the four horsemen of the apocalypse-第82节

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r　formed　by　divers　collisions　and　frictions；　like　the　descent　of　an　electric　tram　through　a　hillside　road；　or　the　course　of　a　train　which　passes　through　a　station　without　stopping。

He　saw　it　approach　in　the　form　of　a　cloud；　bulging　as　though　it　were　going　to　explode　over　the　battery。　　Without　knowing　just　how　it　happened；　the　senator　suddenly　found　himself　in　the　bottom　of　the　shelter；　his　hands　in　cold　contact　with　a　heap　of　steel　cylinders　lined　up　like　bottles。　　They　were　projectiles。

〃If　a　German　shell；〃　he　thought；　〃should　explode　above　this　burrow　。　。　。　what　a　frightful　blowing　up！〃　。　。　。

But　he　calmed　himself　by　reflecting　on　the　solidity　of　the　arched　vault　with　its　beams　and　sacks　of　earth　several　yards　thick。　Suddenly　he　was　in　absolute　darkness。　　Another　had　sought　refuge　in　the　shelter；　obstructing　the　light　with　his　body；　perhaps　his　friend　Desnoyers。

A　year　passed　by　while　his　watch　was　registering　a　single　second；　then　a　century　at　the　same　rate　。　。　。　and　finally　the　awaited　thunder　burst　forth；　making　the　refuge　vibrate；　but　with　a　kind　of　dull　elasticity；　as　though　it　were　made　of　rubber。　　In　spite　of　its　thud；　the　explosion　wrought　horrible　damage。　　Other　minor　explosions；　playful　and　whistling；　followed　behind　the　first。　　In　his　imagination；　Lacour　saw　the　cataclysma　writhing　serpent；　vomiting　sparks　and　smoke；　a　species　of　Wagnerian　monster　that　upon　striking　the　ground　was　disgorging　thousands　of　fiery　little　snakes；　that　were　covering　the　earth　with　their　deadly　contortions。　。　。　。　The　shell　must　have　burst　nearby；　perhaps　in　the　very　square　occupied　by　this　battery。

He　came　out　of　the　shelter；　expecting　to　encounter　a　sickening　display　of　dismembered　bodies；　and　he　saw　his　son　smiling；　smoking　a　cigar　and　talking　with　Desnoyers。　。　。　。　　That　was　a　mere　nothing！　The　gunners　were　tranquilly　finishing　the　charging　of　a　huge　piece。　They　had　raised　their　eyes　for　a　moment　as　the　enemy's　shell　went　screaming　by；　and　then　had　continued　their　work。

〃It　must　have　fallen　about　three　hundred　yards　away；〃　said　Rene　cheerfully。

The　senator；　impressionable　soul；　felt　suddenly　filled　with　heroic　confidence。　　It　was　not　worth　while　to　bother　about　his　personal　safety　when　other　menjust　like　him；　only　differently　dressedwere　not　paying　the　slightest　attention　to　the　danger。

And　as　the　other　projectiles　soared　over　his　head　to　lose　themselves　in　the　woods　with　the　explosions　of　a　volcano；　he　remained　by　his　son's　side；　with　no　other　sign　of　tension　than　a　slight　trembling　of　the　knees。　　It　seemed　to　him　now　that　it　was　only　the　French　missilesbecause　they　were　on　his　sidethat　were　hitting　the　bull's　eye。　　The　others　must　be　going　up　in　the　air　and　losing　themselves　in　useless　noise。　　Of　just　such　illusions　is　valor　often　compounded！　。　。　。　　〃And　is　that　all？〃　his　eyes　seemed　to　be　asking。

He　now　recalled　rather　shamefacedly　his　retreat　to　the　shelter；　he　was　beginning　to　feel　that　he　could　live　in　the　open；　the　same　as　Rene。

