the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第1节

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The　Four　Horsemen　of　the　Apocalypse

by　Vicente　Blasco　Ibanez

Translated　by　Charlotte　Brewster　Jordan




CONTENTS

PART　I

I。　THE　TRYSTIN　THE　GARDEN　OF　THE　EXPIATORY　CHAPEL　II。　MADARIAGA；　THE　CENTAUR　III。　THE　DESNOYERS　FAMILY　IV。　THE　COUSIN　FROM　BERLIN　V。　IN　WHICH　APPEAR　THE　FOUR　HORSEMEN


PART　II

I。　WHAT　DON　MARCELO　ENVIED　II。　NEW　LIFE　III。　THE　RETREAT　IV。　NEAR　THE　SACRED　GROTTO　V。　THE　INVASION　VI。　THE　BANNER　OF　THE　RED　CROSS


PART　III

I。　AFTER　THE　MARNE　II。　IN　THE　STUDIO　IV。　〃NO　ONE　WILL　KILL　HIM〃　V。　THE　BURIAL　FIELDS




PART　I



CHAPTER　I

THE　TRYST


（In　the　Garden　of　the　Chapelle　Expiatoire）


They　were　to　have　met　in　the　garden　of　the　Chapelle　Expiatoire　at　five　o'clock　in　the　afternoon；　but　Julio　Desnoyers　with　the　impatience　of　a　lover　who　hopes　to　advance　the　moment　of　meeting　by　presenting　himself　before　the　appointed　time；　arrived　an　half　hour　earlier。　　The　change　of　the　seasons　was　at　this　time　greatly　confused　in　his　mind；　and　evidently　demanded　some　readjustment。

Five　months　had　passed　since　their　last　interview　in　this　square　had　afforded　the　wandering　lovers　the　refuge　of　a　damp；　depressing　calmness　near　a　boulevard　of　continual　movement　close　to　a　great　railroad　station。　　The　hour　of　the　appointment　was　always　five　and　Julio　was　accustomed　to　see　his　beloved　approaching　by　the　reflection　of　the　recently　lit　street　lamps；　her　figure　enveloped　in　furs；　and　holding　her　muff　before　her　face　as　if　it　were　a　half…　mask。　　Her　sweet　voice；　greeting　him；　had　breathed　forth　a　cloud　of　vapor；　white　and　tenuous；　congealed　by　the　cold。　　After　various　hesitating　interviews；　they　had　abandoned　the　garden。　　Their　love　had　acquired　the　majestic　importance　of　acknowledged　fact；　and　from　five　to　seven　had　taken　refuge　in　the　fifth　floor　of　the　rue　de　la　Pompe　where　Julio　had　an　artist's　studio。　　The　curtains　well　drawn　over　the　double　glass　windows；　the　cosy　hearth…fire　sending　forth　its　ruddy　flame　as　the　only　light　of　the　room；　the　monotonous　song　of　the　samovar　bubbling　near　the　cups　of　teaall　the　seclusion　of　life　isolated　by　an　idolizing　lovehad　dulled　their　perceptions　to　the　fact　that　the　afternoons　were　growing　longer；　that　outside　the　sun　was　shining　later　and　later　into　the　pearl…covered　depths　of　the　clouds；　and　that　a　timid　and　pallid　Spring　was　beginning　to　show　its　green　finger　tips　in　the　buds　of　the　branches　suffering　the　last　nips　of　Winterthat　wild；　black　boar　who　so　often　turned　on　his　tracks。

Then　Julio　had　made　his　trip　to　Buenos　Aires；　encountering　in　the　other　hemisphere　the　last　smile　of　Autumn　and　the　first　icy　winds　from　the　pampas。　　And　just　as　his　mind　was　becoming　reconciled　to　the　fact　that　for　him　Winter　was　an　eternal　seasonsince　it　always　came　to　meet　him　in　his　change　of　domicile　from　one　extreme　of　the　planet　to　the　otherlo；　Summer　was　unexpectedly　confronting　him　in　this　dreary　garden！

