the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第60部分

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te　shrieking　and　trying　to　defend　herself。　　Before　he　could　put　his　feet　to　the　floor　he　heard　a　man's　voice；　which　he　was　sure　was　the　Keeper's；　she　was　safe。

〃Ah；　you　villain！〃　。　。　。

Then　the　outbreak　of　a　second　struggle　。　。　。　a　shot　。　。　。　silence！

Rushing　down　the　hallway　that　ended　at　the　stairway　Desnoyers　saw　lights；　and　many　men　who　came　trooping　up　the　stairs；　bounding　over　several　steps　at　a　time。　　He　almost　fell　over　a　body　from　which　escaped　a　groan　of　agony。　　At　his　feet　lay　the　Warden；　his　chest　moving　like　a　pair　of　bellows；　his　eyes　glassy　and　unnaturally　distended；　his　mouth　covered　with　blood。　。　。　。　　Near　him　glistened　a　kitchen　knife。　　Then　he　saw　a　man　with　a　revolver　in　one　hand；　and　holding　shut　with　the　other　a　broken　door　that　someone　was　trying　to　open　from　within。　　Don　Marcelo　recognized　him；　in　spite　of　his　greenish　pallor　and　wild　look。　　It　was　Blumhardtanother　Blumhardt　with　a　bestial　expression　of　terrifying　ferocity　and　lust。

Don　Marcelo　could　see　clearly　how　it　had　all　happenedthe　debauchee　rushing　through　the　castle　in　search　of　his　prey；　the　anxious　father　in　close　pursuit；　the　cries　of　the　girl；　the　unequal　struggle　between　the　consumptive　with　his　emergency　weapon　and　the　warrior　triumphant。　　The　fury　of　his　youth　awoke　in　the　old　Frenchman；　sweeping　everything　before　it。　　What　did　it　matter　if　he　did　die？　。　。　。

〃Ah；　you　villain！〃　he　yelled；　as　the　poor　father　had　done。

And　with　clenched　fists　he　marched　up　to　the　German；　who　smiled　coldly　and　held　his　revolver　to　his　eyes。　　He　was　just　going　to　shoot　him　。　。　。　but　at　that　instant　Desnoyers　fell　to　the　floor；　knocked　down　by　those　who　were　leaping　up　the　stairs。　　He　received　many　blows；　the　heavy　boots　of　the　invaders　hammering　him　with　their　heels。　　He　felt　a　hot　stream　pouring　over　his　face。　　Blood！　。　。　。　He　did　not　know　whether　it　was　his　own　or　that　of　the　palpitating　mortal　slowly　dying　beside　him。　　Then　he　found　himself　lifted　from　the　floor　by　many　hands　which　pushed　him　toward　a　man。　　It　was　His　Excellency；　with　his　uniform　burst　open　and　smelling　of　wine。　　Eyes　and　voice　were　both　trembling。

〃My　dear　sir；〃　he　stuttered；　trying　to　recover　this　suave　irony；　〃I　warned　you　not　to　interfere　in　our　affairs　and　you　have　not　obeyed　me。　　You　may　now　take　the　consequences　of　your　lack　of　discretion。〃

He　gave　an　order；　and　the　old　man　felt　himself　pushed　downstairs　to　the　cellars　underneath　the　castle。　　Those　conducting　him　were　soldiers　under　the　command　of　a　petty　officer　whom　he　recognized　as　the　Socialist。　　This　young　professor　was　the　only　one　sober；　but　he　maintained　himself　erect　and　unapproachable　with　the　ferocity　of　discipline。

He　put　his　prisoner　into　an　arched　vault　without　any　breathing…place　except　a　tiny　window　on　a　level　with　the　floor。　　Many　broken　bottles　and　chests　with　some　straw　were　all　that　was　in　the　cave。

〃You　have　insulted　a　head　officer！〃　said　the　official　roughly；　〃and　they　will　probably　shoot　you　to…morrow。　　Your　only　salvation　lies　in　the　continuance　of　the　revels；　in　which　case　they　may　forget　you。〃

As　the　door　of　this　sub…cellar　was　broken；　like　all　the　others　in　the　building；　a　pile　of　boxes　and　furniture　was　heaped　in　the　entrance　way。

