the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第66部分

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ieces　of　the　bayonets；　the　metal　plates；　the　fittings　of　the　guns　were　sparkling　like　bits　of　crystal。　　The　damp　night；　the　rain；　the　rust　of　time　had　not　yet　modified　with　their　corrosive　action　these　relics　of　combat。

But　decomposition　had　begun　to　set　in。　　Graveyard　odors　were　all　along　the　road；　increasing　in　intensity　as　Desnoyers　plodded　on　toward　Paris。　　Every　half　hour；　the　evidence　of　corruption　became　more　pronouncedmany　of　the　dead　on　this　side　of　the　river　having　lain　there　for　three　or　four　days。　　Bands　of　crows；　at　the　sound　of　his　footsteps；　rose　up；　lazily　flapping　their　wings；　but　returning　soon　to　blacken　the　earth；　surfeited　but　not　satisfied；　having　lost　all　fear　of　mankind。

From　time　to　time；　the　sad　pedestrian　met　living　bands　of　men　platoons　of　cavalry；　gendarmes；　Zouaves　and　chasseurs　encamped　around　the　ruined　farmsteads；　exploring　the　country　in　pursuit　of　German　fugitives。　　Don　Marcelo　had　to　explain　his　business　there；　showing　the　passport　that　Lacour　had　given　him　in　order　to　make　his　trip　on　the　military　train。　　Only　in　this　way；　could　he　continue　his　journey。　　These　soldiersmany　of　them　slightly　woundedwere　still　stimulated　by　victory。　　They　were　laughing；　telling　stories；　and　narrating　the　great　dangers　which　they　had　escaped　a　few　days　before；　always　ending　with；　〃We　are　going　to　kick　them　across　the　frontier！〃　。　。　。

Their　indignation　broke　forth　afresh　as　they　looked　around　at　the　blasted　townsfarms　and　single　houses；　all　burned。　　Like　skeletons　of　prehistoric　beasts；　many　steel　frames　twisted　by　the　flames　were　scattered　over　the　plains。　　The　brick　chimneys　of　the　factories　were　either　levelled　to　the　ground　or；　pierced　with　the　round　holes　made　by　shells；　were　standing　up　like　giant　pastoral　flutes　forced　into　the　earth。

Near　the　ruined　villages；　the　women　were　removing　the　earth　and　trying　to　dig　burial　trenches；　but　their　labor　was　almost　useless　because　it　required　an　immense　force　to　inter　so　many　dead。　　〃We　are　all　going　to　die　after　gaining　the　victory；〃　mused　the　old　man。　〃The　plague　is　going　to　break　out　among　us。〃

The　water　of　the　river　must　also　be　contaminated　by　this　contagion；　so　when　his　thirst　became　intolerable　he　drank；　in　preference；　from　a　nearby　pond。　。　。　。　　But；　alas；　on　raising　his　head；　he　saw　some　greenish　legs　on　the　surface　of　the　shallow　water；　the　boots　sunk　in　the　muddy　banks。　　The　head　of　the　German　was　in　the　depths　of　the　pool。

He　had　been　trudging　on　for　several　hours　when　he　stopped　before　a　ruined　house　which　he　believed　that　he　recognized。　　Yes；　it　was　the　tavern　where　he　had　lunched　a　few　days　ago　on　his　way　to　the　castle。　He　forced　his　way　in　among　the　blackened　walls　where　a　persistent　swarm　of　flies　came　buzzing　around　him。　　The　smell　of　decomposing　flesh　attracted　his　attention；　a　leg　which　looked　like　a　piece　of　charred　cardboard　was　wedged　in　the　ruins。　　Looking　at　it　bitterly　he　seemed　to　hear　again　the　old　woman　with　her　grandchildren　clinging　to　her　skirts〃Monsieur；　why　are　the　people　fleeing？　　War　only　concerns　the　soldiers。　　We　countryfolk　have　done　no　wrong　to　anybody；　and　we　ought　not　to　be　afraid。〃

Half　an　hour　later；　on　descending　a　hilly　path；　the　traveller　had　the　most　unexpected　of　encounters。　　He　saw　there　a　taxicab；　an　automobile　from　Paris。　　The　chauffeur　was　walking　tranquilly　around　the　vehicle　as　if　it　were　at　the　cab　stand；　and　he　promptly　entered　into　conversation　with　this　gentleman　who　appeared　to　him　as　downcast　and　dirty　as　a　tramp；　with　half　of　his　livid　face　discolored　from　a　blow。　　He　had　brought　out　here　in　his　machine　some　Parisians　who　had　wanted　to　see　the　battlefield；　they　were　reporters；　and　he　was　waiting　there　to　take　them　back　at　nightfall。

