the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第61部分
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
in the ruins of their homes。 Fear had made them temporarily forget their hunger； but finding that the enemy had gone； they were suddenly assailed by all necessitous demands； intensified by hours of anguish。
Desnoyers felt as though he were surrounded by a tribe of brutalized and famished Indians like those he had often seen in his adventurous voyages。 He had brought with him from Paris a quantity of gold pieces； and he pulled out a coin which glittered in the sun。 Bread was needed； everything eatable was needed； he would pay without haggling。
The flash of gold aroused looks of enthusiasm and greediness； but this impression was short…lived； all eyes contemplating the yellow discs with indifference。 Don Marcelo was himself convinced that the miraculous charm had lost its power。 They all chanted a chorus of sorrow and horrors with slow and plaintive voice； as though they stood weeping before a bier： 〃Monsieur； they have killed my husband。〃 。 。 。 〃Monsieur； my sons！ Two of them are missing。〃 。 。 。 Monsieur； they have taken all the men prisoners： they say it is to work the land in Germany。〃 。 。 。 〃Monsieur； bread！ 。 。 。 My little ones are dying of hunger！〃
One woman was lamenting something worse than death。 〃My girl！ 。 。 。 My poor girl！〃 Her look of hatred and wild desperation revealed the secret tragedy； her outcries and tears recalled that other mother who was sobbing in the same way up at the castle。 In the depths of some cave； was lying the victim； half…dead with fatigue； shaken with a wild delirium in which she still saw the succession of brutal faces； inflamed with simian passion。
The miserable group； forming themselves into a circle around him； stretched out their hands beseechingly toward the man whom they knew to be so very rich。 The women showed him the death…pallor on the faces of their scarcely breathing babies； their eyes glazed with starvation。 〃Bread！ 。 。 。 bread！〃 they implored； as though he could work a miracle。 He gave to one mother the gold piece that he had in his hand and distributed more to the others。 They took them without looking at them； and continued their lament； 〃Bread！ 。 。 。 Bread！〃 And he had gone to the village to make the same supplication！ 。 。 。 He fled； recognizing the uselessness of his efforts。
CHAPTER VI
THE BANNER OF THE RED CROSS
Returning in desperation to his estate； Don Marcelo Desnoyers saw huge automobiles and men on horseback； forming a very long convoy and completely filling the road。 They were all going in his direction。 At the entrance to the park a band of Germans was putting up the wires for a telephone line。 They had just been reconnoitering the rooms befouled with the night's saturnalia； and were ha…haing boisterously over Captain von Hartrott's inscription； 〃Bitte； nicht plundern。〃 To them it seemed the acme of wittruly Teutonic。
The convoy now invaded the park with its automobiles and trucks bearing a red cross。 A war hospital was going to be established in the castle。 The doctors were dressed in grayish green and armed the same as the officers； they also imitated their freezing hauteur and repellent unapproachableness。 There came out of the drays hundreds of folding cots； which were placed in rows in the different rooms。 The furniture that still remained was thrown out in a heap under the trees。 Squads of soldiers were obeying with mechanical promptitude the brief and imperious orders。 An odor of an apothecary shop； of concentrated drugs； now pervaded the quarters； mixed with the strong smell of the antiseptics with which they were sprinkling the walls in order to disinfect the filthy remains of the nocturnal orgy。
Then he saw women clad in white； buxom girls with blue eyes and flaxen hair。 They were grave； bland； austere and implacable in appearance。 Several times they pushed Desnoyers out of their way as if they did not see him。 They looked like nuns； but with revolvers under their habits。
At midday other automobiles began to arrive； attracted by the enormous white flag with the red cross； which was now waving from the castle tower。 They came from the division battling beyond the Marne。 Their metal fittings were dented by projectiles； their wind… shields broken by star…shaped holes。 From their interiors appeared men and more men； some on foot； others on canvas stretchersfaces pale and rubicund； profiles aquiline and snubby； red heads and skulls wrapped in white turbans stiff with blood； mouths that laughed with bravado and mouths that groaned with bluish lips； jaws supported with mummy…like bandages； giants in agony whose wounds were not apparent； shapeless forms ending in a head that talked and smoked； legs with hanging flesh that was dyeing the First Aid wrappings with their red moisture； arms that hung as inert as dead boughs； torn uniforms in which were conspicuous the tragic vacancies of absent members。
