the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第58部分
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not sought and prepared this conflict； by its arrogance preventing any settlement？〃
The Socialist denied this roundly。 His deputies were supporting the war and； therefore； must have good reason。 Everything that he said showed an absolute submission to disciplinethe eternal German discipline； blind and obedient； which was dominating even the most advanced parties。 In vain the Frenchman repeated arguments and facts which everybody had read from the beginning of the war。 His words simply slid over the calloused brains of this revolutionist； accustomed to delegating all his reasoning functions to others。
〃Who can tell？〃 he finally said。 〃Perhaps we have made a mistake。 But just at this moment all is confused； the premises which would enable us to draw exact conclusions are lacking。 When the conflict ends； we shall know the truly guilty parties； and if they are ours we shall throw the responsibility upon them。〃
Desnoyers could hardly keep from laughing at his simplicity。 To wait till the end of the war to know who was to blame！ 。 。 。 And if the Empire should come out conqueror； what responsibility could the Socialists exact in the full pride of victory； they who always confined themselves to electoral battles； without the slightest attempt at rebellion？
〃Whatever the cause may be；〃 concluded the Socialist； 〃this war is very sad。 How many dead！ 。 。 。 I was at Charleroi。 One has to see modern warfare close by。 。 。 。 We shall conquer； we are going to enter Paris； so they say； but many of our men must fall before obtaining the final victory。〃
And as though wishing to put these visions of death out of his mind； he resumed his diversion of watching the swans； offering them bits of bread so as to make them swing around in their slow and majestic course。
The Keeper and his family were continually crossing and recrossing the bridge。 Seeing their master on such friendly terms with the invaders； they had lost some of the fear which had kept them shut up in their cottage。 To the woman it seemed but natural that Don Marcelo's authority should be recognized by these people； the master is always the master。 And as though she had received a part of this authority； she was entering the castle fearlessly； followed by her daughter； in order to put in order her master's sleeping room。 They had decided to pass the night in rooms near his； that he might not feel so lonely among the Germans。
The two women were carrying bedding and mattresses from the lodge to the top floor。 The Keeper was occupied in heating a second bath for His Excellency while his wife was bemoaning with gestures of despair the sacking of the castle。 How many exquisite things had disappeared！ 。 。 。 Desirous of saving the remainder； she besought her master to make complaints； as though he could prevent the individual and stealthy robberies。 The orderlies and followers of the Count were pocketing everything they could lay their hands on； saying smilingly that they were souvenirs。 Later on the woman approached Desnoyers with a mysterious air to impart a new revelation。 She had seen a head officer force open the chiffoniers where her mistress was accustomed to keep her lingerie； and he was making up a package of the finest pieces； including a great quantity of blonde lace。
〃That's the one； Master；〃 she said soon after； pointing to a German who was writing in the garden； where an oblique ray of sunlight was filtering through the branches upon his table。
Don Marcelo recognized him with surprise。 Commandant Blumhardt； too！ 。 。 。 But immediately he excused the act。 He supposed it was only natural that this official should want to take something away from the castle； since the Count had set the example。 Besides； he took into account the quality of the objects which he was appropriating。 They were not for himself； they were for the wife； for the daughters。 。 。 。 A good father of his family！ For more than an hour now； he had been sitting before that table writing incessantly； conversing； pen in hand； with his Augusta and all the family in Cassel。 Better that this good man should carry off his stuff than those other domineering officers with cutting voices and insolent stiffness。
Desnoyers noticed； too； that the writer raised his head every time that Georgette； the Warden's daughter； passed by； following her with his eyes。 The poor father！ 。 。 。 Undoubtedly he was comparing her with his two girls home in Germany； with all their thoughts on the war。 He； too； was thinking of Chichi； fearing sometimes； that he might never see her again。 In one of her trips from the castle to her home； Blumhardt called the child to him。 She stopped before the table； timid and shrinking as though she felt a presentiment of danger； but making an effort to smile。 The Prussian father meanwhile chatted with her； and patted her cheeks with his great pawsa sight which touched Desnoyers deeply。 The memories of a pacific and virtuous life were rising above the horrors of war。 Decidedly this one enemy was a good man； anyway。
