the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第63节

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The　Frenchman　was　almost　affected。　　This　man　represented　the　Germany　that　he　had　many　times　imagined；　a　sweet　and　tranquil　Germany　composed　of　burghers；　a　little　heavy　and　slow　perhaps；　but　atoning　for　their　natural　uncouthness　by　an　innocent　and　poetic　sentimentalism。　　This　Blumhardt　whom　his　companions　called　Bataillon…Kommandeur；　was　undoubtedly　the　good　father　of　a　large　family。　　He　fancied　him　walking　with　his　wife　and　children　under　the　lindens　of　a　provincial　square；　all　listening　with　religious　unction　to　the　melodies　played　by　a　military　band。　　Then　he　saw　him　in　the　beer　gardens　with　his　friends；　discussing　metaphysical　problems　between　business　conversations。　　He　was　a　man　from　old　Germany；　a　character　from　a　romance　by　Goethe。　　Perhaps　the　glory　of　the　Empire　had　modified　his　existence；　and　instead　of　going　to　the　beer　gardens；　he　was　now　accustomed　to　frequent　the　officers'　casino；　while　his　family　maintained　a　separate　existenceseparated　from　the　civilians　by　the　superciliousness　of　military　caste；　but　at　heart；　he　was　always　the　good　German；　ready　to　weep　copiously　before　an　affecting　family　scene　or　a　fragment　of　good　music。

Commandant　Blumhardt；　meanwhile；　was　thinking　of　his　family　living　in　Cassel。

〃There　are　eight　children；　Monsieur；〃　he　said　with　a　visible　effort　to　control　emotion。　　〃The　two　eldest　are　preparing　to　become　officers。　　The　youngest　is　starting　school　this　year。　。　。　。　　He　is　just　so　high。〃

And　with　his　right　hand　he　measured　off　the　child's　diminutive　stature。　　He　trembled　with　laughter　and　grief　at　recalling　the　little　chap。　　Then　he　broke　forth　into　eulogies　about　his　wife　excellent　manager　of　the　home；　a　mother　who　was　always　modestly　sacrificing　herself　for　her　children　and　husband。　　Ay；　the　sweet　Augusta！　。　。　。　　After　twenty　years　of　married　life；　he　adored　her　as　on　the　day　he　first　saw　her。　　In　a　pocket　of　his　uniform；　he　was　keeping　all　the　letters　that　she　had　written　him　since　the　beginning　of　the　campaign。

〃Look　at　her；　Monsieur。　。　。　。　　There　are　my　children。〃

From　his　breast　pocket；　he　had　drawn　forth　a　silver　medallion；　adorned　with　the　art　of　Munich；　and　touching　a　spring；　he　displayed　the　pictures　of　all　the　familythe　Frau　Kommandeur；　of　an　austere　and　frigid　beauty；　imitating　the　air　and　coiffure　of　the　Empress；　the　Frauleine　Kommandeur；　clad　in　white；　with　uplifted　eyes　as　though　they　were　singing　a　musical　romance；　and　at　the　end；　the　children　in　the　uniforms　of　the　army　schools　or　private　institutions。　　And　to　think　that　he　might　lose　these　beloved　beings　if　a　bit　of　iron　should　hit　him！　。　。　。　　And　he　had　to　live　far　from　them　now　that　it　was　such　fine　weather　for　long　walks　in　the　country！　。　。　。

〃Sad　war！〃　he　again　said。　　〃May　God　punish　the　English！〃

With　a　solicitude　that　Don　Marcelo　greatly　appreciated；　he　in　turn　inquired　about　the　Frenchman's　family。　　He　pitied　him　for　having　so　few　children；　and　smiled　a　little　over　the　enthusiasm　with　which　the　old　gentleman　spoke　of　his　daughter；　saluting　Fraulein　Chichi　as　a　witty　sprite；　and　expressing　great　sympathy　on　learning　that　the　only　son　was　causing　his　parents　great　sorrow　by　his　conduct。

