the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第76部分

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　Within　were　the　armories　and　the　sleeping　roomsthree　rows　of　berths　made　with　planks　like　the　beds　of　seamen。　　The　desire　for　artistic　ornamentation　which　even　the　simplest　souls　always　feel；　had　led　to　the　embellishment　of　the　underground　dwellings。　　Each　soldier　had　a　private　museum　made　with　prints　from　the　papers　and　colored　postcards。　　Photographs　of　soubrettes　and　dancers　with　their　painted　mouths　smiled　from　the　shiny　cardboard；　enlivening　the　chaste　aspect　of　the　redoubt。

Don　Marcelo　was　growing　more　and　more　impatient　at　seeing　so　many　hundreds　of　men；　but　no　Julio。　　The　senator；　complying　with　his　imploring　glance；　spoke　a　few　words　to　the　chief　preceding　him　with　an　aspect　of　great　deference。　　The　official　had　at　first　to　think　very　hard　to　recall　Julio　to　mind；　but　he　soon　remembered　the　exploits　of　Sergeant　Desnoyers。　　〃An　excellent　soldier；〃　he　said。　〃He　will　be　sent　for　immediately；　Senator　Lacour。　。　。　。　　He　is　on　duty　now　with　his　section　in　the　first　line　trenches。〃

The　father；　in　his　anxiety　to　see　him；　proposed　that　they　betake　themselves　to　that　advanced　site；　but　his　petition　made　the　Chief　and　the　others　smile。　　Those　open　trenches　within　a　hundred　or　fifty　yards　from　the　enemy；　with　no　other　defence　but　barbed　wire　and　sacks　of　earth；　were　not　for　the　visits　of　civilians。　　They　were　always　filled　with　mud；　the　visitors　would　have　to　crawl　around　exposed　to　bullets　and　under　the　dropping　chunks　of　earth　loosened　by　the　shells。　　None　but　the　combatants　could　get　around　in　these　outposts。

〃It　is　always　dangerous　there；〃　said　the　Chief。　　〃There　is　always　random　shooting。　。　。　。　　Just　listen　to　the　firing！〃

Desnoyers　indeed　perceived　a　distant　crackling　that　he　had　not　noted　before；　and　he　felt　an　added　anguish　at　the　thought　that　his　son　must　be　in　the　thick　of　it。　　Realization　of　the　dangers　to　which　he　must　be　daily　exposed；　now　stood　forth　in　high　relief。　　What　if　he　should　die　in　the　intervening　moments；　before　he　could　see　him？　。　。　。

Time　dragged　by　with　desperate　sluggishness　for　Don　Marcelo。　　It　seemed　to　him　that　the　messenger　who　had　been　despatched　for　him　would　never　arrive。　　He　paid　scarcely　any　attention　to　the　affairs　which　the　Chief　was　so　courteously　showing　themthe　caverns　which　served　the　soldiers　as　toilet　rooms　and　bathrooms　of　most　primitive　arrangement；　the　cave　with　the　sign；　〃Cafe　de　la　Victoire；〃　another　in　fanciful　lettering；　〃Theatre。〃　。　。　。　　Lacour　was　taking　a　lively　interest　in　all　this；　lauding　the　French　gaiety　which　laughs　and　sings　in　the　presence　of　danger；　while　his　friend　continued　brooding　about　Julio。　　When　would　he　ever　see　him？

They　stopped　near　one　of　the　embrasures　of　a　machine…gun　position　stationing　themselves　at　the　recommendations　of　the　soldiers；　on　both　sides　of　the　horizontal　opening；　keeping　their　bodies　well　back；　but　putting　their　heads　far　enough　forward　to　look　out　with　one　eye。　　They　saw　a　very　deep　excavation　and　the　opposite　edge　of　ground。　　A　short　distance　away　were　several　rows　of　X's　of　wood　united　by　barbed　wire；　forming　a　compact　fence。　　About　three　hundred　feet　further　on；　was　a　second　wire　fence。　　There　reigned　a　profound　silence　here；　a　silence　of　absolute　loneliness　as　though　the　world　was　asleep。

