the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第48节

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As　the　iron…willed　old　gentleman　approached　his　castle　he　concluded　that；　although　the　fatigue　of　the　long　walk　was　making　his　knees　tremble；　the　trip　had　been　well　worth　while。　　Never　had　his　park　appeared　to　him　so　extensive　and　so　majestic　as　in　that　summer　twilight；　never　so　glistening　white　the　swans　that　were　gliding　double　over　the　quiet　waters；　never　so　imposing　the　great　group　of　towers　whose　inverted　images　were　repeated　in　the　glassy　green　of　the　moats。　　He　felt　eager　to　see　at　once　the　stables　with　their　herds　of　animals；　then　a　brief　glance　showed　him　that　the　stalls　were　comparatively　empty。　　Mobilization　had　carried　off　his　best　work　horses；　the　driving　and　riding　horses　also　had　disappeared。　Those　in　charge　of　the　grounds　and　the　various　stable　boys　were　also　in　the　army。　　The　Warden；　a　man　upwards　of　fifty　and　consumptive；　was　the　only　one　of　the　personnel　left　at　the　castle。　　With　his　wife　and　daughter　he　was　keeping　the　mangers　filled；　and　from　time　to　time　was　milking　the　neglected　cows。

Within　the　noble　edifice　he　again　congratulated　himself　on　the　adamantine　will　which　had　brought　him　thither。　　How　could　he　ever　give　up　such　riches！　。　。　。　　He　gloated　over　the　paintings；　the　crystals；　the　draperies；　all　bathed　in　gold　by　the　splendor　of　the　dying　day；　and　he　felt　more　than　proud　to　be　their　possessor。　　This　pride　awakened　in　him　an　absurd；　impossible　courage；　as　though　he　were　a　gigantic　being　from　another　planet；　and　all　humanity　merely　an　ant　hill　that　he　could　grind　under　foot。　　Just　let　the　enemy　come！　　He　could　hold　his　own　against　the　whole　lot！　。　。　。　　Then；　when　his　common　sense　brought　him　out　of　his　heroic　delirium；　he　tried　to　calm　himself　with　an　equally　illogical　optimism。　　They　would　not　come。　　He　did　not　know　why　it　was；　but　his　heart　told　him　that　they　would　not　get　that　far。

He　passed　the　following　morning　reconnoitering　the　artificial　meadows　that　he　had　made　behind　the　park；　lamenting　their　neglected　condition　due　to　the　departure　of　the　men；　trying　himself　to　open　the　sluice　gates　so　as　to　give　some　water　to　the　pasture　lands　which　were　beginning　to　dry　up。　　The　grape　vines　were　extending　their　branches　the　length　of　their　supports；　and　the　full　bunches；　nearly　ripe；　were　beginning　to　show　their　triangular　lusciousness　among　the　leaves。　　Ay；　who　would　gather　this　abundant　fruit！　。　。　。

By　afternoon　he　noted　an　extraordinary　amount　of　movement　in　the　village。　　Georgette；　the　Warden's　daughter；　brought　the　news　that　many　enormous　automobiles　and　soldiers；　French　soldiers；　were　beginning　to　pass　through　the　main　street。　　In　a　little　while　a　procession　began　filing　past　on　the　high　road　near　the　castle；　leading　to　the　bridge　over　the　Marne。　　This　was　composed　of　motor　trucks；　open　and　closed；　that　still　had　their　old　commercial　signs　under　their　covering　of　dust　and　spots　of　mud。　　Many　of　them　displayed　the　names　of　business　firms　in　Paris；　others　the　names　of　provincial　establishments。　　With　these　industrial　vehicles　requisitioned　by　mobilization　were　others　from　the　public　service　which　produced　in　Desnoyers　the　same　effect　as　a　familiar　face　in　a　throng　of　strangers。　　On　their　upper　parts　were　the　names　of　their　old　routes：〃Madeleine…Bastille；　Passy…Bourne；〃　etc。　　Probably　he　had　travelled　many　times　in　these　very　vehicles；　now　shabby　and　aged　by　twenty　days　of　intense　activity；　with　dented　planks　and　twisted　metal；　perforated　like　sieves；　but　rattling　crazily　on。

Some　of　the　conveyances　displayed　white　discs　with　a　red　cross　in　the　center；　others　had　certain　letters　and　figures　comprehensible　only　to　those　initiates　in　the　secrets　of　military　administration。　Within　these　vehiclesthe　only　new　and　strong　motorshe　saw　soldiers；　many　soldiers；　but　all　wounded；　with　head　and　legs　bandaged；　ashy　faces　made　still　more　tragic　by　their　growing　beards；　feverish　eyes　looking　fixedly　ahead；　mouths　so　sadly　immobile　that　they　seemed　carven　by　agonizing　groans。　　Doctors　and　nurses　were　occupying　various　carriages　in　this　convoy　escorted　by　several　platoons　of　horsemen。　　And　mingled　with　the　slowly　moving　horses　and　automobiles　were　marching　groups　of　foot…soldiers；　with　cloaks　unbuttoned　or　hanging　from　their　shoulders　like　capeswounded　men　who　were　able　to　walk　and　joke　and　sing；　some　with　arms　in　splints　across　their　breasts；　others　with　bandaged　heads　with　clotted　blood　showing　through　the　thin　white　strips。

The　millionaire　longed　to　do　something　for　these　brave　fellows；　but　he　had　hardly　begun　to　distribute　some　bottles　of　wine　and　loaves　of　bread　before　a　doctor　interposed；　upbraiding　him　as　though　he　had　committed　a　crime。　　His　gifts　might　result　fatally。　　So　he　had　to　stand　beside　the　road；　sad　and　helpless；　looking　after　the　sorrowful　convoy。　。　。　。　　By　nightfall　the　vehicles　filled　with　the　sick　were　no　longer　filing　by。