Tender…hearted　Commandant！　。　。　。　　He　was　the　first　rational　and　human　being　that　he　had　met　in　this　hell　of　an　invasion。　　〃There　are　good　people　everywhere；〃　he　told　himself。　　He　hoped　that　this　new　acquaintance　would　not　be　moved　from　the　castle；　for　if　the　Germans　had　to　stay　there；　it　would　better　be　this　man　than　the　others。

An　orderly　came　to　summon　Don　Marcelo　to　the　presence　of　His　Excellency。　　After　passing　through　the　salons　with　closed　eyes　so　as　to　avoid　useless　distress　and　wrath；　he　found　the　Count　in　his　own　bedroom。　　The　doors　had　been　forced　open；　the　floors　stripped　of　carpet　and　the　window　frames　of　curtains。　　Only　the　pieces　of　furniture　broken　in　the　first　moments　now　occupied　their　former　places。　　The　sleeping　rooms　had　been　stripped　more　methodically；　everything　having　been　taken　that　was　not　required　for　immediate　use。　　Because　the　General　with　his　suite　had　been　lodging　there　the　night　before；　this　apartment　had　escaped　the　arbitrary　destruction。

The　Count　received　him　with　the　civility　of　a　grandee　who　wishes　to　be　attentive　to　his　guests。　　He　could　not　consent　that　HERR　Desnoyersa　relative　of　a　von　Hartrottwhom　he　vaguely　remembered　having　seen　at　Court；　should　be　staying　in　the　Keeper's　lodge。　　He　must　return　to　his　own　room；　occupying　that　bed；　solemn　as　a　catafalque　with　columns　and　plumes；　which　had　had　the　honor；　a　few　hours　before；　of　serving　as　the　resting…place　of　an　illustrious　General　of　the　Empire。

〃I　myself　prefer　to　sleep　here；〃　he　added　condescendingly。　　〃This　other　habitation　accords　better　with　my　tastes。〃

While　saying　this；　he　was　entering　Dona　Luisa's　rooms；　admiring　its　Louis　Quinze　furniture　of　genuine　value；　with　its　dull　golds　and　tapestries　mellowed　by　time。　　It　was　one　of　the　most　successful　purchases　that　Don　Marcelo　had　made。　　The　Count　smiled　with　an　artist's　scorn　as　he　recalled　the　man　who　had　superintended　the　official　sacking。

〃What　an　ass！　。　。　。　　To　think　that　he　left　this　behind；　supposing　that　it　was　old　and　ugly！〃

Then　he　looked　the　owner　of　the　castle　squarely　in　the　face。

〃Monsieur　Desnoyers；　I　do　not　believe　that　I　am　committing　any　indiscretion；　and　even　imagine　that　I　am　interpreting　your　desires　when　I　inform　you　that　I　intend　taking　this　set　of　furniture　with　me。　　It　will　serve　as　a　souvenir　of　our　acquaintance；　a　testimony　to　the　friendship　springing　up　between　us。　。　。　。　　If　it　remains　here；　it　will　run　the　risk　of　being　destroyed。　　Warriors；　of　course；　are　not　obliged　to　be　artists。　　I　will　guard　these　excellent　treasures　in　Germany　where　you　may　see　them　whenever　you　wish。　　We　are　all　going　to　be　one　nation；　you　know。　。　。　。　　My　friend；　the　Emperor；　is　soon　to　be　proclaimed　sovereign　of　the　French。〃

Desnoyers　remained　silent。　　How　could　he　reply　to　that　look　of　cruel　irony；　to　the　grimace　with　which　the　noble　lord　was　underscoring　his　words？　。　。　。

〃When　the　war　is　ended；　I　will　send　you　a　gift　from　Berlin；〃　he　added　in　a　patronizing　tone。