〃There　are　the　trenches　of　the　Boches；〃　said　the　Commandant；　in　a　low　tone。

〃Where？〃　asked　the　senator；　making　an　effort　to　see。

The　Chief　pointed　to　the　second　wire　fence　which　Lacour　and　his　friend　had　supposed　belonged　to　the　French。　　It　was　the　German　intrenchment　line。

〃We　are　only　a　hundred　yards　away　from　them；〃　he　continued；　〃but　for　some　time　they　have　not　been　attacking　from　this　side。〃

The　visitors　were　greatly　moved　at　learning　that　the　foe　was　such　a　short　distance　off；　hidden　in　the　ground　in　a　mysterious　invisibility　which　made　it　all　the　more　terrible。　　What　if　they　should　pop　out　now　with　their　saw…edged　bayonets；　fire…breathing　liquids　and　asphyxiating　bombs　to　assault　this　stronghold！　。　。　。

From　this　window　they　could　observe　more　clearly　the　intensity　of　the　firing　on　the　outer　line。　　The　shots　appeared　to　be　coming　nearer。　　The　Commandant　brusquely　ordered　them　to　leave　their　observatory；　fearing　that　the　fire　might　become　general。　　The　soldiers；　with　their　customary　promptitude；　without　receiving　any　orders；　approached　their　guns　which　were　in　horizontal　position；　pointing　through　the　loopholes。

Again　the　visitors　walked　in　single　file；　going　down　into　cavernous　spaces　that　had　been　the　old　wine…cellars　of　former　houses。　　The　officers　had　taken　up　their　abode　in　these　dens；　utilizing　all　the　residue　of　the　ruins。　　A　street　door　on　two　wooden　horses　served　as　a　table；　the　ceilings　and　walls　were　covered　with　cretonnes　from　the　Paris　warehouses；　photographs　of　women　and　children　adorned　the　side　wall　between　the　nickeled　glitter　of　telegraphic　and　telephonic　instruments。

Desnoyers　saw　above　one　door　an　ivory　crucifix；　yellowed　with　years；　probably　with　centuries；　transmitted　from　generation　to　generation；　that　must　have　witnessed　many　agonies　of　soul。　　In　another　den　he　noticed　in　a　conspicuous　place；　a　horseshoe　with　seven　holes。　Religious　creeds　were　spreading　their　wings　very　widely　in　this　atmosphere　of　danger　and　death；　and　yet　at　the　same　time；　the　most　grotesque　superstitions　were　acquiring　new　values　without　any　one　laughing　at　them。

Upon　leaving　one　of　the　cells；　in　the　middle　of　an　open　space；　the　yearning　father　met　his　son。　　He　knew　that　it　must　be　Julio　by　the　Chief's　gesture　and　because　the　smiling　soldier　was　coming　toward　him；　holding　out　his　hands；　but　this　time　his　paternal　instinct　which　he　had　heretofore　considered　an　infallible　thing；　had　given　him　no　warning。　　How　could　he　recognize　Julio　in　that　sergeant　whose　feet　were　two　cakes　of　moist　earth；　whose　faded　cloak　was　a　mass　of　tatters　covered　with　mud；　even　up　to　the　shoulders；　smelling　of　damp　wool　and　leather？　。　。　。　　After　the　first　embrace；　he　drew　back　his　head　in　order　to　get　a　good　look　at　him　without　letting　go　of　him。　His　olive　pallor　had　turned　to　a　bronze　tone。　　He　was　growing　a　beard；　a　beard　black　and　curly；　which　reminded　Don　Marcelo　of　his　father…in…law。　　The　centaur；　Madariaga；　had　certainly　come　to　life　in　this　warrior　hardened　by　camping　in　the　open　air。　　At　first；　the　father　grieved　over　his　dirty　and　tired　aspect；　but　a　second　glance　made　him　sure　that　he　was　now　far　more　handsome　and　interesting　than　in　his　days　of　society　glory。

〃What　do　you　need？　。　。　。　　What　do　you　want？〃

His　voice　was　trembling　with　tenderness。　　He　was　speaking　to　the　tanned　and　robust　combatant　in　the　same　tone　that　he　was　wont　to　use　twenty　years　ago　when；　holding　the　child　by　the　hand；　he　had　halted　before　the　preserve　cupboards　of　Buenos　Aires。

