the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第39节

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。　　The　war　had　now　offered　a　new　pretext　for　him　to　visit　Don　Marcelo's　wine…　vaults。

〃Let　them　come！〃　he　would　say　with　a　heroic　gesture　as　he　took　stock　of　his　treasure　trove。　　〃Let　them　come　when　they　will！　　We　are　ready　for　them！〃

The　care　and　increase　of　his　provisions；　and　the　investigation　of　news　were　the　two　functions　of　his　existence。　　It　seemed　necessary　to　procure　ten；　twelve；　fifteen　papers　a　day；　some　because　they　were　reactionary；　and　the　novelty　of　seeing　all　the　French　united　filled　him　with　enthusiasm；　others　because　they　were　radical　and　must　be　better　informed　of　the　news　received　from　the　government。　　They　generally　appeared　at　midday；　at　three；　at　four　and　at　five　in　the　afternoon。　　An　half　hour's　delay　in　the　publication　of　the　sheet　raised　great　hopes　in　the　public；　on　the　qui　vive　for　stupendous　news。　　All　the　last　supplements　were　snatched　up；　everybody　had　his　pockets　stuffed　with　papers；　waiting　anxiously　the　issue　of　extras　in　order　to　buy　them；　too。　　Yet　all　the　sheets　were　saying　approximately　the　same　thing。

Argensola　was　developing　a　credulous；　enthusiastic　soul；　capable　of　admitting　many　improbable　things。　　He　presumed　that　this　same　spirit　was　probably　animating　everybody　around　him。　　At　times；　his　old　critical　attitude　would　threaten　to　rebel；　but　doubt　was　repulsed　as　something　dishonorable。　　He　was　living　in　a　new　world；　and　it　was　but　natural　that　extraordinary　things　should　occur　that　could　be　neither　measured　nor　explained　by　the　old　processes　of　reasoning。　So　he　commented　with　infantile　joy　on　the　marvellous　accounts　in　the　daily　papersof　combats　between　a　single　Belgian　platoon　and　entire　regiments　of　enemies；　putting　them　to　disorderly　flight；　of　the　German　fear　of　the　bayonet　that　made　them　run　like　hares　the　instant　that　the　charge　sounded；　of　the　inefficiency　of　the　German　artillery　whose　projectiles　always　missed　fire。

It　was　logical　and　natural　that　little　Belgium　should　conquer　gigantic　Germanya　repetition　of　David　and　Goliathwith　all　the　metaphors　and　images　that　this　unequal　contest　had　inspired　across　so　many　centuries。　　Like　the　greater　part　of　the　nation；　he　had　the　mentality　of　a　reader　of　tales　of　chivalry　who　feels　himself　defrauded　if　the　hero；　single…handed；　fails　to　cleave　a　thousand　enemies　with　one　fell　stroke。　　He　purposely　chose　the　most　sensational　papers；　those　which　published　many　stories　of　single　encounters；　of　individual　deeds　about　which　nobody　could　know　with　any　degree　of　certainty。

The　intervention　of　England　on　the　seas　made　him　imagine　a　frightful　famine；　coming　providentially　like　a　thunder…clap　to　torture　the　enemy。　　He　honestly　believed　that　ten　days　of　this　maritime　blockade　would　convert　Germany　into　a　group　of　shipwrecked　sailors　floating　on　a　raft。　　This　vision　made　him　repeat　his　visits　to　the　kitchen　to　gloat　over　his　packages　of　provisions。

〃Ah；　what　they　would　give　in　Berlin　for　my　treasures！〃　。　。　。

Never　had　Argensola　eaten　with　greater　avidity。　　Consideration　of　the　great　privations　suffered　by　the　adversary　was　sharpening　his　appetite　to　a　monstrous　capacity。　　White　bread；　golden　brown　and　crusty；　was　stimulating　him　to　an　almost　religious　ecstasy。

