the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第71节

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ed。　　The　lower　extremities；　in　their　grayish　leggings　remained　on　the　ground；　inanimate　as　reddening；　empty　moulds。　　The　trunk；　in　its　violent　ascent；　spread　its　contents　abroad　like　a　bursting　rocket。　　Further　on；　some　gunners；　standing　upright；　were　suddenly　stretched　full　length；　converted　into　a　motionless　row；　bathed　in　blood。

The　line　of　infantry　was　lying　close　to　the　ground。　　The　men　had　huddled　themselves　together　near　the　loopholes　through　which　they　aimed　their　guns；　trying　to　make　themselves　less　visible。　　Many　had　placed　their　knapsacks　over　their　heads　or　at　their　backs　to　defend　themselves　from　the　flying　bits　of　shell。　　If　they　moved　at　all；　it　was　only　to　worm　their　way　further　into　the　earth；　trying　to　hollow　it　out　with　their　stomachs。　　Many　of　them　had　changed　position　with　mysterious　rapidity；　now　lying　stretched　on　their　backs　as　though　asleep。　　One　had　his　uniform　torn　open　across　the　abdomen；　showing　between　the　rents　of　the　cloth；　slabs　of　flesh；　blue　and　red　that　protruded　and　swelled　up　with　a　bubbling　expansion。　　Another　had　his　legs　shot　away；　and　was　looking　around　with　surprised　eyes　and　a　black　mouth　rounded　into　an　effort　to　howl；　but　from　which　no　sound　ever　came。

Desnoyers　had　lost　all　notion　of　time。　　He　could　not　tell　whether　he　had　been　rooted　to　that　spot　for　many　hours　or　for　a　single　moment。　The　only　thing　that　caused　him　anxiety　was　the　persistent　trembling　of　his　legs　which　were　refusing　to　sustain　him。　。　。　。

Something　fell　behind　him。　　It　was　raining　ruin。　　Turning　his　head；　he　saw　his　castle　completely　transformed。　　Half　of　the　tower　had　just　been　carried　off。　　The　pieces　of　slate　were　scattered　everywhere　in　tiny　chips；　the　walls　were　crumbling；　loose　window　frames　were　balancing　on　edge　like　fragments　of　stage　scenery；　and　the　old　wood　of　the　tower　hood　was　beginning　to　burn　like　a　torch。

The　spectacle　of　this　instantaneous　change　in　his　property　impressed　him　more　than　the　ravages　of　death；　making　him　realize　the　Cyclopean　power　of　the　blind；　avenging　forces　raging　around　him。　　The　vital　force　that　had　been　concentrated　in　his　eyes；　now　spread　to　his　feet　。　。　。　and　he　started　to　run　without　knowing　whither；　feeling　the　same　necessity　to　hide　himself　as　had　those　men　enchained　by　discipline　who　were　trying　to　flatten　themselves　into　the　earth　in　imitation　of　the　reptile's　pliant　invisibility。

His　instinct　was　pushing　him　toward　the　lodge；　but　half　way　up　the　avenue；　he　was　stopped　by　another　lot　of　astounding　transformations。　An　unseen　hand　had　just　snatched　away　half　of　the　cottage　roof。　　The　entire　side　wall　doubled　over；　forming　a　cascade　of　bricks　and　dust。　The　interior　rooms　were　now　exposed　to　view　like　a　theatrical　settingthe　kitchen　where　he　had　eaten；　the　upper　floor　with　the　room　in　which　he　descried　his　still　unmade　bed。　　The　poor　women！　。　。　。

He　turned　around；　running　now　toward　the　castle；　trying　to　make　the　sub…cellar　in　which　he　had　been　fastened　for　the　night；　and　when　he　finally　found　himself　under　those　dusty　cobwebs；　he　felt　as　though　he　were　in　the　most　luxurious　salon；　and　he　devoutly　blessed　the　good　workmanship　of　the　castle　builders。