He　now　saw　hundreds　of　drays；　some　hermetically　sealed　with　the　prudence　that　explosive　material　requires；　others　with　bundles　and　boxes　that　were　sending　out　a　stale　odor　of　provisions。　　Then　came　great　herds　of　cattle　raising　thick；　whirling　clouds　of　dust　in　the　narrow　parts　of　the　road；　prodded　on　by　the　sticks　and　yells　of　the　shepherds　in　kepis。

His　thoughts　kept　him　wakeful　all　night。　　This；　then；　was　the　retreat　of　which　the　people　of　Paris　were　talking；　but　in　which　many　wished　not　to　believethe　retreat　reaching　even　there　and　continuing　its　indefinite　retirement；　since　nobody　knew　what　its　end　might　be。　。　。　。　　His　optimism　aroused　a　ridiculous　hope。　　Perhaps　this　was　only　the　retreat　of　the　hospitals　and　stores　which　always　follows　an　army。　　The　troops；　wishing　to　be　rid　of　impedimenta；　were　sending　them　forward　by　railway　and　highway。　　That　must　be　it。　　So　all　through　the　night；　he　interpreted　the　incessant　bustle　as　the　passing　of　vehicles　filled　with　the　wounded；　with　munitions　and　eatables；　like　those　which　had　filed　by　in　the　afternoon。

Toward　morning　he　fell　asleep　through　sheer　weariness；　and　when　he　awoke　late　in　the　day　his　first　glance　was　toward　the　road。　　He　saw　it　filled　with　men　and　horses　dragging　some　rolling　objects。　　But　these　men　were　carrying　guns　and　were　formed　in　battalions　and　regiments。　　The　animals　were　pulling　the　pieces　of　artillery。　　It　was　an　army。　。　。　。　　It　was　the　retreat！

Desnoyers　ran　to　the　edge　of　the　road　to　be　more　convinced　of　the　truth。

Alas；　they　were　regiments　such　as　he　had　seen　leaving　the　stations　of　Paris。　。　。　。　　But　with　what　a　very　different　aspect！　　The　blue　cloaks　were　now　ragged　and　yellowing　garments；　the　trousers　faded　to　the　color　of　a　half…baked　brick；　the　shoes　great　cakes　of　mud。　　The　faces　had　a　desperate　expression；　with　layers　of　dust　and　sweat　in　all　their　grooves　and　openings；　with　beards　of　recent　growth；　sharp　as　spikes；　with　an　air　of　great　weariness　showing　the　longing　to　drop　down　somewhere　forever；　killing　or　dying；　but　without　going　a　step　further。　　They　were　tramping　。　。　。　tramping　。　。　。　tramping！　Some　marches　had　lasted　thirty　hours　at　a　stretch。　　The　enemy　was　on　their　tracks；　and　the　order　was　to　go　on　and　not　to　fight；　freeing　themselves　by　their　fleet…footedness　from　the　involved　movements　of　the　invader。

The　chiefs　suspected　the　discouraged　exhaustion　of　their　men。　　They　might　exact　of　them　complete　sacrifice　of　lifebut　to　order　them　to　march　day　and　night；　forever　fleeing　before　the　enemy　when　they　did　not　consider　themselves　vanquished；　when　they　were　animated　by　that　ferocious　wrath　which　is　the　mother　of　heroism！　。　。　。　　Their　despairing　expressions　mutely　sought　the　nearest　officers；　the

leaders；　even　the　colonel。　　They　simply　could　go　no　further！　　Such　a　long；　devastating　march　in　such　a　few　days；　and　what　for？　。　。　。　　The　superior　officers；　who　knew　no　more　than　their　men；　seemed　to　be　replying　with　their　eyes；　as　though　they　possessed　a　secret　〃Courage！　　One　more　effort！　。　。　。　　This　is　going　to　come　to　an　end　very　soon。〃

The　vigorous　beasts；　having　no　imagination；　were　resisting　less　than　the　men；　but　their　aspect　was　deplorable。　　How　could　these　be　the　same　strong　horses　with　glossy　coats　that　he　had　seen　in　the　Paris　processions　at　the　beginning　of　the　previous　month？　　A　campaign　of　twenty　days　had　aged　and　exhausted　them；　their　dull　gaze　seemed　to　be　imploring　pity。　　They　were　weak　and　emaciated；　the　outline　of　their　skeletons　so　plainly　apparent　that　it　made　their　eyes　look　larger。　　Their　harness；　as　they　moved；　showed　the　skin　raw　and　bleeding。　　Yet　they　were　pushing　on　with　a　mighty　effort；　concentrating　their　last　powers；　as　though　human　demands　were　beyond　their　obscure　instincts。　　Some　could　go　no　further　and　suddenly　collapsed　from　sheer　fatigue。　　Desnoyers　noticed　that　the　artillerymen　rapidly　unharnessed　them；　pushing　them　out　of　the　road　so　as　to　leave　the　way　open　for　the　rest。　　There　lay　the　skeleton…　like　frames　with　stiffened　legs　and　glassy　eyes　staring　fixedly　at　the　first　flies　already　attracted　by　their　miserable　carrion。

The　cannons　painted　gray；　the　gun…carriages；　the　artillery　equipment；　all　that　Don　Marcelo　had　seen　clean　and　shining　with　the　enthusiastic　friction　that　man　has　given　to　arms　from　remote　epochs　even　more　persistent　than　that　which　woman　gives　to　household　utensilswere　now　dirty；　overlaid　with　the　marks　of　endless　use