the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第68节

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armed　the　same　as　the　officers；　they　also　imitated　their　freezing　hauteur　and　repellent　unapproachableness。　　There　came　out　of　the　drays　hundreds　of　folding　cots；　which　were　placed　in　rows　in　the　different　rooms。　The　furniture　that　still　remained　was　thrown　out　in　a　heap　under　the　trees。　　Squads　of　soldiers　were　obeying　with　mechanical　promptitude　the　brief　and　imperious　orders。　　An　odor　of　an　apothecary　shop；　of　concentrated　drugs；　now　pervaded　the　quarters；　mixed　with　the　strong　smell　of　the　antiseptics　with　which　they　were　sprinkling　the　walls　in　order　to　disinfect　the　filthy　remains　of　the　nocturnal　orgy。

Then　he　saw　women　clad　in　white；　buxom　girls　with　blue　eyes　and　flaxen　hair。　　They　were　grave；　bland；　austere　and　implacable　in　appearance。　　Several　times　they　pushed　Desnoyers　out　of　their　way　as　if　they　did　not　see　him。　　They　looked　like　nuns；　but　with　revolvers　under　their　habits。

At　midday　other　automobiles　began　to　arrive；　attracted　by　the　enormous　white　flag　with　the　red　cross；　which　was　now　waving　from　the　castle　tower。　　They　came　from　the　division　battling　beyond　the　Marne。　　Their　metal　fittings　were　dented　by　projectiles；　their　wind…　shields　broken　by　star…shaped　holes。　　From　their　interiors　appeared　men　and　more　men；　some　on　foot；　others　on　canvas　stretchersfaces　pale　and　rubicund；　profiles　aquiline　and　snubby；　red　heads　and　skulls　wrapped　in　white　turbans　stiff　with　blood；　mouths　that　laughed　with　bravado　and　mouths　that　groaned　with　bluish　lips；　jaws　supported　with　mummy…like　bandages；　giants　in　agony　whose　wounds　were　not　apparent；　shapeless　forms　ending　in　a　head　that　talked　and　smoked；　legs　with　hanging　flesh　that　was　dyeing　the　First　Aid　wrappings　with　their　red　moisture；　arms　that　hung　as　inert　as　dead　boughs；　torn　uniforms　in　which　were　conspicuous　the　tragic　vacancies　of　absent　members。

This　avalanche　of　suffering　was　quickly　distributed　throughout　the　castle。　　In　a　few　hours　it　was　so　completely　filled　that　there　was　not　a　vacant　bedthe　last　arrivals　being　laid　in　the　shadow　of　the　trees。　　The　telephones　were　ringing　incessantly；　the　surgeons　in　coarse　aprons　were　going　from　one　side　to　the　other；　working　rapidly；　human　life　was　submitted　to　savage　proceedings　with　roughness　and　celerity。　　Those　who　died　under　it　simply　left　one　more　cot　free　for　the　others　that　kept　on　coming。　　Desnoyers　saw　bloody　baskets　filled　with　shapeless　masses　of　flesh；　strips　of　skin；　broken　bones；　entire　limbs。　　The　orderlies　were　carrying　these　terrible　remnants　to　the　foot　of　the　park　in　order　to　bury　them　in　a　little　plot　which　had　been　Chichi's　favorite　reading　nook。

Pairs　of　soldiers　were　carrying　out　objects　wrapped　in　sheets　which　the　owner　recognized　as　his。　　These　were　the　dead；　and　the　park　was　soon　converted　into　a　cemetery。　　No　longer　was　the　little　retreat　large　enough　to　hold　the　corpses　and　the　severed　remains　from　the　operations。　　New　grave　trenches　were　being　opened　near　by。　　The　Germans　armed　with　shovels　were　pressing　into　service　a　dozen　of　the　farmer…prisoners　to　aid　in　unloading　the　dead。　　Now　they　were　bringing　them　down　by　the　cartload；　dumping　them　in　like　the　rubbish　from　some　demolished　building。　　Don　Marcelo　felt　an　abnormal　delight　in　contemplating　this　increasing　number　of　vanquished　enemies；　yet　he　grieved　at　the　same　time　that　this　precipitation　of　intruders　should　be　deposited　forever　on　his　property。

