the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第38节

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counts　of　the　sackings；　fires　and　butcheries　made　him　turn　pale　and　gnash　his　teeth。　　To　him；　to　Marcelo　Desnoyers；　might　happen　the　very　same　thing　that　Belgium　was　enduring；　if　the　barbarians　should　invade　France。　　He　had　a　home　in　the　city；　a　castle　in　the　country；　and　a　family。　　Through　association　of　ideas；　the　women　assaulted　by　the　soldiery；　made　him　think　of　Chichi　and　the　dear　Dona　Luisa。　　The　mansions　in　flames　called　to　his　mind　the　rare　and　costly　furnishings　accumulated　in　his　expensive　dwellingsthe　armorial　bearings　of　his　social　elevation。　　The　old　folk　that　were　shot；　the　women　foully　mutilated；　the　children　with　their　hands　cut　off；　all　the　horrors　of　a　war　of　terror；　aroused　the　violence　of　his　character。

And　such　things　could　happen　with　impunity　in　this　day　and　generation！　。　。　。

In　order　to　convince　himself　that　punishment　was　near；　that　vengeance　was　overtaking　the　guilty　ones；　he　felt　the　necessity　of　mingling　daily　with　the　people　crowding　around　the　Gare　de　l'Est。

Although　the　greater　part　of　the　troops　were　operating　on　the　frontiers；　that　was　not　diminishing　the　activity　in　Paris。　　Entire　battalions　were　no　longer　going　off；　but　day　and　night　soldiers　were　coming　to　the　station　singly　or　in　groups。　　These　were　Reserves　without　uniform　on　their　way　to　enroll　themselves　with　their　companies；　officials　who　until　then　had　been　busy　with　the　work　of　the　mobilization；　platoons　in　arms　destined　to　fill　the　great　gaps　opened　by　death。

The　multitude；　pressed　against　the　railing；　was　greeting　those　who　were　going　off；　following　them　with　their　eyes　while　they　were　crossing　the　large　square。　　The　latest　editions　of　the　daily　papers　were　announced　with　hoarse　yells；　and　instantly　the　dark　throng　would　be　spotted　with　white；　all　reading　with　avidity　the　printed　sheets。　　Good　news：　〃Vive　la　France！〃　　A　doubtful　despatch；　foreshadowing　calamity：　〃No　matter！　　We　must　press　on　at　all　costs！　The　Russians　will　close　in　behind　them！〃　　And　while　these　dialogues；　inspired　by　the　latest　news　were　taking　place；　many　young　girls　were　going　among　the　groups　offering　little　flags　and　tricolored　cockadesand　passing　through　the　patio；　men　and　still　more　men　were　disappearing　behind　the　glass　doors；　on　their　way　to　the　war。

A　sub…lieutenant　of　the　Reserves；　with　his　bag　on　his　shoulder；　was　accompanied　by　his　father　toward　the　file　of　policemen　keeping　the　crowds　back。　　Desnoyers　saw　in　the　young　officer　a　certain　resemblance　to　his　son。　　The　father　was　wearing　in　his　lapel　the　black　and　green　ribbon　of　1870a　decoration　which　always　filled　Desnoyers　with　remorse。　　He　was　tall　and　gaunt；　but　was　still　trying　to　hold　himself　erect；　with　a　heavy　frown。　　He　wanted　to　show　himself　fierce；　inhuman；　in　order　to　hide　his　emotion。

〃Good…bye；　my　boy！　　Do　your　best。〃

〃Good…bye；　father。〃

They　did　not　clasp　hands；　and　each　was　avoiding　looking　at　the　other。　　The　official　was　smiling　like　an　automaton。　　The　father　turned　his　back　brusquely；　and　threading　his　way　through　the　throng；　entered　a　cafe；　where　for　some　time　he　needed　the　most　retired　seat　in　the　darkest　earner　to　hide　his　emotion。

AND　DON　MARCELO　ENVIED　HIS　GRIEF。

Some　of　the　Reservists　came　along　singing；　preceded　by　a　flag。　　They　were　joking　and　jostling　each　other；　betraying　in　excited　actions；　long　halts　at　all　the　taverns　along　the　way。　　One　of　them；　without　interrupting　his　song；　was　pressing　the　hand　of　an　old　woman　marching　beside　him；　cheerful　and　dry…eyed。　　The　mother　was　concentrating　all　her　strength　in　order；　with　feigned　happiness；　to　accompany　this　strapping　lad　to　the　last　minute。

Others　were　coming　along　singly；　separated　from　their　companies；　but　not　on　that　account　alone。　　The　gun　was　hanging　from　the　shoulder；　the　back　overlaid　by　the　hump　of　the　knapsack；　the　red　legs　shooting　in　and　out　of　the　turned…back　folds　of　the　blue　cloak；　and　the　smoke　of　a　pipe　under　the　visor　of　the　kepis。　　In　front　of　one　of　these　men；　four　children　were　walking　along；　lined　up　according　to　size。　They　kept　turning　their　heads　to　admire　their　father；　suddenly　glorified　by　his　military　trappings。　　At　his　side　was　marching　his　wife；　affable　and　resigned；　feeling　in　her　simple　soul　a　revival　of　love；　an　ephemeral　Spring；　born　of　the　contact　with　danger。　　The　man；　a　laborer　of　Paris；　who　a　few　months　before　was　singing　La　Internacional；　demanding　the　abolishment　of　armies　and　the　brotherhood　of　all　mankind；　was　now　going　in　quest　of　death。　　His　wife；　choking　back　her　sobs；　was　admiring　him　greatly。　　Affection　and　commiseration　made　her　insist　upon　giving　him　a　few　last　counsels。　　In　his　knapsack　she　had　put　his　best　handkerchiefs；　the　few　provisions　in　the　house　and　all　the　money。　　Her　man　was　not　to　be　uneasy　about　her　and　the　children；　they　would　get　along　all　right。　　The　government　and　kind　neighbors　would　look　after　them。