Don　Marcelo　buried　his　right　hand　in　his　pocket。　　Two　hundred　francs　if　the　man　would　drive　him　to　Paris。　　The　chauffeur　declined　with　the　gravity　of　a　man　faithful　to　his　obligations。　。　。　。　〃Five　hundred？〃　。　。　。　and　he　showed　his　fist　bulging　with　gold　coins。　　The　man's　only　response　was　a　twirl　of　the　handle　which　started　the　machine　to　snorting；　and　away　they　sped。　　There　was　not　a　battle　in　the　neighborhood　of　Paris　every　day　in　the　year！　　His　other　clients　could　just　wait。

And　settling　back　into　the　motor…car；　Desnoyers　saw　the　horrors　of　the　battle　field　flying　past　at　a　dizzying　speed　and　disappearing　behind　him。　　He　was　rolling　toward　human　life　。　。　。　he　was　returning　to　civilization！

As　they　came　into　Paris；　the　nearly　empty　streets　seemed　to　him　to　be　crowded　with　people。　　Never　had　he　seen　the　city　so　beautiful。　He　whirled　through　the　avenue　de　l'Opera；　whizzed　past　the　place　de　la　Concorde；　and　thought　he　must　be　dreaming　as　he　realized　the　gigantic　leap　that　he　had　taken　within　the　hour。　　He　compared　all　that　was　now　around　him　with　the　sights　on　that　plain　of　death　but　a　few　miles　away。　　No；　no；　it　was　not　possible。　　One　of　the　extremes　of　this　contrast　must　certainly　be　false！

The　automobile　was　beginning　to　slow　down；　he　must　be　now　in　the　avenue　Victor　Hugo。　。　。　。　　He　couldn't　wake　up。　　Was　that　really　his　home？　。　。　。

The　majestic　concierge；　unable　to　understand　his　forlorn　appearance；　greeted　him　with　amazed　consternation。　　〃Ah。　　Monsieur！　。　。　。　　Where　has　Monsieur　been？〃　。　。　。

〃In　hell！〃　muttered　Don　Marcelo。

His　wonderment　continued　when　he　found　himself　actually　in　his　own　apartment；　going　through　its　various　rooms。　　He　was　somebody　once　more。　　The　sight　of　the　fruits　of　his　riches　and　the　enjoyment　of　home　comforts　restored　his　self…respect　at　the　same　time　that　the　contrast　recalled　to　his　mind　the　recollection　of　all　the　humiliations　and　outrages　that　he　had　suffered。　。　。　。　　Ah；　the　scoundrels！　。　。　。

Two　mornings　later；　the　door　bell　rang。　　A　visitor！

There　came　toward　him　a　soldiera　little　soldier　of　the　infantry；　timid；　with　his　kepis　in　his　hand；　stuttering　excuses　in　Spanish：　〃I　knew　that　you　were　here　。　。　。　I　come　to　。　。　。〃

That　voice？　。　。　。　Dragging　him　from　the　dark　hallway；　Don　Marcelo　conducted　him　to　the　balcony。　。　。　。　How　handsome　he　looked！　。　。　。　The　kepis　was　red；　but　darkened　with　wear；　the　cloak；　too　large；　was　torn　and　darned；　the　great　shoes　had　a　strong　smell　of　leather。　　Yet　never　had　his　son　appeared　to　him　so　elegant；　so　distinguished…　looking　as　now；　fitted　out　in　these　rough　ready…made　clothes。

〃You！　。　。　。　You！　。　。　。〃

The　father　embraced　him　convulsively；　crying　like　a　child；　and　trembling　so　that　he　could　no　longer　stand。

He　had　always　hoped　that　they　would　finally　understand　each　other。　His　blood　was　coursing　through　the　boy's　veins；　he　was　good；　with　no　other　defect　than　a　certain　obstinacy。　　He　was　excusing　him　now　for　all　the　past；　blaming　himself　for　a　great　part　of　it。　　He　had　been　too　hard。

〃You　a　soldier！〃　he　kept　exclaiming　over　and　over。　　〃You　defending　my　country；　when　it　is　not　yours！〃　。　。　。