A　swarm　of　children　was　racing　and　screaming　through　the　short　avenues　around　the　monument。　　On　entering　the　place；　the　first　thing　that　Julio　encountered　was　a　hoop　which　came　rolling　toward　his　legs；　trundled　by　a　childish　hand。　　Then　he　stumbled　over　a　ball。　Around　the　chestnut　trees　was　gathering　the　usual　warm…weather　crowd；　seeking　the　blue　shade　perforated　with　points　of　light。　　Many　nurse…maids　from　the　neighboring　houses　were　working　and　chattering　here；　following　with　indifferent　glances　the　rough　games　of　the　children　confided　to　their　care。　　Near　them　were　the　men　who　had　brought　their　papers　down　into　the　garden　under　the　impression　that　they　could　read　them　in　the　midst　of　peaceful　groves。　　All　of　the　benches　were　full。　　A　few　women　were　occupying　camp　stools　with　that　feeling　of　superiority　which　ownership　always　confers。　　The　iron　chairs；　〃pay…seats；〃　were　serving　as　resting　places　for　various　suburban　dames；　loaded　down　with　packages；　who　were　waiting　for　straggling　members　of　their　families　in　order　to　take　the　train　in　the　Gare　Saint　Lazare。　。　。　。

And　Julio；　in　his　special　delivery　letter；　had　proposed　meeting　in　this　place；　supposing　that　it　would　be　as　little　frequented　as　in　former　times。　　She；　too；　with　the　same　thoughtlessness；　had　in　her　reply；　set　the　usual　hour　of　five　o'clock；　believing　that　after　passing　a　few　minutes　in　the　Printemps　or　the　Galeries　on　the　pretext　of　shopping；　she　would　be　able　to　slip　over　to　the　unfrequented　garden　without　risk　of　being　seen　by　any　of　her　numerous　acquaintances。

Desnoyers　was　enjoying　an　almost　forgotten　sensation；　that　of　strolling　through　vast　spaces；　crushing　as　he　walked　the　grains　of　sand　under　his　feet。　　For　the　past　twenty　days　his　rovings　had　been　upon　planks；　following　with　the　automatic　precision　of　a　riding　school　the　oval　promenade　on　the　deck　of　a　ship。　　His　feet　accustomed　to　insecure　ground；　still　were　keeping　on　terra　firma　a　certain　sensation　of　elastic　unsteadiness。　　His　goings　and　comings　were　not　awakening　the　curiosity　of　the　people　seated　in　the　open；　for　a　common　preoccupation　seemed　to　be　monopolizing　all　the　men　and　women。　　The　groups　were　exchanging　impressions。　　Those　who　happened　to　have　a　paper　in　their　hands；　saw　their　neighbors　approaching　them　with　a　smile　of　interrogation。　　There　had　suddenly　disappeared　that　distrust　and　suspicion　which　impels　the　inhabitants　of　large　cities　mutually　to　ignore　one　another；　taking　each　other's　measure　at　a　glance　as　though　they　were　enemies。

〃They　are　talking　about　the　war；〃　said　Desnoyers　to　himself。　　〃At　this　time；　all　Paris　speaks　of　nothing　but　the　possibility　of　war。〃