Because of his conclusion； the millionaire smiled indulgently when the Commandant； leaving the table； came toward himafter delivering his letter and a bulky package to a soldier to take to the battalion post…office in the village。
〃It is for my family；〃 he explained。 〃I do not let a day pass without sending them a letter。 Theirs are so precious to me！ 。 。 。 I am also sending them a few remembrances。〃
Desnoyers was on the point of protesting。 。 。 。 But with a shrug of indifference； he concluded to keep silence as if he did not object。 The Commandant continued talking of the sweet Augusta and their children while the invisible tempest kept on thundering beyond the serene twilight horizon。 Each time the cannonading was more intense。
〃The battle；〃 continued Blumhardt。 〃Always a battle！ 。 。 。 Surely it is the last and we are going to win。 Within the week； we shall be entering Paris。 。 。 。 But how many will never see it！ So many dead！ 。 。 。 I understand that to…morrow we shall not be here。 All the Reserves are to combine with the attack so as to overcome the last resistance。 。 。 。 If only I do not fall！〃 。 。 。
Thoughts of the possibility of death the following day contracted his forehead in a scowl of hatred。 A deep； vertical line was parting his eyebrows。 He frowned ferociously at Desnoyers as though making him responsible for his death and the trouble of his family。 For a few moments Don Marcelo could hardly recognize this man； transformed by warlike passions； as the sweet…natured and friendly Blumhardt of a little while before。
The sun was beginning to set when a sub…officer； the one of the Social…Democracy； came running in search of the Commandant。 Desnoyers could not understand what was the matter because they were speaking in German； but following the direction of the messenger's continual pointing； he saw beyond the iron gates a group of country people and some soldiers with guns。 Blumhardt； after a brief reflection； started toward the group and Don Marcelo behind him。
Soon he saw a village lad in the charge of some Germans who were holding their bayonets to his breast。 His face was colorless； with the whiteness of a wax candle。 His shirt； blackened with soot； was so badly torn that it told of a hand…to…hand struggle。 On one temple was a gash； bleeding badly。 A short distance away was a woman with dishevelled hair； holding a baby； and surrounded by four children all covered with black grime as though coming from a coal mine。
The woman was pleading desperately； raising her hands appealingly； her sobs interrupting her story which she was uselessly trying to tell the soldiers； incapable of understanding her。 The petty officer convoying the band spoke in German with the Commandant while the woman besought the intervention of Desnoyers。 When she recognized the owner of the castle； she suddenly regained her serenity； believing that he could intercede for her。
That husky young boy was her son。 They had all been hiding since the day before in the cellar of their burned house。 Hunger and the danger of death from asphyxiation had forced them finally to venture forth。 As soon as the Germans had seen her son； they had beaten him and were going to shoot him as they were shooting all the young men。 They believed that the lad was twenty years old； the age of a soldier； and in order that he might not join the French army； they were going to kill him。
〃It's a lie！〃 shrieked the mother。 〃He is not more than eighteen 。 。 。 not eighteen 。 。 。 a little lesshe's only seventeen。〃
She turned to those who were following behind； in order to implore their testimonysad women； equally dirty； their ragged garments smelling of fire； poverty and death。 All assented； adding their outcries to those of the mother。 Some even went so far as to say that the overgrown boy was only sixteen 。 。 。 fifteen！ And to this feminine chorus was added the wailing of the little ones looking at their brother with eyes distended with terror。
The Commandant examined the prisoner while he listened to the official。 An employee of the township had said carelessly that the child was about twenty； never dreaming that with this inaccuracy he was causing his death。
〃It was a lie！〃 repeated the mother guessing instinctively what they were saying。 〃That man made a mistake。 My boy is robust and； therefore； looks older than he is； but he is not twenty。 。 。 。 The gentleman from the castle who knows him can tell you so。 Is it not so； Monsieur Desnoyers？〃
Since； in her maternal desperation； she had appealed to his protection； Don Marcelo believed that he ought to intervene； and so he spoke to the Commandant。 He knew this youth very well （he did not ever remember having seen him before） and believed that he really was under twenty。
〃And even if he were of age；〃 he added； 〃is that a crime to shoot a man for？〃
Blumhardt did not reply。 Since he had recovered his functions of command； he ignored absolutely Don Marcelo's existence。 He was about to say something； to give an order； but hesitated。 It might be better to consult His Excellency 。 。 。 and seeing that he was going toward the castle； Desnoyers marched by his side。
〃Commandant； this c
