the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第91节

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yielding　obstructions；　projectiles　which　had　sunk　into　the　ground　intact。　　The　rustic　had　dug　up　these　instruments　of　death　which　occasionally　had　exploded　their　delayed　charge　in　his　hands。

But　the　man　of　the　soil　knows　no　fear　when　in　search　of　sustenance；　and　so　was　doggedly　continuing　his　rectilinear　advance；　swerving　only　before　the　visible　tombs；　there　the　furrows　had　curved　mercifully；　making　little　islands　of　the　mounds　surmounted　by　crosses　and　flags。　　The　seeds　of　future　bread　were　preparing　to　extend　their　tentacles　like　devil　fish　among　those　who；　but　a　short　time　before；　were　animated　by　such　monstrous　ambition。　　Life　was　about　to　renew　itself　once　more。

The　automobile　came　to　a　standstill。　　The　guide　was　running　about　among　the　crosses；　stooping　over　in　order　to　examine　their　weather…　stained　inscriptions。

〃Here　we　are！〃

He　had　found　above　one　grave　the　number　of　the　regiment。

Chichi　and　her　husband　promptly　dismounted　again。　　Then　Dona　Luisa；　with　sad　resolution；　biting　her　lips　to　keep　the　tears　back。　　Then　the　three　devoted　themselves　to　assisting　the　father　who　had　thrown　off　his　fur　lap…robe。　　Poor　Desnoyers！　　On　touching　the　ground；　he　swayed　back　and　forth；　moving　forward　with　the　greatest　effort；　lifting　his　feet　with　difficulty；　and　sinking　his　staff　in　the　hollows。

〃Lean　on　me；　my　poor　dear；〃　said　the　old　wife；　offering　her　arm。

The　masterful　head　of　the　family　could　no　longer　take　a　single　step　without　their　aid。

Then　began　their　slow；　painful　pilgrimage　among　the　graves。

The　guide　was　still　exploring　the　spot　bristling　with　crosses；　spelling　out　the　names；　and　hesitating　before　the　faded　lettering。　Rene　was　doing　the　same　on　the　other　side　of　the　road。　　Chichi　went　on　alone；　the　wind　whirling　her　black　veil　around　her；　and　making　the　little　curls　escape　from　under　her　mourning　hat　every　time　she　leaned　over　to　decipher　a　name。　　Her　daintily　shod　feet　sunk　deep　into　the　ruts；　and　she　had　to　gather　her　skirts　about　her　in　order　to　move　more　comfortablyrevealing　thus　at　every　step　evidences　of　the　joy　of　living；　of　hidden　beauty；　of　consummated　love　following　her　course　through　this　land　of　death　and　desolation。

In　the　distance　sounded　feebly　her　father's　voice：

〃Not　yet？〃

The　two　elders　were　growing　impatient；　anxious　to　find　their　son's　resting　place　as　soon　as　possible。

A　half　hour　thus　dragged　by　without　any　resultalways　unfamiliar　names；　anonymous　crosses　or　the　numbers　of　other　regiments。　　Don　Marcelo　was　no　longer　able　to　stand。　　Their　passage　across　the　irregularities　of　the　soft　earth　had　been　torment　for　him。　　He　was　beginning　to　despair。　。　。　。　　Ay；　they　would　never　find　Julio's　remains！　　The　parents；　too；　had　been　scrutinizing　the　plots　nearest　them；　bending　sadly　before　cross　after　cross。　　They　stopped　before　a　long；　narrow　hillock；　and　read　the　name。　。　。　。　　No；　he　was　not　there；　either；　and　they　continued　desperately　along　the　painful　path　of　alternate　hopes　and　disappointments。