The　German　missiles　were　getting　considerably　more　frequent。　　They　were　no　longer　lost　in　the　wood；　and　their　detonations　were　sounding　nearer　and　nearer。　　The　two　officials　exchanged　glances。　　They　were　responsible　for　the　safety　of　their　distinguished　charge。

〃Now　they　are　warming　up；〃　said　one　of　them。

Rene；　as　though　reading　their　thoughts；　prepared　to　go。　　〃Good…bye；　father！〃　　They　were　needing　him　in　his　battery。　　The　senator　tried　to　resist；　he　wished　to　prolong　the　interview；　but　found　that　he　was　hitting　against　something　hard　and　inflexible　that　repelled　all　his　influence。　　A　senator　amounted　to　very　little　with　people　accustomed　to　discipline。　　〃Farewell；　my　boy！　。　。　。　　All　success　to　you！　。　。　。　Remember　who　you　are！〃

The　father　wept　as　he　embraced　his　son；　lamenting　the　brevity　of　the　interview；　and　thinking　of　the　dangers　awaiting　him。

When　Rene　had　disappeared；　the　captains　again　recommended　their　departure。　　It　was　getting　late；　they　ought　to　reach　a　certain　cantonment　before　nightfall。　　So　they　went　down　the　hill　in　the　shelter　of　a　cut　in　the　mountain；　seeing　the　enemy's　shells　flying　high　above　them。

In　a　hollow；　they　came　upon　several　groups　of　the　famed　seventy…　fives　spread　about　through　the　woods；　hidden　by　piles　of　underbrush；　like　snapping　dogs；　howling　and　sticking　up　their　gray　muzzles。　　The　great　cannon　were　roaring　only　at　intervals；　while　the　steel　pack　of　hounds　were　yelping　incessantly　without　the　slightest　break　in　their　noisy　wrathlike　the　endless　tearing　of　a　piece　of　cloth。　　The　pieces　were　many；　the　volleys　dizzying；　and　the　shots　uniting　in　one　prolonged　shriek；　as　a　series　of　dots　unite　to　form　a　single　line。

The　chiefs；　stimulated　by　the　din；　were　giving　their　orders　in　yells；　and　waving　their　arms　from　behind　the　pieces。　　The　cannon　were　sliding　over　the　motionless　gun　carriages；　advancing　and　receding　like　automatic　pistols。　　Each　charge　dropped　an　empty　shell；　and　introduced　a　fresh　one　into　the　smoking　chamber。

Behind　the　battery；　the　air　was　racking　in　furious　waves。　　With　every　shot；　Lacour　and　his　companion　received　a　blow　on　the　breast；　the　violent　contact　with　an　invisible　hand；　pushing　them　backward　and　forward。　　They　had　to　adjust　their　breathing　to　the　rhythm　of　the　concussions。　　During　the　hundredth　part　of　a　second；　between　the　passing　of　one　aerial　wave　and　the　advance　of　the　next；　their　chests　felt　the　agony　of　vacuum。　　Desnoyers　admired　the　baying　of　those　gray　dogs。　　He　knew　well　their　bite；　extending　across　many　kilometres。　　Now　they　were　fresh　and　at　home　in　their　own　kennels。

To　Lacour　it　seemed　as　though　the　rows　of　cannon　were　chanting　a　measure；　monotonous　and　fiercely　impassioned　that　must　be　the　martial　hymn　of　the　humanity　of　prehistoric　times。　　This　music　of　dry；　deafening；　delirious　notes　was　awakening　in　the　two　what　is　sleeping　in　the　depths　of　every　soulthe　savagery　of　a　remote　ancestry。　　The　air　was　hot　with　acrid　odors；　pungent　and　brutishly　intoxicating。　　The　perfumes　from　the　explosions　were　penetrating　to　the　brain　through　the　mouth；　the　eyes　and　the　ears。