And　he　kissed　him　again；　receding　a　few　steps　so　as　to　get　a　better　look　at　him。　　Decidedly　he　was　more　fascinating　now　in　his　grotesque　uniform；　than　when　he　was　so　celebrated　for　his　skill　as　a　dancer　and　idolized　by　the　women。

When　the　delighted　father　was　finally　able　to　control　his　emotion；　his　eyes；　still　filled　with　tears；　glowed　with　a　malignant　light。　　A　spasm　of　hatred　furrowed　his　face。

〃Go；〃　he　said　simply。　　〃You　do　not　know　what　war　is；　I　have　just　come　from　it；　I　have　seen　it　close　by。　　This　is　not　a　war　like　other　wars；　with　rational　enemies；　it　is　a　hunt　of　wild　beasts。　。　。　。　Shoot　without　a　scruple　against　them　all。　。　。　。　　Every　one　that　you　overcome；　rids　humanity　of　a　dangerous　menace。〃

He　hesitated　a　few　seconds；　and　then　added　with　tragic　calm：

〃Perhaps　you　may　encounter　familiar　faces。　　Family　ties　are　not　always　formed　to　our　tastes。　　Men　of　your　blood　are　on　the　other　side。　　If　you　see　any　one　of　them　。　。　。　do　not　hesitate。　　Shoot！　　He　is　your　enemy。　　Kill　him！　。　。　。　Kill　him！〃



PART　III


CHAPTER　I

AFTER　THE　MARNE


At　the　end　of　October；　the　Desnoyers　family　returned　to　Paris。　　Dona　Luisa　could　no　longer　live　in　Biarritz；　so　far　from　her　husband。　　In　vain　la　Romantica　discoursed　on　the　dangers　of　a　return。　　The　Government　was　still　in　Bordeaux；　the　President　of　the　Republic　and　the　Ministry　making　only　the　most　hurried　apparitions　in　the　Capital。　　The　course　of　the　war　might　change　at　any　minute；　that　little　affair　of　the　Marne　was　but　a　momentary　relief。　。　。　。　　But　the　good　senora；　after　having　read　Don　Marcelo's　letters；　opposed　an　adamantine　will　to　all　contrary　suggestions。　　Besides；　she　was　thinking　of　her　son；　her　Julio；　now　a　soldier。　。　。　。　　She　believed　that；　by　returning　to　Paris；　she　might　in　some　ways　be　more　in　touch　with　him　than　at　this　seaside　resort　near　the　Spanish　frontier。

Chichi　also　wished　to　return　because　Rene　was　now　filling　the　greater　part　of　her　thoughts。　　Absence　had　shown　her　that　she　was　really　in　love　with　him。　　Such　a　long　time　without　seeing　her　little　sugar　soldier！　。　。　。　　So　the　family　abandoned　their　hotel　life　and　returned　to　the　avenue　Victor　Hugo。

Since　the　shock　of　the　first　September　days；　Paris　had　been　gradually　changing　its　aspect。　　The　nearly　two　million　inhabitants　who　had　been　living　quietly　in　their　homes　without　letting　themselves　be　drawn　into　the　panic；　had　accepted　the　victory　with　grave　serenity。　　None　of　them　could　explain　the　exact　course　of　the　battle；　they　would　learn　all　about　it　when　it　was　entirely　finished。

One　September　Sunday；　at　the　hour　when　the　Parisians　are　accustomed　to　take　advantage　of　the　lovely　twilight；　they　had　learned　from　the　newspapers　of　the　great　triumph　of　the　Allies　and　of　the　great　danger　which　they　had　so　narrowly　escaped。　　The　people　were　delighted；　but　did　not；　however；　abandon　their　calm　demeanor。　　Six　weeks　of　war　had　radically　changed　the　temperament　of　turbulent　and　impressionable　Paris。

The　victory　was　slowly　restoring　the　Capital　to　its　former　aspect。　A　street　that　was　practically　deserted　a　few　weeks　before　was　now　filled　with　transients。　　The　shops　were　reopening。　　The　neighbors　accustomed　to　the　conventional　silence　of　their　deserted　apartment　houses；　again　heard　sounds　of　returning　life　in　the　homes　above　and　below　them。

Don　Marcelo's　satisfaction　in　welcoming　his　family　home　was　considerably　clouded　by　the　presence　of　Don