all roads lead to calvary-第54节

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her；　if　we　didn't　want　to？　　Not　all　the　king's　horses　and　all　the　King's　men。　　No；　my　dears；　it's　we　make　the　wars。　　You　and　me；　my　dears。〃

There　came　a　day　in　early　spring。　　All　night　long　the　guns　had　never　ceased。　　It　sounded　like　the　tireless　barking　of　ten　thousand　giant　dogs。　　Behind　the　hills；　the　whole　horizon；　like　a　fiery　circle；　was　ringed　with　flashing　light。　　Shapeless　forms；　bent　beneath　burdens；　passed　in　endless　procession　through　the　village。　Masses　of　rushing　men　swept　like　shadowy　phantoms　through　the　fitfully…illumined　darkness。　　Beneath　that　everlasting　barking；　Joan　would　hear；　now　the　piercing　wail　of　a　child；　now　a　clap　of　thunder　that　for　the　moment　would　drown　all　other　sounds；　followed　by　a　faint；　low；　rumbling　crash；　like　the　shooting　of　coals　into　a　cellar。　　The　wounded　on　their　beds　lay　with　wide…open；　terrified　eyes；　moving　feverishly　from　side　to　side。

At　dawn　the　order　came　that　the　hospital　was　to　be　evacuated。　　The　ambulances　were　already　waiting　in　the　street。　　Joan　flew　up　the　ladder　to　her　loft；　the　other　side　of　the　yard。　　Madame　Lelanne　was　already　there。　　She　had　thrown　a　few　things　into　a　bundle；　and　her　foot　was　again　upon　the　ladder；　when　it　seemed　to　her　that　someone　struck　her；　hurling　her　back　upon　the　floor；　and　the　house　the　other　side　of　the　yard　rose　up　into　the　air；　and　then　fell　quite　slowly；　and　a　cloud　of　dust　hid　it　from　her　sight。

Madame　Lelanne　must　have　carried　her　down　the　ladder。　　She　was　standing　in　the　yard；　and　the　dust　was　choking　her。　　Across　the　street；　beyond　the　ruins　of　the　hospital；　swarms　of　men　were　running　about　like　ants　when　their　nest　has　been　disturbed。　　Some　were　running　this　way；　and　some　that。　　And　then　they　would　turn　and　run　back　again；　making　dancing　movements　round　one　another　and　jostling　one　another。　　The　guns　had　ceased；　and　instead；　it　sounded　as　if　all　the　babies　in　the　world　were　playing　with　their　rattles。　Suddenly　Madame　Lelanne　reappeared　out　of　the　dust；　and　seizing　Joan；　dragged　her　through　a　dark　opening　and　down　a　flight　of　steps；　and　then　left　her。　　She　was　in　a　great　vaulted　cellar。　　A　faint　light　crept　in　through　a　grated　window　at　the　other　end。　There　was　a　long　table　against　the　wall；　and　in　front　of　it　a　bench。　　She　staggered　to　it　and　sat　down；　leaning　against　the　damp　wall。　　The　place　was　very　silent。　　Suddenly　she　began　to　laugh。　She　tried　to　stop　herself；　but　couldn't。　　And　then　she　heard　footsteps　descending；　and　her　memory　came　back　to　her　with　a　rush。　They　were　German　footsteps；　she　felt　sure　by　the　sound：　　they　were　so　slow　and　heavy。　　They　should　not　find　her　in　hysterics；　anyhow。　She　fixed　her　teeth　into　the　wooden　table　in　front　of　her　and　held　on　to　it　with　clenched　hands。　　She　had　recovered　herself　before　the　footsteps　had　finished　their　descent。　　With　a　relief　that　made　it　difficult　for　her　not　to　begin　laughing　again；　she　found　it　was　Madame　Lelanne　and　Monsieur　Dubos。　　They　were　carrying　something　between　them。　　She　hardly　recognized　Dubos　at　first。　　His　beard　was　gone；　and　a　line　of　flaming　scars　had　taken　its　place。　　They　laid　their　burden　on　the　table。　　It　was　one　of　the　wounded　men　from　the　hut。　　They　told　her　they　were　bringing　down　two　more。　　The　hut　itself　had　not　been　hit；　but　the　roof　had　been　torn　off　by　the　force　of　the　explosion；　and　the　others　had　been　killed　by　the　falling　beams。　　Joan　wanted　to　return　with　them；　but　Madame　Lelanne　had　assumed　an　air　of　authority；　and　told　her　she　would　be　more　useful　where　she　was。　　From　the　top　of　the　steps　they　threw　down　bundles　of　straw；　on　which　they　laid　the　wounded　men；　and　Joan　tended　them；　while　Madame　Lelanne　and　the　little　chemist　went　up　and　down　continuously。　　Before　evening　the　place；　considering　all　things；　was　fairly　habitable。　　Madame　Lelanne　brought　down　the　great　stove　from　the　hut；　and　breaking　a　pane　of　glass　in　the　barred　window；　they　fixed　it　up　with　its　chimney　and　lighted　it。　From　time　to　time　the　turmoil　above　them　would　break　out　again：　the　rattling；　and　sometimes　a　dull　rumbling　as　of　rushing　water。　But　only　a　faint　murmur　of　it　penetrated　into　the　cellar。　　Towards　night　it　became　quiet　again。