Don　Marcelo　passed　the　rest　of　the　night　tormented　with　the　cold　the　only　thing　which　worried　him　just　then。　　He　had　abandoned　all　hope　of　life；　even　the　images　of　his　family　seemed　blotted　from　his　memory。　　He　worked　in　the　dark　in　order　to　make　himself　more　comfortable　on　the　chests；　burrowing　down　into　the　straw　for　the　sake　of　its　heat。　　When　the　morning　breeze　began　to　sift　in　through　the　little　window　he　fell　slowly　into　a　heavy；　overpowering　sleep；　like　that　of　criminals　condemned　to　death；　or　duellists　before　the　fatal　morning。　　He　thought　he　heard　shouts　in　German；　the　galloping　of　horses；　a　distant　sound　of　tattoo　and　whistle　such　as　the　battalions　of　the　invaders　made　with　their　fifes　and　drums。　。　。　。　Then　he　lost　all　consciousness　of　his　surroundings。

On　opening　his　eyes　again　a　ray　of　sunlight；　slipping　through　the　window；　was　tracing　a　little　golden　square　on　the　wall；　giving　a　regal　splendor　to　the　hanging　cobwebs。　　Somebody　was　removing　the　barricade　before　the　door。　　A　woman's　voice；　timid　and　distressed；　was　calling　repeatedly：

〃Master；　are　you　here？〃

He　sprang　up　quickly；　wishing　to　aid　the　worker　outside；　and　pushing　vigorously。　　He　thought　that　the　invaders　must　have　left。　　In　no　other　way　could　he　imagine　the　Warden's　wife　daring　to　try　to　get　him　out　of　his　cell。

〃Yes；　they　have　gone；〃　she　said。　　〃Nobody　is　left　in　the　castle。〃

As　soon　as　he　was　able　to　get　out　Don　Marcelo　looked　inquiringly　at　the　woman　with　her　bloodshot　eyes；　dishevelled　hair　and　sorrow…drawn　face。　　The　night　had　weighed　her　down　pitilessly　with　the　pressure　of　many　years。　　All　the　energy　with　which　she　had　been　working　to　free　Desnoyers　disappeared　on　seeing　him　again。　　〃Oh；　Master　。　。　。　Master；〃　she　moaned　convulsively；　and　she　flung　herself　into　his　arms；　bursting　into　tears。

Don　Marcelo　did　not　need　to　ask　anything　further；　he　dreaded　to　know　the　truth。　　Nevertheless；　he　asked　after　her　husband。　　Now　that　he　was　awake　and　free；　he　cherished　the　fleeting　hope　that　what　he　had　gone　through　the　night　before　was　but　another　of　his　nightmares。　Perhaps　the　poor　man　was　still　living。　。　。　。

〃They　killed　him；　Monsieur。　　That　man　who　seemed　so　good　murdered　him。　。　。　。　　And　I　don't　know　where　his　body　is；　nobody　will　tell　me。〃

She　had　a　suspicion　that　the　corpse　was　in　the　fosse。　　The　green　and　tranquil　waters　had　closed　mysteriously　over　this　victim　of　the　night。　。　。　。　　Desnoyers　suspected　that　another　sorrow　was　troubling　the　mother　still　more；　but　he　kept　modestly　silent。　　It　was　she　who　finally　spoke；　between　outbursts　of　grief。　。　。　。　　Georgette　was　now　in　the　lodge。　　Horror…stricken　and　shuddering；　she　had　fled　there　when　the　invaders　had　left　the　castle。　　They　had　kept　her　in　their　power　until　the　last　minute。

〃Oh；　Master；　don't　look　at　her。　。　。　。　　She　is　trembling　and　sobbing　at　the　thought　that　you　may　speak　with　her　about　what　she　has　gone　through。　　She　is　almost　out　of　her　mind。　　She　longs　to　die！　　Ay；　my　little　girl！　。　。　。　　And　is　there　no　one　who　will　punish　these　monsters？〃

They　had　come　up　from　the　cellars　and　crossed　the　bridge；　the　woman　looking　fixedly　into　the　silent　waters。　　The　dead　body　of　a　swan　was　floating　upon　them。　　Before　their　departure；　while　their　horses　were　being　saddled；　two　officers　had　amused　themselves　by　chasing　with　revolver　shots　the　birds　swimming　in　the　moat。　　The　aquatic　plants　were　spotted　with　blood；　among　the　leaves　were　floating　some　tufts　of　limp　white　plumage　like　a　bit　of　washing　escaped　from　the　hands　of　a　laundress。