〃If　friend　William　could　only　get　his　claws　on　this！〃　he　would　chuckle　to　his　companion。

So　he　chewed　and　swallowed　with　increasing　relish；　solids　and　liquids　on　passing　through　his　mouth　seemed　to　be　acquiring　a　new　flavor；　rare　and　divine。　　Distant　hunger　for　him　was　a　stimulant；　a　sauce　of　endless　delight。

While　France　was　inspiring　his　enthusiasm；　he　was　conceding　greater　credit　to　Russia。　　〃Ah；　those　Cossacks！〃　。　。　。　　He　was　accustomed　to　speak　of　them　as　intimate　friends。　　He　loved　to　describe　the　unbridled　gallop　of　the　wild　horsemen；　impalpable　as　phantoms；　and　so　terrible　in　their　wrath　that　the　enemy　could　not　look　them　in　the　face。　　The　concierge　and　the　stay…at…homes　used　to　listen　to　him　with　all　the　respect　due　to　a　foreign　gentleman；　knowing　much　of　the　great　outside　world　with　which　they　were　not　familiar。

〃The　Cossacks　will　adjust　the　accounts　of　these　bandits！〃　he　would　conclude　with　absolute　assurance。　　〃Within　a　month　they　will　have　entered　Berlin。〃

And　his　public　composed　of　womenwives　and　mothers　of　those　who　had　gone　to　warwould　modestly　agree　with　him；　with　that　irresistible　desire　which　we　all　feel　of　placing　our　hopes　on　something　distant　and　mysterious。　　The　French　would　defend　the　country；　reconquering；　besides　the　lost　territories；　but　the　Cossacksof　whom　so　many　were　speaking　but　so　few　had　seenwere　going　to　give　the　death　blow。　The　only　person　who　knew　them　at　first　hand　was　Tchernoff；　and　to　Argensola's　astonishment；　he　listened　to　his　words　without　showing　any　enthusiasm。　　The　Cossacks　were　for　him　simply　one　body　of　the　Russian　armygood　enough　soldiers；　but　incapable　of　working　the　miracles　that　everybody　was　expecting　from　them。

〃That　Tchernoff！〃　exclaimed　Argensola。　　〃Since　he　hates　the　Czar；　he　thinks　the　entire　country　mad。　　He　is　a　revolutionary　fanatic。　。　。　。　And　I　am　opposed　to　all　fanaticisms。〃

Julio　was　listening　absent…mindedly　to　the　news　brought　by　his　companion；　the　vibrating　statements　recited　in　declamatory　tones；　the　plans　of　the　campaign　traced　out　on　an　enormous　map　fastened　to　the　wall　of　the　studio　and　bristling　with　tiny　flags　that　marked　the　camps　of　the　belligerent　armies。　　Every　issue　of　the　papers　obliged　the　Spaniard　to　arrange　a　new　dance　of　the　pins　on　the　map；　followed　by　his　comments　of　bomb…proof　optimism。

〃We　have　entered　into　Alsace；　very　good！　。　。　。　　It　appears　now　that　we　abandon　Alsace。　　Splendid！　　I　suspect　the　cause。　　It　is　in　order　to　enter　again　in　a　better　place；　getting　at　the　enemy　from　behind。　。　。　。　　They　say　that　Liege　has　fallen。　　What　a　lie！　。　。　。　And　if　it　does　fall；　it　doesn't　matter。　　Just　an　incident；　nothing　more！　　The　others　remain　。　。　。　the　others！　。　。　。　that　are　advancing　on　the　Eastern　side；　and　are　going　to　enter　Berlin。〃

The　news　from　the　Russian　front　was　his　favorite；　but　obliged　him　to　remain　in　suspense　every　time　that　he　tried　to　find　on　the　map　the　obscure　names　of　the　places　where　the　admired　Cossacks　were　exhibiting　their　wonderful　exploits。