It　was　Chichi　who　notified　them　with　a　cry；　〃Here。　。　。　。　　Here　it　is！〃　　The　old　folks　tried　to　run；　almost　falling　at　every　step。　　All　the　family　were　soon　grouped　around　a　heap　of　earth　in　the　vague　outline　of　a　bier；　and　beginning　to　be　covered　with　herbage。　　At　the　head　was　a　cross　with　letters　cut　in　deep　with　the　point　of　a　knife；　the　kind　deed　of　some　of　his　comrades…at…arms〃DESNOYERS。〃　。　。　。　Then　in　military　abbreviations；　the　rank；　regiment　and　company。

A　long　silence。　　Dona　Luisa　had　knelt　instantly；　with　her　eyes　fixed　on　the　crossthose　great；　bloodshot　eyes　that　could　no　longer　weep。　Till　then；　tears　had　been　constantly　in　her　eyes；　but　now　they　deserted　her　as　though　overcome　by　the　immensity　of　a　grief　incapable　of　expressing　itself　in　the　usual　ways。

The　father　was　staring　at　the　rustic　grave　in　dumb　amazement。　　His　son　was　there；　there　forever！　。　。　。　and　he　would　never　see　him　again！　　He　imagined　him　sleeping　unshrouded　below；　in　direct　contact　with　the　earth；　just　as　Death　had　surprised　him　in　his　miserable　and　heroic　old　uniform。　　He　recalled　the　exquisite　care　which　the　lad　had　always　given　his　bodythe　long　bath；　the　massage；　the　invigorating　exercise　of　boxing　and　fencing；　the　cold　shower；　the　elegant　and　subtle　perfume　。　。　。　all　that　he　might　come　to　this！　。　。　。　that　he　might　be　interred　just　where　he　had　fallen　in　his　tracks；　like　a　wornout　beast　of　burden！

The　bereaved　father　wished　to　transfer　his　son　immediately　from　the　official　burial　fields；　but　he　could　not　do　it　yet。　　As　soon　as　possible　it　should　be　done；　and　he　would　erect　for　him　a　mausoleum　fit　for　a　king。　。　。　。　　And　what　good　would　that　do？　　He　would　merely　be　changing　the　location　of　a　mass　of　bones；　but　his　body；　his　physical　semblanceall　that　had　contributed　to　the　charm　of　his　personality　would　be　mixed　with　the　earth。　　The　son　of　the　rich　Desnoyers　would　have　become　an　inseparable　part　of　a　poor　field　in　Champagne。　　Ah；　the　pity　of　it　all！　　And　for　this；　had　he　worked　so　hard　and　so　long　to　accumulate　his　millions？　。　。　。

He　could　never　know　how　Julio's　death　had　happened。　　Nobody　could　tell　him　his　last　words。　　He　was　ignorant　as　to　whether　his　end　had　been　instantaneous；　overwhelminghis　idol　going　out　of　the　world　with　his　usual　gay　smile　on　his　lips；　or　whether　he　had　endured　long　hours　of　agony　abandoned　in　the　field；　writhing　like　a　reptile　or　passing　through　phases　of　hellish　torment　before　collapsing　in　merciful　oblivion。　　He　was　also　ignorant　of　just　how　much　was　beneath　this　moundwhether　an　entire　body　discreetly　touched　by　the　hand　of　Death；　or　an　assemblage　of　shapeless　remnants　from　the　devastating　hurricane　of　steel！　。　。　。　　And　he　would　never　see　him　again！　　And　that　Julio　who　had　been　filling　his　thoughts　would　become　simply　a　memory；　a　name　that　would　live　while　his　parents　lived；　fading　away；　little　by　little；　after　they　had　disappeared！　。　。　。

He　was　startled　to　hear　a　moan；　a　sob。　。　。　。　　Then　he　recognized　dully　that　they　were　his　own；　that　he　had　been　accompanying　his　reflections　with　groans　of　grief。