Don　Marcelo　and　the　woman　exchanged　a　compassionate　glance；　and　then　looked　pityingly　at　each　other　as　the　sunlight　brought　out　more　strongly　their　aging；　wan　appearance。

The　passing　of　these　people　had　destroyed　everything。　　There　was　no　food　left　in　the　castle　except　some　crusts　of　dry　bread　forgotten　in　the　kitchen。　　〃And　we　have　to　live；　Monsieur！〃　exclaimed　the　woman　with　reviving　energy　as　she　thought　of　her　daughter's　need。　　〃We　have　to　live；　if　only　to　see　how　God　punishes　them！〃　　The　old　man　shrugged　his　shoulders　in　despair；　God？　。　。　。　　But　the　woman　was　right；　they　had　to　live。

With　the　famished　audacity　of　his　early　youth；　when　he　was　travelling　over　boundless　tracts　of　land；　driving　his　herds　of　cattle；　he　now　rushed　outside　the　park；　hunting　for　some　form　of　sustenance。　　He　saw　the　valley；　fair　and　green；　basking　in　the　sun；　the　groups　of　trees；　the　plots　of　yellowish　soil　with　the　hard　spikes　of　stubble；　the　hedges　in　which　the　birds　were　singingall　the　summer　splendor　of　a　countryside　developed　and　cultivated　during　fifteen　centuries　by　dozens　and　dozens　of　generations。　　And　yet　here　he　was　alone　at　the　mercy　of　chance；　likely　to　perish　with　hungermore　alone　than　when　he　was　crossing　the　towering　heights　of　the　Andesthose　irregular　slopes　of　rocks　and　snow　wrapped　in　endless　silence；　only　broken　from　time　to　time　by　the　flapping　of　the　condor's　wings。　　Nobody。　。　。　。　　His　gaze　could　not　distinguish　a　single　movable　pointeverything　fixed；　motionless；　crystallized；　as　though　contracted　with　fear　before　the　peals　of　thunder　which　were　still　rumbling　around　the　horizon。

He　went　on　toward　the　villagea　mass　of　black　walls　with　a　few　houses　still　intact；　and　a　roofless　bell　tower　with　its　cross　twisted　by　fire。　　Nobody　in　the　streets　sown　with　bottles；　charred　chunks　of　wood；　and　soot…covered　rubbish。　　The　dead　bodies　had　disappeared；　but　a　nauseating　smell　of　decomposing　and　burned　flesh　assailed　his　nostrils。　　He　saw　a　mound　of　earth　where　the　shooting　had　taken　place；　and　from　it　were　protruding　two　feet　and　a　hand。　At　his　approach　several　black　forms　flew　up　into　the　air　from　a　trench　so　shallow　that　the　bodies　within　were　exposed　to　view。　　A　whirring　of　stiff　wings　beat　the　air　above　him；　flying　off　with　the　croakings　of　wrath。　　He　explored　every　nook　and　corner；　even　approaching　the　place　where　the　troopers　had　erected　their　barricade。　　The　carts　were　still　by　the　roadside。

He　then　retraced　his　steps；　calling　out　before　the　least　injured　houses；　and　putting　his　head　through　the　doors　and　windows　that　were　unobstructed　or　but　half　consumed。　　Was　nobody　left　in　Villeblanche？　He　descried　among　the　ruins　something　advancing　on　all　fours；　a　species　of　reptile　that　stopped　its　crawling　with　movements　of　hesitation　and　fear；　ready　to　retreat　or　slip　into　its　hole　under　the　ruins。　　Suddenly　the　creature　stopped　and　stood　up。　　It　was　a　man；　an　old　man。　　Other　human　larvae　were　coming　forth　conjured　by　his　shoutspoor　beings　who　hours　ago　had　given　up　the　standing　position　which　would　have　attracted　the　bullets　of　the　enemy；　and　had　been　enviously　imitating　the　lower　organisms；　squirming　through　the　dirt　as　fast　as　they　could　scurry　into　the　bosom　of　the　earth。　They　were　mostly　women　and　children；　all　filthy　and　black；　with　snarled　hair；　the　fierceness　of　animal　appetite　in　their　eyesthe　faintness　of　the　weak　animal　in　their　hanging　jaws。　　They　were　all　living　hidden　in　the　ruins　of　their　homes。　　Fear　had　made　them　temporarily　forget　their　hunger；　but　finding　that