The　soldier　in　reply　was　jesting　over　the　somewhat　misshapen　figure　of　his　wife；　saluting　the　coming　citizen；　and　prophesying　that　he　would　be　born　in　a　time　of　great　victory。　　A　kiss　to　the　wife；　an　affectionate　hair…pull　for　his　offspring；　and　then　he　had　joined　his　comrades。　。　。　。　　No　tears。　　Courage！。　。　。　　Vive　la　France！

The　final　injunctions　of　the　departing　were　now　heard。　　Nobody　was　crying。　　But　as　the　last　red　pantaloons　disappeared；　many　hands　grasped　the　iron　railing　convulsively；　many　handkerchiefs　were　bitten　with　gnashing　teeth；　many　faces　were　hidden　in　the　arms　with　sobs　of　anguish。

AND　DON　MARCELO　ENVIED　THESE　TEARS。

The　old　woman；　on　losing　the　warm　contact　of　her　son's　hand　from　her　withered　one；　turned　in　the　direction　which　she　believed　to　be　that　of　the　hostile　country；　waving　her　arms　with　threatening　fury。

〃Ah；　the　assassin！　。　。　。　the　bandit！〃

In　her　wrathful　imagination　she　was　again　seeing　the　countenance　so　often　displayed　in　the　illustrated　pages　of　the　periodicals　moustaches　insolently　aggressive；　a　mouth　with　the　jaw　and　teeth　of　a　wolf；　that　laughed　。　。　。　and　laughed　as　men　must　have　laughed　in　the　time　of　the　cave…men。

AND　DON　MARCELO　ENVIED　THIS　WRATH！



CHAPTER　II

NEW　LIFE


When　Marguerite　was　able　to　return　to　the　studio　in　the　rue　de　la　Pompe；　Julio；　who　had　been　living　in　a　perpetual　bad　humor；　seeing　everything　in　the　blackest　colors；　suddenly　felt　a　return　of　his　old　optimism。

The　war　was　not　going　to　be　so　cruel　as　they　all　had　at　first　imagined。　　The　days　had　passed　by；　and　the　movements　of　the　troops　were　beginning　to　be　less　noticeable。　　As　the　number　of　men　diminished　in　the　streets；　the　feminine　population　seemed　to　have　increased。　　Although　there　was　great　scarcity　of　money；　the　banks　still　remaining　closed；　the　necessity　for　it　was　increasingly　great；　in　order　to　secure　provisions。　　Memories　of　the　famine　of　the　siege　of　'70　tormented　the　imagination。　　Since　war　had　broken　out　with　the　same　enemy；　it　seemed　but　logical　to　everybody　to　expect　a　repetition　of　the　same　happenings。　　The　storehouses　were　besieged　by　women　who　were　securing　stale　food　at　exorbitant　prices　in　order　to　store　it　in　their　homes。　　Future　hunger　was　producing　more　terror　than　immediate　dangers。

For　young　Desnoyers　these　were　about　all　the　transformations　that　war　was　creating　around　him。　　People　would　finally　become　accustomed　to　the　new　existence。　　Humanity　has　a　certain　reserve　force　of　adaptation　which　enables　it　to　mould　itself　to　circumstances　and　continue　existing。　　He　was　hoping　to　continue　his　life　as　though　nothing　had　happened。　　It　was　enough　for　him　that　Marguerite　should　continue　faithful　to　their　past。　　Together　they　would　see　events　slipping　by　them　with　the　cruel　luxuriousness　of　those　who；　from　an　inaccessible　height；　contemplate　a　flood　without　the　slightest　risk　to　themselves。

This　selfish　attitude　had　also　become　habitual　to　Argensola。

〃Let　us　be　neutral；〃　the　Bohemian　would　say。　　〃Neutrality　does　not　necessarily　mean　indifference。　　Let　us　enjoy　the　great　spectacle；　since　nothing　like　it　will　ever　happen　again　in　our　lifetime。〃

It　was　unfortunate　that　war　should　happen　to　come　when　they　had　so　little　money。　　Argensola　was　hating　the　banks　even　more　than　the　Central　Powers；　distinguishing　with　special　antipathy　the　trust　company　which　was　delaying　payment　of　Julio's　check。　　How　lovely　it　would　have　been　with　this　sum　available；　to　have　forestalled　events　by　laying　in　every　class　of　commodity！　　In　order　to　supplement　the　domestic　scrimping；　he　again　had　to　solicit　the　aid　of　Dona　Luisa。　War　had　lessened　Don　Marcelo's　precautions；　and　the　family　was　now　living　in　generous　unconcern。　　The　mother；　like　other　house　mistresses；　had　stored　up　provisions　for　months　and　months　to　come；　buying　whatever　eatables　she　was　able　to　lay　hands　on。　　Argensola　took　advantage　of　this　abundance；　repeating　his　visits　to　the　home　in　the　avenue　Victor　Hugo；　descending　its　service　stairway　with　great　packages　which　were　swelling　the　supplies　in　the　studio。

He　felt　all　the　joys　of　a　good　housekeeper　in　surveying　the　treasures　piled　up　in　the　kitchengreat　tins　of　canned　meat；　pyramids　of　butter　crocks；　and　bags　of　dried　vegetables。　　He　had　accumulated　enough　there　to　maintain　a　large　family。　　The　war　had　now　offered　a　new　pretext　for　him　to　visit　Don　Marcelo's　wine…　vaults。

〃Let　them　c