the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第53节

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ers　immediately　took　the　short　cut　between　Pau　and　Lourdes。

He　had　never　visited　the　sacred　city　whose　name　was　so　frequently　on　his　mother's　lips。　　For　Dona　Luisa；　the　French　nation　was　Lourdes。　In　her　discussions　with　her　sister　and　other　foreign　ladies　who　were　praying　that　France　might　be　exterminated　for　its　impiety；　the　good　senora　always　summed　up　her　opinions　in　the　same　words：〃When　the　Virgin　wished　to　make　her　appearance　in　our　day；　she　chose　France。　This　country；　therefore；　cannot　be　as　bad　as　you　say。　。　。　。　　When　I　see　that　she　appears　in　Berlin；　we　will　then　re…discuss　the　matter。〃

But　Desnoyers　was　not　there　to　confirm　his　mother's　artless　opinions。　　Just　as　soon　as　he　had　found　a　room　in　a　hotel　near　the　river；　he　had　hastened　to　the　big　hostelry；　now　converted　into　a　hospital。　　The　guard　told　him　that　he　could　not　speak　to　the　Director　until　the　afternoon。　　In　order　to　curb　his　impatience　he　walked　through　the　street　leading　to　the　basilica；　past　all　the　booths　and　shops　with　pictures　and　pious　souvenirs　which　have　converted　the　place　into　a　big　bazaar。　　Here　and　in　the　gardens　adjoining　the　church；　he　saw　wounded　convalescents　with　uniforms　stained　with　traces　of　the　combat。　　Their　cloaks　were　greatly　soiled　in　spite　of　repeated　brushings。　　The　mud；　the　blood　and　the　rain　had　left　indelible　spots　and　made　them　as　stiff　as　cardboard。　　Some　of　the　wounded　had　cut　their　sleeves　in　order　to　avoid　the　cruel　friction　on　their　shattered　arms；　others　still　showed　on　their　trousers　the　rents　made　by　the　devastating　shells。

They　were　fighters　of　all　ranks　and　of　many　racesinfantry；　cavalry；　artillerymen；　soldiers　from　the　metropolis　and　from　the　colonies；　French　farmers　and　African　sharpshooters；　red　heads；　faces　of　Mohammedan　olive　and　the　black　countenances　of　the　Sengalese；　with　eyes　of　fire；　and　thick；　bluish　blubber　lips；　some　showing　the　good…nature　and　sedentary　obesity　of　the　middle…class　man　suddenly　converted　into　a　warrior；　others　sinewy；　alert；　with　the　aggressive　profile　of　men　born　to　fight；　and　experienced　in　foreign　fields。

The　city；　formerly　visited　by　the　hopeful；　Catholic　sick；　was　now　invaded　by　a　crowd　no　less　dolorous　but　clad　in　carnival　colors。　All；　in　spite　of　their　physical　distress；　had　a　certain　air　of　good　cheer　and　satisfaction。　　They　had　seen　Death　very　near；　slipping　out　from　his　bony　claws　into　a　new　joy　and　zest　in　life。　　With　their　cloaks　adorned　with　medals；　their　theatrical　Moorish　garments；　their　kepis　and　their　African　headdresses；　this　heroic　band　presented；　nevertheless；　a　lamentable　aspect。

Very　few　still　preserved　the　noble　vertical　carriage；　the　pride　of　the　superior　human　being。　　They　were　walking　along　bent　almost　double；　limping；　dragging　themselves　forward　by　the　help　of　a　staff　or　friendly　arm。　　Others　had　to　let　themselves　be　pushed　along；　stretched　out　on　the　hand…carts　which　had　so　often　conducted　the　devout　sick　from　the　station　to　the　Grotto　of　the　Virgin。　　Some　were　feeling　their　way　along；　blindly；　leaning　on　a　child　or　nurse。　　The　first　encounters　in　Belgium　and　in　the　East；　a　mere　half…dozen　battles；　had　been　enough　to　produce　these　physical　wrecks　still　showing　a　manly　nobility　in　spite　of　the　most　horrible　outrages。　These　organisms；　struggling　so　tenaciously　to　regain　their　hold　on　life；　bringing　their　reviving　energies　out　into　the　sunlight；　represented　but　the　most　minute　part　of　the　number　mowed　down　by　the　scythe　of　Death。　　Back　of　them　were　thousands　and　thousands　of　comrades　groaning　on　hospital　beds　from　which　they　would　probably　never　rise。　　Thousands　and　thousands　were　hidden　forever　in　the　bosom　of　the　Earth　moistened　by　their　death　agonyfatal　land　which；　upon　receiving　a　hail　of　projectiles；　brought　forth　a　harvest　of　bristling　crosses！

War　now　showed　itself　to　Desnoyers　with　all　its　cruel　hideousness。　He　had　been　accustomed　to　speak　of　it　heretofore　as　those　in　robust　health　speak　of　death；　knowing　that　it　exists　and　is　horrible；　but　seeing　it　afar　off　。　。　。　so　far　off　that　it　arouses　no　real　emotion。　The　explosion　of　the　shells　were　accompanying　their　destructive　brutality　with　a　ferocious　mockery；　grotesquely　disfiguring　the　human　body。　　He　saw　wounded　objects　just　beginning　to　recover　their　vital　force　who　were　but　rough　skeletons　of　men；　frightful　caricatures；　human　rags；　saved　from　the　tomb　by　the　audacities　of　sciencetrunks　with　heads　which　were　dragged　along　on　wheeled　platforms；　fragments　of　skulls　whose　brains　were　throbbing　under　an　artificial　cap；　beings　without　arms　and　without　legs；　resting　in　the　bottom　of　little　wagons；　like　bits　of　plaster　models　or　scraps　from　the　dissecting　room；　faces　without　noses　that　looked　like　skulls　with　great；　black　nasal　openings。　　And　these　half…men　were　talking；　smoking；　laughing；　satisfied　to　see　the　sky；　to　feel　the　caress　of　the　sun；　to　have　come　back　to　life；　dominated　by　that　sovereign　desire　to　live　which　trustingly　forgets　present　misery　in　the　confident　hope　of　something　better。

