the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第42节

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nd　aided　by　the　few　artillerymen　still　on　their　feet；　he　continued　firing　under　a　rain　of　iron　and　fire；　so　as　to　cover　the　retreat　of　a　battalion。

〃He　has　been　mentioned　twice　in　dispatches；〃　Marguerite　continued　reading。　　〃I　do　not　believe　that　it　will　be　long　before　they　give　him　the　cross。　　He　is　valiant　in　every　way。　　Who　would　have　supposed　all　this　a　few　weeks　ago？〃　。　。　。

She　did　not　share　the　general　astonishment。　　Living　with　Laurier　had　many　times　shown　her　the　intrepidity　of　his　character；　the　fearlessness　concealed　under　that　placid　exterior。　　On　that　account；　her　instincts　had　warned　her　against　rousing　her　husband's　wrath　in　the　first　days　of　her　infidelity。　　She　still　remembered　the　way　he　looked　the　night　he　surprised　her　leaving　Julio's　home。　　His　was　the　passion　that　kills；　and；　nevertheless；　he　had　not　attempted　the　least　violence　with　her。　。　。　。　　The　memory　of　his　consideration　was　awakening　in　Marguerite　a　sentiment　of　gratitude。　　Perhaps　he　had　loved　her　as　no　other　man　had。

Her　eyes；　with　an　irresistible　desire　for　comparison；　sought　Julio's；　admiring　his　youthful　grace　and　distinction。　　The　image　of　Laurier；　heavy　and　ordinary；　came　into　her　mind　as　a　consolation。　Certainly　the　officer　whom　she　had　seen　at　the　station　when　saying　good…bye　to　her　brother；　did　not　seem　to　her　like　her　old　husband。　But　Marguerite　wished　to　forget　the　pallid　lieutenant　with　the　sad　countenance　who　had　passed　before　her　eyes；　preferring　to　remember　him　only　as　the　manufacturer　preoccupied　with　profits　and　incapable　of　comprehending　what　she　was　accustomed　to　call　〃the　delicate　refinements　of　a　chic　woman。〃　　Decidedly　Julio　was　the　more　fascinating。　　She　did　not　repent　of　her　past。　　She　did　not　wish　to　repent　of　it。

And　her　loving　selfishness　made　her　repeat　once　more　the　same　old　exclamation〃How　fortunate　that　you　are　a　foreigner！　。　。　。　　What　a　relief　to　know　that　you　are　safe　from　the　dangers　of　war！〃

Julio　felt　the　usual　exasperation　at　hearing　this。　　He　came　very　near　to　closing　his　beloved's　mouth　with　his　hand。　　Was　she　trying　to　make　fun　of　him？　。　。　。　　It　was　fairly　insulting　to　place　him　apart　from　other　men。

Meanwhile；　with　blind　irrelevance；　she　persisted　in　talking　about　Laurier；　commenting　upon　his　achievements。

〃I　do　not　love　him；　I　never　have　loved　him。　　Do　not　look　so　cross！　How　could　the　poor　man　ever　be　compared　with　you？　　You　must　admit；　though；　that　his　new　existence　is　rather　interesting。　　I　rejoice　in　his　brave　deeds　as　though　an　old　friend　had　done　them；　a　family　visitor　whom　I　had　not　seen　for　a　long　time。　。　。　。　　The　poor　man　deserved　a　better　fate。　　He　ought　to　have　married　some　other　woman；　some　companion　more　on　a　level　with　his　ideals。　。　。　。　　I　tell　you　that　I　really　pity　him！〃

And　this　pity　was　so　intense　that　her　eyes　filled　with　tears；　awakening　the　tortures　of　jealousy　in　her　lover。　　After　these　interviews；　Desnoyers　was　more　ill…tempered　and　despondent　than　ever。