At　nightfall；　overwhelmed　by　so　many　emotions；　he　again　suffered　the　torments　of　hunger。　　All　day　long　he　had　eaten　nothing　but　the　crust　of　bread　found　in　the　kitchen　by　the　Warden's　wife。　　The　rest　he　had　left　for　her　and　her　daughter。　　A　distress　as　harrowing　to　him　as　his　hunger　was　the　sight　of　poor　Georgette's　shocked　despondency。　She　was　always　trying　to　escape　from　his　presence　in　an　agony　of　shame。

〃Don't　let　the　Master　see　me！〃　she　would　cry；　hiding　her　face。　Since　his　presence　seemed　to　recall　more　vividly　the　memory　of　her　assaults；　Desnoyers　tried；　while　in　the　lodge；　to　avoid　going　near　her。

Desperate　with　the　gnawings　of　his　empty　stomach；　he　accosted　several　doctors　who　were　speaking　French；　but　all　in　vain。　　They　would　not　listen　to　him；　and　when　he　repeated　his　petitions　they　pushed　him　roughly　out　of　their　way。　。　。　。　　He　was　not　going　to　perish　with　hunger　in　the　midst　of　his　riches！　　Those　people　were　eating；　the　indifferent　nurses　had　established　themselves　in　his　kitchen。　。　。　。　　But　the　time　passed　on　without　encountering　anybody　who　would　take　pity　on　this　old　man　dragging　himself　weakly　from　one　place　to　another；　in　the　misery　of　an　old　age　intensified　by　despair；　and　suffering　in　every　part　of　the　body；　the　results　of　the　blows　of　the　night　before。　　He　now　knew　the　gnawings　of　a　hunger　far　worse　than　that　which　he　had　suffered　when　journeying　over　the　desert　plainsa　hunger　among　men；　in　a　civilized　country；　wearing　a　belt　filled　with　gold；　surrounded　with　towers　and　castle　halls　which　were　his；　but　in　the　control　of　others　who　would　not　condescend　to　listen　to　him。　　And　for　this　piteous　ending　of　his　life　he　had　amassed　millions　and　returned　to　Europe！　。　。　。　　Ah；　the　irony　of　fate！　。　。　。

He　saw　a　doctor's　assistant　leaning　up　against　a　tree；　about　to　devour　a　slab　of　bread　and　sausage。　　His　envious　eyes　scrutinized　this　fellow；　tall；　thick…set；　his　jaws　bristling　with　a　great　red　beard。　　The　trembling　old　man　staggered　up　to　him；　begging　for　the　food　by　signs　and　holding　out　a　piece　of　money。　　The　German's　eyes　glistened　at　the　sight　of　the　gold；　and　a　beatific　smile　stretched　his　mouth　from　ear　to　ear。

〃Ya；〃　he　responded；　and　grabbing　the　money；　he　handed　over　the　food。

Don　Marcelo　commenced　to　swallow　it　with　avidity。　　Never　had　he　so　appreciated　the　sheer　ecstasy　of　eating　as　at　that　instantin　the　midst　of　his　gardens　converted　into　a　cemetery；　before　his　despoiled　castle　where　hundreds　of　human　beings　were　groaning　in　agony。　　A　grayish　arm　passed　before　his　eyes；　it　belonged　to　the　German；　who　had　returned　with　two　slices　of　bread　and　a　bit　of　meat　snatched　from　the　kitchen。　　He　repeated　his　smirking　〃Ya？〃　。　。　。　and　after　his　victim　had　secured　it　by　means　of　another　gold　coin；　he　was　able　to　take　it　to　the　two　women　hidden　in　the　cottage。