How　long　Joan　remained　there　she　was　never　quite　sure。　　There　was　little　difference　between　day　and　night。　　After　it　had　been　quiet　for　an　hour　or　so；　Madame　Lelanne　would　go　out；　to　return　a　little　later　with　a　wounded　man　upon　her　back；　and　when　one　died；　she　would　throw　him　across　her　shoulder　and　disappear　again　up　the　steps。　　Sometimes　it　was　a　Frenchman　and　sometimes　a　German　she　brought　in。　　One　gathered　that　the　fight　for　the　village　still　continued。　　There　was　but　little　they　could　do　for　them　beyond　dressing　their　wounds　and　easing　their　pain。　　Joan　and　the　little　chemist　took　it　in　turns　to　relieve　one　another。　　If　Madame　Lelanne　ever　slept；　it　was　when　she　would　sit　in　the　shadow　behind　the　stove；　her　hands　upon　her　knees。　　Dubos　had　been　in　the　house　when　it　had　fallen。　　Madame　Lelanne　had　discovered　him　pinned　against　a　wall　underneath　a　great　oak　beam　that　had　withstood　the　falling　debris。　　His　beard　had　been　burnt　off；　but　otherwise　he　had　been　unharmed。

She　seemed　to　be　living　in　a　dream。　　She　could　not　shake　from　her　the　feeling　that　it　was　not　bodies　but　souls　that　she　was　tending。　The　men　themselves　gave　colour　to　this　fancy　of　hers。　　Stripped　of　their　poor；　stained；　tattered　uniforms；　they　were　neither　French　nor　Germans。　　Friend　or　foe！　it　was　already　but　a　memory。　　Often；　awakening　out　of　a　sleep；　they　would　look　across　at　one　another　and　smile　as　to　a　comrade。　　A　great　peace　seemed　to　have　entered　there。　Faint　murmurs　as　from　some　distant　troubled　world　would　steal　at　times　into　the　silence。　　It　brought　a　pang　of　pity；　but　it　did　not　drive　away　the　quiet　that　dwelt　there。

Once；　someone　who　must　have　known　the　place　and　had　descended　the　steps　softly；　sat　there　among　them　and　talked　with　them。　　Joan　could　not　remember　seeing　him　enter。　　Perhaps　unknowing；　she　had　fallen　to　sleep　for　a　few　minutes。　　Madame　Lelanne　was　seated　by　the　stove；　her　great　coarse　hands　upon　her　knees；　her　patient；　dull；　slow…moving　eyes　fixed　upon　the　speaker's　face。　　Dubos　was　half　standing；　half　resting　against　the　table；　his　arms　folded　upon　his　breast。　　The　wounded　men　had　raised　themselves　upon　the　straw　and　were　listening。　　Some　leant　upon　their　elbows；　some　sat　with　their　hands　clasped　round　their　knees；　and　one；　with　head　bent　down；　remained　with　his　face　hidden　in　his　hands。