The　old　collector　could　say　nothing　to　that；　either。　　He　was　looking　at　the　vacant　spots　which　many　small　pictures　had　left　on　the　walls；　paintings　by　famous　masters　of　the　XVIII　century。　　The　banded　brigand　must　also　have　passed　these　by　as　too　insignificant　to　carry　off；　but　the　smirk　illuminating　the　Count's　face　revealed　their　ultimate　destination。

He　had　carefully　scrutinized　the　entire　apartmentthe　adjoining　bedroom；　Chichi's；　the　bathroom；　even　the　feminine　robe…room　of　the　family；　which　still　contained　some　of　the　daughter's　gowns。　　The　warrior　fondled　with　delight　the　fine　silky　folds　of　the　materials；　gloating　over　their　cool　softness。

This　contact　made　him　think　of　Paris；　of　the　fashions；　of　the　establishments　of　the　great　modistes。　　The　rue　de　la　Paix　was　the　spot　which　he　most　admired　in　his　visits　to　the　enemy's　city。

Don　Marcelo　noticed　the　strong　mixture　of　perfumes　which　came　from　his　hair；　his　moustache；　his　entire　body。　　Various　little　jars　from　the　dressing　table　were　on　the　mantel。

〃What　a　filthy　thing　war　is！〃　exclaimed　the　German。　　〃This　morning　I　was　at　last　able　to　take　a　bath　after　a　week's　abstinence；　at　noon　I　shall　take　another。　　By　the　way；　my　dear　sir；　these　perfumes　are　good；　but　they　are　not　elegant。　　When　I　have　the　pleasure　of　being　presented　to　the　ladies；　I　shall　give　them　the　addresses　of　my　source　of　supply。　。　。　。　　I　use　in　my　home　essences　from　Turkey。　　I　have　many　friends　there。　。　。　。　　At　the　close　of　the　war；　I　will　send　a　consignment　to　the　family。〃

While　speaking　the　Count's　eyes　had　been　fixed　upon　some　photographs　upon　the　table。　　Examining　the　portrait　of　Madame　Desnoyers；　he　guessed　that　she　must　be　Dona　Luisa。　　He　smiled　before　the　bewitchingly　mischievous　face　of　Mademoiselle　Chichi。　　Very　enchanting；　he　specially　admired　her　militant；　boyish　expression；　but　he　scrutinized　the　photograph　of　Julio　with　special　interest。

〃Splendid　type　of　youth；〃　he　murmured。　　〃An　interesting　head；　and　artistic；　too。　　He　would　create　a　great　sensation　in　a　fancy…dress　ball。　　What　a　Persian　prince　he　would　make！　。　。　。　　A　white　aigrette　on　his　head；　fastened　with　a　great　jewel；　the　breast　bared；　a　black　tunic　with　golden　birds。　。　。　。〃

And　he　continued　seeing　in　his　mind's　eye　the　heir　of　the　Desnoyers　arrayed　in　all　the　gorgeous　raiment　of　an　Oriental　monarch。　　The　proud　father；　because　of　the　interest　which　his　son　was　inspiring；　began　to　feel　a　glimmer　of　sympathy　with　the　man。　　A　pity　that　he　should　select　so　unerringly　and　appropriate　the　choicest　things　in　the　castle！

Near　the　head　of　the　bed；　Don　Marcelo　saw　lying　upon　a　book　of　devotions　forgotten　by　his　wife；　a　medallion　containing　another　photograph。　　It　did　not　belong　to　his　family；　and　the　Count；　following　the　direction　of　his　eyes；　wished　to　show　it　to　him。　　The　hands　of　this　son　of　Mars　trembled。　。　。　。　　His　disdainful　haughtiness　had　suddenly　disappeared。　　An　official　of　the　Hussars　of　Death　was　smiling　from　the　case；　his　sharp　profile　with　a　beak　curved　like　a　bird　of　prey；　was　surmounted　by　a　cap　adorned　with　skull　and　cross…bones。

〃My　best　friend；〃　said　the　Count　in　tr