Outside　of　the　garden　he　could　see　also　the　same　anxiety　which　was　making　those　around　him　so　fraternal　and　sociable。　　The　venders　of　newspapers　were　passing　through　the　boulevard　crying　the　evening　editions；　their　furious　speed　repeatedly　slackened　by　the　eager　hands　of　the　passers…by　contending　for　the　papers。　　Every　reader　was　instantly　surrounded　by　a　group　begging　for　news　or　trying　to　decipher　over　his　shoulder　the　great　headlines　at　the　top　of　the　sheet。　　In　the　rue　des　Mathurins；　on　the　other　side　of　the　square；　a　circle　of　workmen　under　the　awning　of　a　tavern　were　listening　to　the　comments　of　a　friend　who　accompanied　his　words　with　oratorical　gestures　and　wavings　of　the　paper。　　The　traffic　in　the　streets；　the　general　bustle　of　the　city　was　the　same　as　in　other　days；　but　it　seemed　to　Julio　that　the　vehicles　were　whirling　past　more　rapidly；　that　there　was　a　feverish　agitation　in　the　air　and　that　people　were　speaking　and　smiling　in　a　different　way。　　The　women　of　the　garden　were　looking　even　at　him　as　if　they　had　seen　him　in　former　days。　　He　was　able　to　approach　them　and　begin　a　conversation　without　experiencing　the　slightest　strangeness。

〃They　are　talking　of　the　war；〃　he　said　again　but　with　the　commiseration　of　a　superior　intelligence　which　foresees　the　future　and　feels　above　the　impressions　of　the　vulgar　crowd。

He　knew　exactly　what　course　he　was　going　to　follow。　　He　had　disembarked　at　ten　o'clock　the　night　before；　and　as　it　was　not　yet　twenty…four　hours　since　he　had　touched　land；　his　mentality　was　still　that　of　a　man　who　comes　from　afar；　across　oceanic　immensities；　from　boundless　horizons；　and　is　surprised　at　finding　himself　in　touch　with　the　preoccupations　which　govern　human　communities。　　After　disembarking　he　had　spent　two　hours　in　a　cafe　in　Boulogne；　listlessly　watching　the　middle…class　families　who　passed　their　time　in　the　monotonous　placidity　of　a　life　without　dangers。　　Then　the　special　train　for　the　passengers　from　South　America　had　brought　him　to　Paris；　leaving　him　at　four　in　the　morning　on　a　platform　of　the　Gare　du　Nord　in　the　embrace　of　Pepe　Argensola；　the　young　Spaniard　whom　he　sometimes　called　〃my　secretary〃　or　〃my　valet〃　because　it　was　difficult　to　define　exactly　the　relationship　between　them。　　In　reality；　he　was　a　mixture　of　friend　and　parasite；　the　poor　comrade；　complacent　and　capable　in　his　companionship　with　a　rich　youth　on　bad　terms　with　his　family；　sharing　with　him　the　ups　and　downs　of　fortune；　picking　up　the　crumbs　of　prosperous　days；　or　inventing　expedients　to　keep　up　appearances　in　the　hours　of　poverty。

〃What　about　the　war？〃　Argensola　had　asked　him　before　inquiring　about　the　result　of　his　trip。　　〃You　have　come　a　long　ways　and　should　know　much。〃

Soon　he　was　sound　asleep　in　his　dear　old　bed　while　his　〃secretary〃　was　pacing　up　and　down　the　studio　talking　of　Servia；　Russia　and　the　Kaiser。　　This　youth；　too；　skeptical　as　he　generally　was　about　everything　not　connected　with　his　own　interests；　appeared　infected　by　the　general　excitement。

When　Desnoyers　awoke　he　found　her　note　awaiting　him；　setting　their　meeting　at　five　that　afternoon　and　also　containing　a　few　words　about　the　threatened　danger　which　was　claiming　the　attention　of　all　Paris。　Upon　going　out　in　search　of　lunch　the　concierge；　on　the　pretext　of　welcoming　him　back；　had　asked　him　the　war　news。　　And　in　the　restaurant；　the　cafe　and　the　street；　always　war　。　。　。　the　possibility　of　war　with　Germany。　。　。　。

Julio　was　an　optimist。　　What　did　all　this　restlessness　signify　to　a　man　who　had　just　been　living　more　than　twenty　days　among　Germans；　crossing　the　Atlantic　under　the　flag　of　the　Empire？

He　had　sailed　from　Buenos　Aires　in　a　steamer　of　the　Hamburg　line；　the　Koeni