Meanwhile　Julio　was　continuing　the　course　of　his　own　reflections。　Marguerite！　。　。　。　　She　had　come　back　at　last；　and　yet　each　time　seemed　to　be　drifting　further　away　from　him。　。　。　。

In　the　first　days　of　the　mobilization；　he　had　haunted　her　neighborhood；　trying　to　appease　his　longing　by　this　illusory　proximity。　　Marguerite　had　written　to　him；　urging　patience。　　How　fortunate　it　was　that　he　was　a　foreigner　and　would　not　have　to　endure　the　hardship　of　war！　　Her　brother；　an　officer　in　the　artillery　Reserves；　was　going　at　almost　any　minute。　　Her　mother；　who　made　her　home　with　this　bachelor　son；　had　kept　an　astonishing　serenity　up　to　the　last　minute；　although　she　had　wept　much　while　the　war　was　still　but　a　possibility。　　She　herself　had　prepared　the　soldier's　outfit　so　that　the　small　valise　might　contain　all　that　was　indispensable　for　campaign　life。　　But　Marguerite　had　divined　her　poor　mother's　secret　struggles　not　to　reveal　her　despair；　in　moist　eyes　and　trembling　hands。　　It　was　impossible　to　leave　her　alone　at　such　a　time。　。　。　。　　Then　had　come　the　farewell。　　〃God　be　with　you；　my　son！　　Do　your　duty；　but　be　prudent。〃　　Not　a　tear　nor　a　sign　of　weakness。　　All　her　family　had　advised　her　not　to　accompany　her　son　to　the　railway　station；　so　his　sister　had　gone　with　him。　　And　upon　returning　home；　Marguerite　had　found　her　mother　rigid　in　her　arm　chair；　with　a　set　face；　avoiding　all　mention　of　her　son；　speaking　of　the　friends　who　also　had　sent　their　boys　to　the　war；　as　if　they　only　could　comprehend　her　torture。　　〃Poor　Mama！　　I　ought　to　be　with　her　now　more　than　ever。　。　。　。　　To…morrow；　if　I　can；　I　shall　come　to　see　you。〃

When　at　last　she　returned　to　the　rue　de　la　Pompe；　her　first　care　was　to　explain　to　Julio　the　conservatism　of　her　tailored　suit；　the　absence　of　jewels　in　the　adornment　of　her　person。　　〃The　war；　my　dear！　　Now　it　is　the　chic　thing　to　adapt　oneself　to　the　depressing　conditions；　to　be　frugal　and　inconspicuous　like　soldiers。　　Who　knows　what　we　may　expect！〃　　Her　infatuation　with　dress　still　accompanied　her　in　every　moment　of　her　life。

Julio　noticed　a　persistent　absent…mindedness　about　her。　　It　seemed　as　though　her　spirit；　abandoning　her　body；　was　wandering　to　far…away　places。　　Her　eyes　were　looking　at　him；　but　she　seldom　saw　him。　　She　would　speak　very　slowly；　as　though　wishing　to　weigh　every　word；　fearful　of　betraying　some　secret。　　This　spiritual　alienation　did　not；　however；　prevent　her　slipping　bodily　along　the　smooth　path　of　custom；　although　afterwards　she　would　seem　to　feel　a　vague　remorse。　〃I　wonder　if　it　is　right　to　do　this！　。　。　。　　Is　it　not　wrong　to　live　like　this　when　so　many　sorrows　are　falling　on　the　world？〃　　Julio　hushed　her　scruples　with：

〃But　if　we　are　going　to　marry　as　soon　as　possible！　。　。　。　　If　we　are　already　the　same　as　husband　and　wife！〃

She　replied　with　a　gesture　of　strangeness　and　dismay。　　To　marry！　。　。　。　　Ten　days　ago　she　had　had　no　other　wish。　　Now　the　possibility　of　marriage　was　recurring　less　and　less　in　her　thoughts。　Why　think　about　such　remote　and　uncertain　events？　　More　immediate　things　w