This avalanche of suffering was quickly distributed throughout the castle。 In a few hours it was so completely filled that there was not a vacant bedthe last arrivals being laid in the shadow of the trees。 The telephones were ringing incessantly； the surgeons in coarse aprons were going from one side to the other； working rapidly； human life was submitted to savage proceedings with roughness and celerity。 Those who died under it simply left one more cot free for the others that kept on coming。 Desnoyers saw bloody baskets filled with shapeless masses of flesh； strips of skin； broken bones； entire limbs。 The orderlies were carrying these terrible remnants to the foot of the park in order to bury them in a little plot which had been Chichi's favorite reading nook。
Pairs of soldiers were carrying out objects wrapped in sheets which the owner recognized as his。 These were the dead； and the park was soon converted into a cemetery。 No longer was the little retreat large enough to hold the corpses and the severed remains from the operations。 New grave trenches were being opened near by。 The Germans armed with shovels were pressing into service a dozen of the farmer…prisoners to aid in unloading the dead。 Now they were bringing them down by the cartload； dumping them in like the rubbish from some demolished building。 Don Marcelo felt an abnormal delight in contemplating this increasing number of vanquished enemies； yet he grieved at the same time that this precipitation of intruders should be deposited forever on his property。
At nightfall； overwhelmed by so many emotions； he again suffered the torments of hunger。 All day long he had eaten nothing but the crust of bread found in the kitchen by the Warden's wife。 The rest he had left for her and her daughter。 A distress as harrowing to him as his hunger was the sight of poor Georgette's shocked despondency。 She was always trying to escape from his presence in an agony of shame。
〃Don't let the Master see me！〃 she would cry； hiding her face。 Since his presence seemed to recall more vividly the memory of her assaults； Desnoyers tried； while in the lodge； to avoid going near her。
Desperate with the gnawings of his empty stomach； he accosted several doctors who were speaking French； but all in vain。 They would not listen to him； and when he repeated his petitions they pushed him roughly out of their way。 。 。 。 He was not going to perish with hunger in the midst of his riches！ Those people were eating； the indifferent nurses had established themselves in his kitchen。 。 。 。 But the time passed on without encountering anybody who would take pity on this old man dragging himself weakly from one place to another； in the misery of an old age intensified by despair； and suffering in every part of the body； the results of the blows of the night before。 He now knew the gnawings of a hunger far worse than that which he had suffered when journeying over the desert plainsa hunger among men； in a civilized country； wearing a belt filled with gold； surrounded with towers and castle halls which were his； but in the control of others who would not condescend to listen to him。 And for this piteous ending of his life he had amassed millions and returned to Europe！ 。 。 。 Ah； the irony of fate！ 。 。 。
He saw a doctor's assistant leaning up against a tree； about to devour a slab of bread and sausage。 His envious eyes scrutinized this fellow； tall； thick…set； his jaws bristling with a great red beard。 The trembling old man staggered up to him； begging for the food by signs and holding out a piece of money。 The German's eyes glistened at the sight of the gold； and a beatific smile stretched his mouth from ear to ear。
〃Ya；〃 he responded； and grabbing the money； he handed over the food。
Don Marcelo commenced to swallow it with avidity。 Never had he so appreciated the sheer ecstasy of eating as at that instantin the midst of his gardens converted into a cemetery； before his despoiled castle where hundreds of human beings were groaning in agony。 A grayish arm passed before his eyes； it belonged to the German； who had returned with two slices of bread and a bit of meat snatched from the kitchen。 He repeated his smirking 〃Ya？〃 。 。 。 and after his victim had secured it by means of another gold coin； he was able to take it to the two women hidden in the cottage。
During the nighta night of painful watching； cut with visions of horror； it seemed to him that the roar of the artillery was coming nearer。 It was a scarcely perceptible difference； perhaps the effect of the silence of the night which always intensifies sound。 The ambulances continued coming from the front； discharging their cargoes of riddled humanity and going back for more。 Desnoyers surmised that his castle was but one of the many hospitals established in a line of more than eighty miles； and that on the other side； behind the French； were many similar ones in which the same activity was going onthe consignments of dying men succeeding each other with terrifying frequency。 Many of the combatants were not even having the satisfaction of being taken from the battle field； but were lying groaning on the ground； burying their bleeding members in the dust or mud； and weltering in the ooze from their wounds。 。 。 。 And Don Marcelo； who a few hours before had been considering himself the unhappiest of m
