xt fraction
the prisms were seen to be growing and the stretch of the plane wings
broadening.

"They are racing--ours against theirs!" exclaimed Mrs. Galland. "Look,
look!"

Still the gardener bent to his work, unconcerned.

"I forgot! I always forget that you are deaf!" she murmured.

She touched his shoulder. The effect was magical on the stoop-shouldered
figure, which rose with the spring of muscles that are elastic and
joints that are limber. His hat was removed with prompt and rather
graceful deference, revealing eyebrows that were still dark in contrast
to the white hair. For only an instant did he remain erect, but long
enough to suggest how supple and well-formed he must have been in youth.
Then he made a grimace and dropped his hand demonstratively over his
knee.

"Pardon, Mrs. Galland, I have old bones. They always remind me if I try
to play any youthful tricks on them. Pardon! I did not see that you were
here. I," he said, in the monotonous voice of the deaf, which, however,
had a certain attractive wistfulness--"I--" and from the same throat as
he saw the object of her gaze came a vibration of passionate interest.
"Yes, neck and neck! Coming right for the baron's tower, neck and neck!"
he cried, in the zest of a contest understood and enjoyed.

His hand rose in a vigorous, pulsating gesture; his eyes were snapping;
his lips parted in an ecstasy that made him seem twenty years younger;
his shoulders broadened and his chest expanded with the indrawing of a
deep breath. This let go, the stoop returned in a sudden reaction, the
briefly kindled flame died out of his eyes, his lips took on the droop
of age, and he thrust his hat back on his head, pulling the brim low
over his brow.

"Wonderful, but terrible--terrible!" said Mrs. Galland. "Another horror
is added to war, as if there were not already enough. Oh, I know what
war is! I've seen this garden all spattered with blood and dead bodies
in a row here at our feet, and heard the groans and the cheers--the
groans of the wounded here in the garden and the cheers of the men who
had taken the castle hill!"

Feller, with the lids of shaded eyes half closed, watched the oncoming
squadrons in a staring mesmerism. His only movement was a tattoo of the
fingers on his trousers' legs.

"War!" he exclaimed with motionless lips. "War!" he repeated softly,
coaxingly. One would easily have mistaken the thought of war as
something delightful to him if he had not ap