His　wife　was　still　at　his　feet；　kneeling；　alone　with　her　heartbreak；　fixing　her　dry　eyes　on　the　cross　with　a　gaze　of　hypnotic　tenacity。　。　。　。　　There　was　her　son　near　her　knees；　lying　stretched　out　as　she　had　so　often　watched　him　when　sleeping　in　his　cradle！　。　。　。　　The　father's　sobs　were　wringing　her　heart；　too；　but　with　an　unbearable　depression；　without　his　wrathful　exasperation。　　And　she　would　never　see　him　again！　。　。　。　　Could　it　be　possible！　。　。　。

Chichi's　presence　interrupted　the　despairing　thoughts　of　her　parents。　　She　had　run　to　the　automobile；　and　was　returning　with　an　armful　of　flowers。　　She　hung　a　wreath　on　the　cross　and　placed　a　great　spray　of　blossoms　at　the　foot。　　Then　she　scattered　a　shower　of　petals　over　the　entire　surface　of　the　grave；　sadly；　intensely；　as　though　performing　a　religious　rite；　accompanying　the　offering　with　her　outspoken　thoughts〃For　you　who　so　loved　life　for　its　beauties　and　pleasures！　。　。　。　for　you　who　knew　so　well　how　to　make　yourself　beloved！〃　。　。　。　　And　as　her　tears　fell；　her　affectionate　memories　were　as　full　of　admiration　as　of　grief。　　Had　she　not　been　his　sister；　she　would　have　liked　to　have　been　his　beloved。

And　having　exhausted　the　rain　of　flower…petals；　she　wandered　away　so　as　not　to　disturb　the　lamentations　of　her　parents。

Before　the　uselessness　of　his　bitter　plaints；　Don　Marcelo's　former　dominant　character　had　come　to　life；　raging　against　destiny。

He　looked　at　the　horizon　where　so　often　he　had　imagined　the　adversary　to　be；　and　clenched　his　fists　in　a　paroxysm　of　fury。　　His　disordered　mind　believed　that　it　saw　the　Beast；　the　Nemesis　of　humanity。　　And　how　much　longer　would　the　evil　be　allowed　to　go　unpunished？　。　。　。

There　was　no　justice；　the　world　was　ruled　by　blind　chance；all　lies；　mere　words　of　consolation　in　order　that　mankind　might　exist　unterrified　by　the　hopeless　abandon　in　which　it　lived！

It　appeared　to　him　that　from　afar　was　echoing　the　gallop　of　the　four　Apocalyptic　horsemen；　riding　rough…shod　over　all　his　fellow…　creatures。　　He　saw　the　strong　and　brutal　giant　with　the　sword　of　War；　the　archer　with　his　repulsive　smile；　shooting　his　pestilential　arrows；　the　bald…headed　miser　with　the　scales　of　Famine；　the　hard…　riding　spectre　with　the　scythe　of　Death。　　He　recognized　them　as　only　divinities；　familiar　and　terrible…which　had　made　their　presence　felt　by　mankind。　　All　the　rest　was　a　dream。　　The　four　horsemen　were　the　reality。　。　。　。

Suddenly；　by　the　mysterious　process　of　telepathy；　he　seemed　to　read　the　thoughts　of　the　one　grieving　at　his　feet。

The　mother；　impelled　by　her　own　sorrow；　was　thinking　of　that　of　others。　　She；　too；　was　looking　toward　the　distant　horizon。　　There　she　seemed　to　see　a　procession　of　the　enemy；　grieving　in　the　same　way　as　were　her　family。　　She　saw　Elena　with　her　daughters　going　in　and　out　among　the　burial　grounds；　seeking　a　loved　one；　falling　on　their　knees　before　a　cross。　　Ay；　this　mournful　satisfaction；　she　could　never　know　completely！　　It　would　be　forever　impossible　for　her　to　pass　to　the　opposite　side　in　search　of　the　other　grave；　for；　even　after　some　time　had　passed　by；　she　could　never　find　it。　　The　beloved　body　of　Otto　would　have　disappeared　forever　in　one　of　the　nameless　pit