〃Would　you　like　money？　。　。　。〃

He　had　brought　a　large　sum　with　him　to　give　to　his　son；　but　the　soldier　gave　a　shrug　of　indifference　as　though　he　had　offered　him　a　plaything。　　He　had　never　been　so　rich　as　at　this　moment；　he　had　a　lot　of　money　in　Paris　and　he　didn't　know　what　to　do　with　ithe　didn't　need　anything。

〃Send　me　some　cigars　。　。　。　for　me　and　my　comrades。〃

He　was　constantly　receiving　from　his　mother　great　baskets　full　of　choice　goodies；　tobacco　and　clothing。　　But　he　never　kept　anything；　all　was　passed　on　to　his　fellow…warriors；　sons　of　poor　families　or　alone　in　the　world。　　His　munificence　had　spread　from　his　intimates　to　the　company；　and　from　that　to　the　entire　battalion。　　Don　Marcelo　divined　his　great　popularity　in　the　glances　and　smiles　of　the　soldiers　passing　near　them。　　He　was　the　generous　son　of　a　millionaire；　and　this　popularity　seemed　to　include　even　him　when　the　news　went　around　that　the　father　of　Sergeant　Desnoyers　had　arrived　a　potentate　who　possessed　fabulous　wealth　on　the　other　side　of　the　sea。

〃I　guessed　that　you　would　want　cigars；〃　chuckled　the　old　man。

And　his　gaze　sought　the　bags　brought　from　the　automobile　through　the　windings　of　the　underground　road。

All　of　the　son's　valorous　deeds；　extolled　and　magnified　by　Argensola；　now　came　trooping　into　his　mind。　　He　had　the　original　hero　before　his　very　eyes。

〃Are　you　content；　satisfied？　。　。　。　　You　do　not　repent　of　your　decision？〃

〃Yes；　I　am　content；　father　。　。　。　very　content。〃

Julio　spoke　without　boasting；　modestly。　　His　life　was　very　hard；　but　just　like　that　of　millions　of　other　men。　　In　his　section　of　a　few　dozens　of　soldiers　there　were　many　superior　to　him　in　intelligence；　in　studiousness；　in　character；　but　they　were　all　courageously　undergoing　the　test；　experiencing　the　satisfaction　of　duty　fulfilled。　　The　common　danger　was　helping　to　develop　the　noblest　virtues　of　these　men。　　Never；　in　times　of　peace；　had　he　known　such　comradeship。　　What　magnificent　sacrifices　he　had　witnessed！

〃When　all　this　is　over；　men　will　be　better　。　。　。　more　generous。　Those　who　survive　will　do　great　things。〃

Yes；　of　course；　he　was　content。　　For　the　first　time　in　his　life　he　was　tasting　the　delights　of　knowing　that　he　was　a　useful　being；　that　he　was　good　for　something；　that　his　passing　through　the　world　would　not　be　fruitless。　　He　recalled　with　pity　that　Desnoyers　who　had　not　known　how　to　occupy　his　empty　life；　and　had　filled　it　with　every　kind　of　frivolity。　　Now　he　had　obligations　that　were　taxing　all　his　powers；　he　was　collaborating　in　the　formation　of　a　future。　　He　was　a　man　at　last！

〃I　am　content；〃　he　repeated　with　conviction。

His　father　believed　him；　yet　he　fancied　that；　in　a　corner　of　that　frank　glance；　he　detected　something　sorrowful；　a　memory　of　a　past　which　perhaps　often　forced　its　way　among　his　present　emotions。　There　flitted　through　his　mind　the　lovely　figure　of　Madame　Laurier。　Her　charm　was；　doubtless；　still　haunting　his　son。　　And　to　think　that　he　could　not　bring　her　here！　。　。　。　　The　austere　father　of　the　preceding　year　contemplated　himself　with　astonishment　as　he　caught　himself　formulating　this　immoral　regret。

They　passed　a　quarter　of　an　hour　without　loosening　hands；　looking　into　each　other's　eyes。　　Julio　asked　after　his　mother　and　Chichi。　He　frequently　received　letters　from　them；　but　that　was　not　enough　for　his　curiosity。　　He　laughed　heartily　at　hearing　of　Argensola's　amplified　and　abundant　life。　　These　interesting　bits　of　news　came　from　a　world　not　much　more　than　sixty　miles　distant　in　a　di