During　the　nighta　night　of　painful　watching；　cut　with　visions　of　horror；　it　seemed　to　him　that　the　roar　of　the　artillery　was　coming　nearer。　　It　was　a　scarcely　perceptible　difference；　perhaps　the　effect　of　the　silence　of　the　night　which　always　intensifies　sound。　The　ambulances　continued　coming　from　the　front；　discharging　their　cargoes　of　riddled　humanity　and　going　back　for　more。　　Desnoyers　surmised　that　his　castle　was　but　one　of　the　many　hospitals　established　in　a　line　of　more　than　eighty　miles；　and　that　on　the　other　side；　behind　the　French；　were　many　similar　ones　in　which　the　same　activity　was　going　onthe　consignments　of　dying　men　succeeding　each　other　with　terrifying　frequency。　　Many　of　the　combatants　were　not　even　having　the　satisfaction　of　being　taken　from　the　battle　field；　but　were　lying　groaning　on　the　ground；　burying　their　bleeding　members　in　the　dust　or　mud；　and　weltering　in　the　ooze　from　their　wounds。　。　。　。　　And　Don　Marcelo；　who　a　few　hours　before　had　been　considering　himself　the　unhappiest　of　mortals；　now　experienced　a　cruel　joy　in　reflecting　that　so　many　thousands　of　vigorous　men　at　the　point　of　death　could　well　envy　him　for　his　hale　old　age；　and　for　the　tranquillity　with　which　he　was　reposing　on　that　humble　bed。

The　next　morning　the　orderly　was　waiting　for　him　in　the　same　place；　holding　out　a　napkin　filled　with　eatables。　　Good　red…bearded　man；　helpful　and　kind！　。　。　。　and　he　offered　him　the　piece　of　gold。

〃Nein；〃　replied　the　fellow；　with　a　broad；　malicious　grin。　　Two　gleaming　gold　pieces　appeared　between　Don　Marcelo's　fingers。　Another　leering　〃Nein〃　and　a　shake　of　the　head。　　Ah；　the　robber！　How　he　was　taking　advantage　of　his　necessity！　。　。　　。　　And　not　until　he　had　produced　five　gold　coins　was　he　able　to　secure　the　package。

He　soon　began　to　notice　all　around　him　a　silent　and　sly　conspiracy　to　get　possession　of　his　money。　　A　giant　in　a　sergeant's　uniform　put　a　shovel　in　his　hand。　　pushing　him　roughly　forward。　　He　soon　found　himself　in　a　corner　of　the　park　that　had　been　transformed　into　a　graveyard；　near　the　cart　of　cadavers；　there　he　had　to　shovel　dirt　on　his　own　ground　in　company　with　the　indignant　prisoners。

He　averted　his　eyes　so　as　not　to　look　at　the　rigid　and　grotesque　bodies　piled　above　him　at　the　edge　of　the　pit；　ready　to　be　tumbled　in。　　The　ground　was　sending　forth　an　insufferable　odor；　for　decomposition　had　already　set　in　in　the　nearby　trenches。　　The　persistence　with　which　his　overseers　accosted　him；　and　the　crafty　smile　of　the　sergeant　made　him　see　through　the　deep…laid　scheme。　The　red…beard　must　be　at　the　bottom　of　all　this。　　Putting　his　hand　in　his　pocket　he　dropped　the　shovel　with　a　look　of　interrogation。　〃Ya；〃　replied　the　sergeant。　　After　handing　over　the　required　sum；　the　tormented　old　man　was　permitted　to　stop　grave…digging　and　wander　around　at　his　pleasure；　he　knew；　however；　what　was　probably　in　store　for　himthose　men　were　going　to　submit　him　to　a　merciless　exploitation。

Another　day　passed　by；　like　its　predecessor。　　In　the　morning　of　the　following　day　his　perceptions；　sha