thought of that, too, sir," he said.

"Suppose your father and mother knew that your comrades had labelled you
a coward before the whole army; that they had thought you worthy only of
kicks and to be left to die by the roadside. Suppose that your father
and mother knew that the story of Hugo Mallin, coward and traitor, who
threw down his rifle under fire is being told throughout the land--as I
shall have it told--until your name is a symbol for cowardice and
treason. How would your father and mother feel?"

There was an unsteady movement of Hugo's body on his crutches. He
swallowed hard, moistening dry lips; and the mobility of feature that
could change the mask into the illumination of varied emotions spoke
horror and asked for pity.

"I--I--as a matter of mercy, when I have admitted the charge, I ask you
not to bear on that, sir!" he stammered. Then the crutches creaked with
a stronger grip of his hands and a stiffening of his body as he mastered
his feelings. The mask recovered its own, even to the drawing down of
the corner of the mouth. "I have reasoned that all out, sir," he went
on. "It was the thing which kept me from throwing down my rifle before
we made our first charge. I have written a letter to my father and
mother."

Marta had been so engrossed in the landscape that she seemed not to have
been listening. It was her voice, come out of the distance, that asked,
without any inflection except that of tense curiosity:

"May we see the letter?"

As she turned her eyes looked directly into Hugo's, their gaze locked,
as it were: hers that of a simple request, his that of puzzled,
unsatisfied scrutiny.

"May we?" she repeated to Westerling, looking now frankly at him,
"though I don't know as it is in keeping with the situation or with your
wishes to grant the whim of a woman. But you see," she added smiling,
"that is what comes of having a woman present."

If she had any double meaning Westerling could not find it in her eyes.

"I am willing," said Hugo. "Indeed, I shall be very glad to have my side
heard."

"Yes, let us see the letter," assented Westerling; for he, too, was
curious.

When Hugo had given it to Westerling and he saw that it was not very
long, he began reading aloud:

"'I've k