The　subterranean　silence　began　gradually　to　bring　back　his　sense　of　hearing。　　The　cannonading　of　the　Germans　and　the　bursting　of　the　French　shells　sounded　from　his　retreat　like　a　distant　tempest。　There　came　into　his　mind　the　eulogies　which　he　had　been　accustomed　to　lavish　upon　the　cannon　of　'75　without　knowing　anything　about　it　except　by　hearsay。　　Now　he　had　witnessed　its　effects。　　〃It　shoots　TOO　well！〃　he　muttered。　　In　a　short　time　it　would　finish　destroying　his　castlehe　was　finding　such　perfection　excessive。

But　he　soon　repented　of　these　selfish　lamentations。　　An　idea；　tenacious　as　remorse；　had　fastened　itself　in　his　brain。　　It　now　seemed　to　him　that　all　he　was　passing　through　was　an　expiation　for　the　great　mistake　of　his　youth。　　He　had　evaded　the　service　of　his　country；　and　now　he　was　enveloped　in　all　the　horrors　of　war；　with　the　humiliation　of　a　passive　and　defenseless　being；　without　any　of　the　soldier's　satisfaction　of　being　able　to　return　the　blows。　　He　was　going　to　diehe　was　sure　of　thatbut　a　shameful　death；　unknown　and　inglorious。　　The　ruins　of　his　mansion　were　going　to　become　his　sepulchre。　。　。　。　　And　the　certainty　of　dying　there　in　the　darkness；　like　a　rat　that　sees　the　openings　of　his　hole　being　closed　up；　made　this　refuge　intolerable。

Above　him　the　tornado　was　still　raging。　　A　peal　like　thunder　boomed　above　his　head；　and　then　came　the　crash　of　a　landslide。　　Another　projectile　must　have　fallen　upon　the　building。　　He　heard　shrieks　of　agony；　yells　and　precipitous　steps　on　the　floor　above　him。　　Perhaps　the　shell；　in　its　blind　fury；　had　blown　to　pieces　many　of　the　dying　in　the　salons。

Fearing　to　remain　buried　in　his　retreat；　he　bounded　up　the　cellar　stairs　two　steps　at　a　time。　　As　he　scudded　across　the　first　floor；　he　saw　the　sky　through　the　shattered　roofs。　　Along　the　edges　were　hanging　sections　of　wood；　fragments　of　swinging　tile　and　furniture　stopped　halfway　in　its　flight。　　Crossing　the　hall；　he　had　to　clamber　over　much　rubbish。　　He　stumbled　over　broken　and　twisted　iron；　parts　of　beds　rained　from　the　upper　rooms　into　the　mountain　of　debris　in　which　he　saw　convulsed　limbs　and　heard　anguished　voices　that　he　could　not　understand。

He　leaped　as　he　ran；　feeling　the　same　longing　for　light　and　free　air　as　those　who　rush　from　the　hold　to　the　deck　of　a　shipwreck。　　While　sheltered　in　the　darkness　more　time　had　elapsed　than　he　had　supposed。　　The　sun　was　now　very　high。　　He　saw　in　the　garden　more　corpses　in　tragic　and　grotesque　postures。　　The　wounded　were　doubled　over　with　pain　or　lying　on　the　ground　or　propping　themselves　against　the　trees　in　painful　silence。　　Some　had　opened　their　knapsacks　and　drawn　out　their　sanitary　kits　and　were　trying　to　care　for　their　cuts。　　The　infantry　was　now　firing　incessantly。　　The　number　of　riflemen　had　increased。　　New　bands　of　soldiers　were　entering　the　parksome　with　a　sergeant　at　their　head；　others　followed　by　an　officer　carrying　a　revolver　at　his　breast　as　though　guiding　his　men　with　it。　　This　must　be　the　infantry　expelled　from　their　position　near　the　river　which　had　come　to　reinforce　the　second　line　of　defense。　The　mitrailleuses　were　adding　their　tac…tac　to　the　cracks　of　the　fusileers。

