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 hors.e.m.e.n, 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 hors.e.m.e.n 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 pa.s.s to the opposite side in search of the other grave, for, even after some time had pa.s.sed by, she could never find it. The beloved body of Otto would have disappeared forever in one of the nameless pits which they had just pa.s.sed.
"O Lord, why did we ever come to these lands? Why did we not continue living in the land where we were born?" ...
Desnoyers, too, uniting his thoughts with hers, was seeing again the pampas, the immense green plains of the ranch where he had become acquainted with his wife. Again he could hear the tread of the herds. He recalled Madariaga on tranquil nights proclaiming, under the splendor of the stars, the joys of peace, the sacred brotherhood of these people of most diverse extraction, united by labor, abundance and the lack of political ambition.
And as his thoughts swung back to the lost son he, too, exclaimed with his wife, "Oh, why did we ever come? ..." He, too, with the solidarity of grief, began to sympathize with those on the other side of the battle front. They were suffering just as he was; they had lost their sons.
Human grief is the same everywhere.
But then he revolted against his commiseration. Karl had been an advocate of this war. He was among those who had looked upon war as the perfect state for mankind, who had prepared it with their provocations.
It was just that War should devour his sons; he ought not to bewail their loss... . But he who had always loved Peace! He who had only one son, only one! ... and now he was losing him forever! ...
He was going to die; he was sure that he was going to die... . Only a few months of life were left in him. And his pitiful, devoted companion kneeling at his feet, she, too, would soon pa.s.s away. She could not long survive the blow which they had just received. There was nothing further for them to do; n.o.body needed them any longer.
Their daughter was thinking only of herself, of founding a separate home interest--with the hard instinct of independence which separates children from their parents in order that humanity may continue its work of renovation.
Julio was the only one who would have prolonged the family, pa.s.sing on the name. The Desnoyers had died; his daughter"s children would be Lacour... . All was ended.
Don Marcelo even felt a certain satisfaction in thinking of his approaching death. More than anything else, he wished to pa.s.s out of the world. He no longer had any curiosity as to the end of this war in which he had been so interested. Whatever the end might be, it would be sure to turn out badly. Although the Beast might be mutilated, it would again come forth years afterward, as the eternal curse of mankind... . For him the only important thing now was that the war had robbed him of his son. All was gloomy, all was black. The world was going to its ruin.
... He was going to rest.
Chichi had clambered up on the hillock which contained, perhaps, more than their dead. With furrowed brow, she was contemplating the plain.
Graves ... graves everywhere! The recollection of Julio had already pa.s.sed to second place in her mind. She could not bring him back, no matter how much she might weep.
This vision of the fields of death made her think all the more of the living. As her eyes roved from side to side, she tried, with her hands, to keep down the whirling of her wind-tossed skirts. Rene was standing at the foot of the knoll, and several times after a sweeping glance at the numberless mounds around them, she looked thoughtfully at him, as though trying to establish a relationship between her husband and those below. And he had exposed his life in combats just as these men had done! ...
"And you, my poor darling," she continued aloud. "At this very moment you, too, might be lying here under a heap of earth with a wooden cross at your head, just like these poor unfortunates!"
The sub-lieutenant smiled sadly. Yes, it was so.
"Come here; climb up here!" said Chichi impetuously. "I want to give you something!"
As soon as he approached her, she flung her arms around his neck, pressed him against the warm softness of her breast, exhaling a perfume of life and love, and kissed him pa.s.sionately without a thought of her brother, without seeing her aged parents grieving below them and longing to die... . And her skirts, freed by the breeze, molded her figure in the superb sweep of the curves of a Grecian vase.