So　strongly　was　Julio　impressed　that　for　a　little　while　he　forgot　the　purpose　which　had　brought　him　thither。　。　。　。　　If　those　who　provoke　war　from　diplomatic　chambers　or　from　the　tables　of　the　Military　Staff　could　but　see　itnot　in　the　field　of　battle　fired　with　the　enthusiasm　which　prejudices　judgmentsbut　in　cold　blood；　as　it　is　seen　in　the　hospitals　and　cemeteries；　in　the　wrecks　left　in　its　trail！　。　。　。

To　Julio's　imagination　this　terrestrial　globe　appeared　like　an　enormous　ship　sailing　through　infinity。　　Its　crewspoor　humanity　had　spent　century　after　century　in　exterminating　each　other　on　the　deck。　　They　did　not　even　know　what　existed　under　their　feet；　in　the　hold　of　the　vessel。　　To　occupy　the　same　portion　of　the　surface　in　the　sunlight　seemed　to　be　the　ruling　desire　of　each　group。　　Men；　considered　superior　human　beings；　were　pushing　these　masses　to　extermination　in　order　to　scale　the　last　bridge　and　hold　the　helm；　controlling　the　course　of　the　boat。　　And　all　those　who　felt　the　overmastering　ambition　for　absolute　command　knew　the　same　thing　。　。　。　nothing。　　Not　one　of　them　could　say　with　certainty　what　lay　beyond　the　visible　horizon；　nor　whither　the　ship　was　drifting。　　The　sullen　hostility　of　mystery　surrounded　them　all；　their　life　was　precarious；　necessitating　incessant　care　in　order　to　maintain　it；　yet　in　spite　of　that；　the　crew　for　ages　and　ages；　had　never　known　an　instant　of　agreement；　of　team　work；　of　clear　reason。　　Periodically　half　of　them　would　clash　with　the　other　half。　　They　killed　each　other　that　they　might　enslave　the　vanquished　on　the　rolling　deck　floating　over　the　abyss；　they　fought　that　they　might　cast　their　victims　from　the　vessel；　filling　its　wake　with　cadavers。　　And　from　the　demented　throng　there　were　still　springing　up　gloomy　sophistries　to　prove　that　a　state　of　war　was　the　perfect　state；　that　it　ought　to　go　on　forever；　that　it　was　a　bad　dream　on　the　part　of　the　crew　to　wish　to　regard　each　other　as　brothers　with　a　common　destiny；　enveloped　in　the　same　unsteady　environment　of　mystery。　。　。　。　　Ah；　human　misery！

Julio　was　drawn　out　of　these　pessimistic　reflections　by　the　childish　glee　which　many　of　the　convalescents　were　evincing。　　Some　were　Mussulmans；　sharpshooters　from　Algeria　and　Morocco。　　In　Lourdes；　as　they　might　be　anywhere；　they　were　interested　only　in　the　gifts　which　the　people　were　showering　upon　them　with　patriotic　affection。　　They　all　surveyed　with　indifference　the　basilica　inhabited　by　〃the　white　lady；〃　their　only　preoccupation　being　to　beg　for　cigars　and　sweets。

Finding　themselves　regaled　by　the　dominant　race；　they　became　greatly　puffed　up；　daring　everything　like　mischievous　children。　　What　pleased　them　most　was　the　fact　that　the　ladies　would　take　them　by　the　hand。　　Blessed　war　that　permitted　them　to　approach　and　touch　these　white　women；　perfumed　and　smiling　as　they　appeared　in　their　dreams　of　the　paradise　of　the　blest！　　〃Lady　。　。　。　Lady；〃　they　would　sigh；　looking　at　them　with　dark；　sparkling　eyes。　　And　not　content　with　the　hand；　their　dark　paws　would　venture　the　length　of　the　entire　arm　while　the　ladies　laughed　at　this　tremulous　adoration。　Others　would　go　through　the　crowds；　offering　their　right　hand　to　all　the　women。　　〃We　touch　hands。〃　。　。　。　　And　then　they　would　go　away　satisfied　after　receiving　the　hand　clasp。

Desnoyers　wandered　a　long　time　around　the　basilica　where；　in　the　shadow　of　the　trees；　were　long　rows　of　wheeled　chairs　occupied　by　the　wounded。　　Officers　and　soldiers　rested　many　hours　in　the　blue　shade；　watching　their　comrades　who　were　able　to　use　their　legs。　　The　sacred　grotto　was　resplendent　with　the　lights　from　hundreds　of　candles。　　Devout　crowds　were　kneeling　in　the　open　air；　fixing　their　eyes　in　supplication　on　the　sacred　stones　whilst　their　thoughts　were　flying　far　away　to　the　fields　of　battle；　making　their　petitions　with　that　confidence　in　divinity　which　accompanies　every　distress。　　Among　the　kneeling　mass　were　many　soldiers　with　bandaged　heads；　kepis　in　hand　and　tearful　eyes。

Up　and　down　the　double　staircase　of　the　basilica　were　flitting　women；　clad　in　white；　with　spotless　headdresses　that　fluttered　in　such　a　way　that　they　appeared　like　flying　doves。　　These　were　the　nurses　and　Sisters　of　Charity　guiding　the　steps　of　the　injured。　Desnoyers　thought　he　re