They　began　to　be　infected　with　the　same　ardor　as　the　directors；　shouting　and　swinging　their　arms　in　the　midst　of　the　thundering。　The　empty　capsules　were　mounting　up　in　thick　layers　behind　the　cannon。　　Fire！　。　。　。　always；　fire！

〃We　must　sprinkle　them　well；〃　yelled　the　chiefs。　　〃We　must　give　a　good　soaking　to　the　groves　where　the　Boches　are　hidden。〃

So　the　mouths　of　'75　rained　without　interruption；　inundating　the　remote　thickets　with　their　shells。

Inflamed　by　this　deadly　activity；　frenzied　by　the　destructive　celerity；　dominated　by　the　dizzying　sway　of　the　ruby　leaves；　Lacour　and　Desnoyers　found　themselves　waving　their　hats；　leaping　from　one　side　to　another　as　though　they　were　dancing　the　sacred　dance　of　death；　and　shouting　with　mouths　dry　from　the　acrid　vapor　of　the　powder。　。　。　。　　〃Hurrah！　。　。　。　　Hurrah！〃

The　automobile　rode　all　the　afternoon　long；　stopping　only　when　it　met　long　files　of　convoys。　　It　traversed　uncultivated　fields　with　skeletons　of　dwellings；　and　ran　through　burned　towns　which　were　no　more　than　a　succession　of　blackened　facades。

〃Now　it　is　your　turn；〃　said　the　senator　to　Desnoyers。　　〃We　are　going　to　see　your　son。〃

At　nightfall；　they　ran　across　groups　of　infantry；　soldiers　with　long　beards　and　blue　uniforms　discolored　by　the　inclemency　of　the　weather。　　They　were　returning　from　the　intrenchments；　carrying　over　the　hump　of　their　knapsacks；　spades；　picks　and　other　implements　for　removing　the　ground；　that　had　acquired　the　importance　of　arms　of　combat。　　They　were　covered　with　mud　from　head　to　foot。　　All　looked　old　in　full　youth。　　Their　joy　at　returning　to　the　cantonment　after　a　week　in　the　trenches；　made　them　fill　the　silence　of　the　plain　with　songs　in　time　to　the　tramp　of　their　nailed　boots。　　Through　the　violet　twilight　drifted　the　winged　strophes　of　the　Marseillaise；　or　the　heroic　affirmations　of　the　Chant　du　Depart。

〃They　are　the　soldiers　of　the　Revolution；〃　exclaimed　Lacour　with　enthusiasm。　　〃France　has　returned　to　1792。〃

The　two　captains　established　their　charges　for　the　night　in　a　half…　ruined　town　where　one　of　their　divisions　had　its　headquarters；　and　then　took　their　leave。　　Others　would　act　as　their　escort　the　following　morning。

The　two　friends　were　lodging　in　the　Hotel　de　la　Siren；　an　old　inn　with　its　front　gnawed　by　shell…fire。　　The　proprietor　showed　them　with　pride　a　window　broken　in　the　form　of　a　crater。　　This　window　had　made　the　old　tavern　signa　woman　of　iron　with　the　tail　of　a　fish　sink　into　insignificance。　　As　Desnoyers　was　occupying　the　room　next　to　the　one　that　had　received　the　mark　of　the　shell；　the　inn…keeper　was　anxious　to　point　it　out　to　them　before　they　went　to　bed。

Everything　was　brokenwalls；　floor；　roof。　　The　furniture；　a　pile　of　splinters　in　the　corner；　the　flowered　wall　paper；　a　fringe　of　tatters　hanging　from　the　walls。　　Through　an　enormous　hole　they　could　see　the　stars　and　feel　the　chill　of　the　night。　　The　owner　stated　that　this　destruction　was　not　the　work　of　the　Germans；　but　was　caused　by　a　projectile　from　one　of　the　seventy…fives　when　repelling　the　invaders　from　the　village。　　And　he　beamed　on　the　ruin　with　patriotic　pride；　repeating：

〃There's　a　sample　of　French　ma