The　hum　of　the　invisible　swarms　was　buzzing　incessantly。　　Thousands　of　sticky　horse…flies　were　droning　around　Desnoyers　without　his　even　seeing　them。　　The　bark　of　the　trees　was　being　stripped　by　unseen　hands；　the　leaves　were　falling　in　torrents；　the　boughs　were　shaken　by　opposing　forces；　the　stones　on　the　ground　were　being　crushed　by　a　mysterious　foot。　　All　inanimate　objects　seemed　to　have　acquired　a　fantastic　life。　　The　zinc　spoons　of　the　soldiers；　the　metallic　parts　of　their　outfit；　the　pails　of　the　artillery　were　all　clanking　as　though　in　an　imperceptible　hailstorm。　　He　saw　a　cannon　lying　on　its　side　with　the　wheels　broken　and　turned　over　among　many　men　who　appeared　asleep；　he　saw　soldiers　who　stretched　themselves　out　without　a　contraction；　without　a　sound；　as　though　overcome　by　sudden　drowsiness。　　Others　were　howling　and　dragging　themselves　forward　in　a　sitting　position。

The　old　man　felt　an　extreme　sensation　of　heat。　　The　pungent　perfume　of　explosive　drugs　brought　the　tears　to　his　eyes　and　clawed　at　his　throat。　　At　the　same　time　he　was　chilly　and　felt　his　forehead　freezing　in　a　glacial　sweat。

He　had　to　leave　the　bridge。　　Several　soldiers　were　passing　bearing　the　wounded　to　the　edifice　in　spite　of　the　fact　that　it　was　falling　in　ruins。　　Suddenly　he　was　sprinkled　from　head　to　foot；　as　if　the　earth　had　opened　to　make　way　for　a　waterspout。　　A　shell　had　fallen　into　the　moat；　throwing　up　an　enormous　column　of　water；　making　the　carp　sleeping　in　the　mud　fly　into　fragments；　breaking　a　part　of　the　edges　and　grinding　to　powder　the　white　balustrades　with　their　great　urns　of　flowers。

He　started　to　run　on　with　the　blindness　of　terror；　when　he　suddenly　saw　before　him　the　same　little　round　crystal；　examining　him　coolly。　It　was　the　Junker；　the　officer　of　the　monocle。　。　。　。　　With　the　end　of　his　revolver；　the　German　pointed　to　two　pails　a　short　distance　away；　ordering　Desnoyers　to　fill　them　from　the　lagoon　and　give　the　water　to　the　men　overcome　by　the　sun。　　Although　the　imperious　tone　admitted　of　no　reply；　Don　Marcelo　tried；　nevertheless；　to　resist。　He　received　a　blow　from　the　revolver　on　his　chest　at　the　same　time　that　the　lieutenant　slapped　him　in　the　face。　　The　old　man　doubled　over；　longing　to　weep；　longing　to　perish；　but　no　tears　came；　nor　did　life　escape　from　his　body　under　this　affront；　as　he　wished。　。　。　。　With　the　two　buckets　in　his　hands；　he　found　himself　dipping　up　water　from　the　canal；　carrying　it　the　length　of　the　file；　giving　it　to　men　who；　each　in　his　turn；　dropped　his　gun　to　gulp　the　liquid　with　the　avidity　of　panting　beasts。

He　was　no　longer　afraid　of　the　shrill　shrieks　of　invisible　bodies。　His　one　great　longing　was　to　die。　　He　was　strongly　convinced　that　he　was　going　to　die；　his　sufferings　were　too　great；　there　was　no　longer　any　place　in　the　world　for　him。

He　had　to　pass　by　breaches　opened　in　the　wall　by　the　bursting　shells。　　There　was　no　natural　object　to　arrest　the　eye　looki