The　speaker　sat　a　little　way　apart。　　The　light　from　the　oil　lamp；　suspended　from　the　ceiling；　fell　upon　his　face。　　He　wore　a　peasant's　blouse。　　It　seemed　to　her　a　face　she　knew。　　Possibly　she　had　passed　him　in　the　village　street　and　had　looked　at　him　without　remembering。　　It　was　his　eyes　that　for　long　years　afterwards　still　haunted　her。　　She　did　not　notice　at　the　time　what　language　he　was　speaking。　　But　there　were　none　who　did　not　understand　him。

〃You　think　of　God　as　of　a　great　King；〃　he　said；　〃a　Ruler　who　orders　all　things：　　who　could　change　all　things　in　the　twinkling　of　an　eye。　　You　see　the　cruelty　and　the　wrong　around　you。　　And　you　say　to　yourselves：　　'He　has　ordered　it。　　If　He　would；　He　could　have　willed　it　differently。'　　So　that　in　your　hearts　you　are　angry　with　Him。　How　could　it　be　otherwise？　　What　father；　loving　his　children；　would　see　them　suffer　wrong；　when　by　stretching　out　a　hand　he　could　protect　them：　　turn　their　tears　to　gladness？　　What　father　would　see　his　children　doing　evil　to　one　another　and　not　check　them：　　would　see　them　following　ways　leading　to　their　destruction；　and　not　pluck　them　back？　　If　God　has　ordered　all　things；　why　has　He　created　evil；　making　His　creatures　weak　and　sinful？　　Does　a　father　lay　snares　for　his　children：　　leading　them　into　temptation：　　delivering　them　unto　evil？〃

〃There　is　no　God；　apart　from　Man。〃

〃God　is　a　spirit。　　His　dwelling…place　is　in　man's　heart。　　We　are　His　fellow…labourers。　　It　is　through　man　that　He　shall　one　day　rule　the　world。〃

〃God　is　knocking　at　your　heart；　but　you　will　not　open　to　Him。　　You　have　filled　your　hearts　with　love　of　self。　　There　is　no　room　for　Him　to　enter　in。〃

〃God　whispers　to　you：　　'Be　pitiful。　　Be　merciful。　　Be　just。'　　But　you　answer　Him：　　'If　I　am　pitiful；　I　lose　my　time　and　money。　　If　I　am　merciful；　I　forego　advantage　to　myself。　　If　I　am　just；　I　lessen　my　own　profit；　and　another　passes　me　in　the　race。'〃

〃And　yet　in　your　inmost　thoughts　you　know　that　you　are　wrong：　　that　love　of　self　brings　you　no　peace。　　Who　is　happier　than　the　lover；　thinking　only　how　to　serve？　　Who　is　the　more　joyous：　　he　who　sits　alone　at　the　table；　or　he　who　shares　his　meal　with　a　friend？　　It　is　more　blessed　to　give　than　to　receive。　　How　can　you　doubt　it？　　For　what　do　you　toil　and　strive　but　that　you　may　give　to　your　children；　to　your　loved　ones；　reaping　the　harvest　of　their　good？〃

〃Who　among　you　is　the　more　honoured？　　The　miser　or　the　giver：　　he　who　heaps　up　riches　for　himself　or　he　who　labours　for　others？〃

〃Who　is　the　true　soldier？　　He　who　has　put　away　self。　　His　own　ease　and　comfort；　even　his　own　needs；　his　own　safety：　　they　are　but　as　a　feather　in　the　balance　when　weighed　against　his　love　for　his　comrades；　for　his　country。　　The　true　soldier　is　not　afraid　to　love。　He　gives　his　life　for　his