〃I　am　beginning　to　realize　that　we　are　in　a　false　position；〃　he　said　one　morning　to　Argensola。　　〃Life　is　going　to　become　increasingly　painful。　　It　is　difficult　to　remain　tranquil；　continuing　the　same　old　existence　in　the　midst　of　a　people　at　war。〃

His　companion　had　about　come　to　the　same　conclusion。　　He；　too；　was　beginning　to　feel　that　the　life　of　a　young　foreigner　in　Paris　was　insufferable；　now　that　it　was　so　upset　by　war。

〃One　has　to　keep　showing　passports　all　the　time　in　order　that　the　police　may　be　sure　that　they　have　not　discovered　a　deserter。　　In　the　street　car；　the　other　afternoon；　I　had　to　explain　that　I　was　a　Spaniard　to　some　girls　who　were　wondering　why　I　was　not　at　the　front。　。　。　。　　One　of　them；　as　soon　as　she　learned　my　nationality；　asked　me　with　great　simplicity　why　I　did　not　offer　myself　as　a　volunteer。　。　。　。　　Now　they　have　invented　a　word　for　the　stay…at…　homes；　calling　them　Les　Embusques；　the　hidden　ones。　。　。　。　　I　am　sick　and　tired　of　the　ironical　looks　shot　at　me　wherever　I　go；　it　makes　me　wild　to　be　taken　for　an　Embusque。〃

A　flash　of　heroism　was　galvanizing　the　impressionable　Bohemian。　　Now　that　everybody　was　going　to　the　war；　he　was　wishing　to　do　the　same　thing。　　He　was　not　afraid　of　death；　the　only　thing　that　was　disturbing　him　was　the　military　service；　the　uniform；　the　mechanical　obedience　to　bugle…call；　the　blind　subservience　to　the　chiefs。　Fighting　was　not　offering　any　difficulties　for　him　but　his　nature　capriciously　resented　everything　in　the　form　of　discipline。　　The　foreign　groups　in　Paris　were　trying　to　organize　each　its　own　legion　of　volunteers　and　he；　too；　was　planning　hisa　battalion　of　Spaniards　and　South　Americans；　reserving　naturally　the　presidency　of　the　organizing　committee　for　himself；　and　later　the　command　of　the　body。

He　had　inserted　notices　in　the　papers；　making　the　studio　in　the　rue　de　la　Pompe　the　recruiting　office。　　In　ten　days；　two　volunteers　had　presented　themselves；　a　clerk；　shivering　in　midsummer；　who　stipulated　that　he　should　be　an　officer　because　he　was　wearing　a　suitable　jacket；　and　a　Spanish　tavern…keeper　who　at　the　very　outset　had　wished　to　rob　Argensola　of　his　command　on　the　futile　pretext　that　he　was　a　soldier　in　his　youth　while　the　Bohemian　was　only　an　artist。　　Twenty　Spanish　battalions　were　attempted　with　the　same　result　in　different　parts　of　Paris。　　Each　enthusiast　wished　to　be　commander　of　the　others；　with　the　individual　haughtiness　and　aversion　to　discipline　so　characteristic　of　the　race。　　Finally　the　future　generalissimos；　decided　to　enlist　as　simple　volunteers　。　。　。　but　in　a　French　regiment。

〃I　am　waiting　to　see　what　the　Garibaldis　do；〃　said　Argensola　modestly。　　〃Perhaps　I　may　go　with　them。〃

This　glorious　name　made　military　service　conceivable　to　him。　　But　then　he　vacillated；　he　would　certainly　have　to　obey　somebody　in　this　body　of　volunteers；　and　he　did　not　believe　in　an　obedience　that　was　not　preceded　by　long　discussions。　。　。　。　　What　next！

〃Life　has　changed　in　a　fortnight；〃　he　continued。　　〃It　seems　as　if　we　were　living　in　another　planet；　our　former　achievements　are　not　appreciated。　　Others；　most　obscure　and　poor；　those　who　formerly　had　the　least　consideration；　are　now　promoted　to　the　first　ranks。　　The　refined　man　of　complex　spirituality　has　disappeared　for　who　knows　how　many　years！　。　。　。　　Now　the　simple…minded　man　climbs　triumphantly　to　the　top；　because；　though　his　ideas　are　limited；　they　are　sure　and　he　knows　how　to　obey。　　We　are　no　longer　the　style。〃

Desnoyers　assented。　　It　was　so；　they　were　no　longer　fashionable。　None　knew　that　better　than　he；　for　he　who　was　once　the　sensation　of　the　day；　was　now　passing　as　a　stranger　among　the　very　people　who　a　few　months　before　had　raved　over　him。

〃Your　reign　is　over；〃　laughed　Argensola。　　〃The　fact　that　you　are　a　handsome　fellow　doesn't　help　you　one　bit　nowadays。　　In　a　uniform　and　with　a　cross　on　my　breast；　I　could　soon　get　the　best　of　you　in　a　rival　love　affair。　　In　times　of　peace；　the　officers　only　set　the　girls　of　the　provinces　to　dreaming；　but　now　that　we　are　at　war；　there　has　awakened　in　every　woman　the　ancestral　enthusiasm　that　her　remote　grandmothers　used　to　feel　for　the　strong　and　aggressive　beast。　。　。　。　　The　high…born　dames　who　a　few　months　ago　were　complicating　their　desires　with　psychological　subtleties；　are　now　admiring　the　military　man　with　the　same　simplicity　that　the　maid　has　for　the　common　soldier。　　Before　a　uniform；　they　feel　the　humble　and　servile　enthusiasm　of　the　female　of　the　lower　animals　before　the　crests；　foretops　and　gay　plumes　of　the　fighting　males。　　Look　out；　master！　。　。　。　　We　shall　have　to　follow　the　new　course　of　events　or　resign　ourselves　to　everlasting　obscurity。　　The　tango　is　dead。〃

And　Desnoyers　agreed　that　truly　they　were　two　beings　on　the　other　side　of　the　river　of　life　which　at　one　bound　had　changed　its　course。　There　was　no　longer　any　place　in　the　new　existence　for　that　poor　painter　of　souls；　nor　for　that　hero　of　a　frivolous　life　who；　from　five　to　seven　every　afternoon；　had　attained　the　triumphs　most　envied　by　mankind。



CHAPTER　III

THE　RETREAT


War　had　extended　one　of　its　antennae　even　to　the　avenue　Victor　Hugo。　It　was　a　silent　war　in　which　the　enemy；　bland；　shapeless　and　gelatinous；　seemed　constantly　to　be　escaping　from　the　hands　only　to　renew　hostilities　a　little　later　on。

〃I　have　Germany　in　my　own　house；〃　growled　Marcelo　Desnoyers。

〃Germany〃　was　Dona　Elena；　the　wife　of　von　Hartrott。　　Why　had　not　her　sonthat　professor　of　inexhaustible　sufficiency　whom　he　now　believed　to　have　been　a　spytaken　her　home　with　him？　　For　what　sentimental　caprice　had　she　wished　to　stay　with　her　sister；　losing　the　opportunity　of　returning　to　Berlin　before　the　frontiers　were　closed？

The　presence　of　this　woman　in　his　home　was　the　cause　of　many　compunctions　and　alarms。　　Fortunately；　the　chauffeur　and　all　the　men…servants　were　in　the　army。　　The　two　chinas　received　an　order　in　a　threatening　tone。　　They　must　be　very　careful　when　talking　to　the　French　maidsnot　the　slightest　allusion　to　the　nationality　of　Dona　Elena's　husband　nor　to　the　residence　of　her　family。　　Dona　Elena　was　an　Argentinian。　　But　in　spite　of　the　silence　of　the　maids；　Don　Marcelo　was　always　in　fear　of　some　outburst　of　exalted　patriotism；　and　that　his　wife's　sister　might　suddenly　find　herself　confined　i