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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..99c95ec --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65463 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65463) diff --git a/old/65463-0.txt b/old/65463-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4f49843..0000000 --- a/old/65463-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6462 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The End: How the Great War Was Stopped, by -L. P. Gratacap - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The End: How the Great War Was Stopped - A Novelistic Vagary - -Author: L. P. Gratacap - -Release Date: May 28, 2021 [eBook #65463] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from images made available by the Hathi Trust Digital - Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE END: HOW THE GREAT WAR WAS -STOPPED *** - - - - - -THE END - - - - - THE END - - How the Great War was Stopped - A Novelistic Vagary - - By - L.P. GRATACAP - - NEW YORK - THOMAS BENTON - 1917 - - - - - Copyright by - L.P. GRATACAP - 1917 - - - Printed by - THE EDDY PRESS CORPORATION - Cumberland, Maryland - - - - -CONTENTS - - - Chapter Page - - _I. Saint Choiseul_ 7 - - _II. Gabrielle_ 27 - - _III. My Return_ 49 - - _IV. Gabrielle's Seance_ 71 - - _V. The War_ 95 - - _VI. The Invasion_ 120 - - _VII. The Repulse_ 150 - - _VIII. Gabrielle's Visitation_ 168 - - _IX. God's Hand_ 195 - - _X. The End_ 221 - - _XI. Conclusion_ 270 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -SAINT CHOISEUL - - -It is a pretty village, Saint Choiseul, perched on a hillside whose -slopes, undeviatingly smooth and moderate, subside into a flowing -land of streams and fields and white roadways. Its narrow streets are -decorous with straight lines of prim poplars that have a military -stiffness, and while the wind stirs their hedged leaves into audible -protest--the flutter of a restrained salutation or a salute simply--it -seems hardly able to extort from their braced branches the tribute of -an obeisance. - -The houses are generally simple things of two and sometimes only -one story, built of limestone blocks that have weathered into an -undecipherable composition of brown blotches, staring white strips, -mossy crevices, little pits of black, and crannies of nutritious -decomposition, where tiny grass blades have sprouted. Under favorable -skies--and they are almost always favorable at St. Choiseul--their -uneven walls become fascinating studies of minor-color harmonies, and -rising as they do amid beds of flowers, or just grazed grass, from -which they seemed in the broad sunshine to gather subtle tints of -gayety, by some evanescent reflexion, they become fascinatingly pretty, -and commodious, so to say, to an artist's fancy. - -The clustered chimneys in some larger villa formed occasional and -well-spaced visual incidents that broke the monotony of the low -cottages and added a keenly valued distinction to our pleasant hamlet. -It was delightful. You felt its persuasive loveliness the moment you -came up the road from far-away Paris--Ah! not so far away that we could -not see the Eiffel Tower on fair days, and on all days, or rather -nights, note the dull flare of its lights in the sky. The road you came -by crossed a stone bridge that threw its moss-covered span over a clear -deep brook, running all the way from Briois, with pollarded willows on -rushy banks, and drooping wistarias wildly clinging to white birches -in the meadow lands of rich farmers, where the brook, loitering, made -pools in which the cattle stood for hours in cream and russet dabs over -the half glittering rippled water. _Mon Dieu! Comme il était beau!_ - -Our house was the second in the village on the right hand side of the -road, as you came from Paris, just next to Privat Deschat, an old -carpet-weaver whose back-yard was as many colored as a flower garden -with bright rugs, green, and yellow, and blue, and red, and brown, hung -out on lines that webbed the air like a spider's nest, in the spring. -And a very pleasant, inviting house ours was with its staid look of -reserved happiness, I might say. There it was with its deep-silled -windows, filled with geraniums and heart's ease, its wide black door, -and big brass knocker, that was a dragon's tongue lolling out of a -dragon's scaly jaw, its long slanting shingled roof, with two dormer -windows, and its pastiche red bricks peeping in ruddy streaks through -the dense ampelopsis that climbed up to the eaves, and then lurked in -the dark, to make its way into the house, and lingering there, became -pale and white. - -There was no veranda or piazza, but just a covered porch with four -wooden pillars and two bench seats, where sister Gabrielle and I -sat long hours in the evenings in summer time, when we were afraid -sometimes to enter the house because--Ah, but I must not tell that now, -for just that fear and what it led to, and how it helped us to end the -WAR, is the sole reason of my telling this story at all. No, no, that -is a long way towards the end, and here I've hardly begun. - -Well, as pleasing and welcoming as the house seemed on the outside, -it was even more lovely within. I don't wonder the spirits--Ah, _bête -encore_--Yes, most lovely. You see there was a wide hall in soft yellow -and china-blue tile, with the Privat Deschat's rag-carpet in short -strips over it, and a big Holland clock against the wall, and prints -in black and white framed in mahogany, and an old narrow carved table -with tall porcelain candle-sticks on it, from Dresden, and then some -straw-bottomed chairs in gilded frames, and the garden of blooms, seen -through the door on the other side, which opened on a walk covered with -a vine-trellis, and bordered by smart gillyflowers, and hollyhocks, and -sunflowers, and cushions of pansies. - -Then there was a good big square room on the right of the hall full -of books, and friendly chairs, and pictures, with a big desk-table in -the centre, where rose toweringly a superb old bronze French lamp, -that even then we burned with whale oil. You wound it up, and the -oil was pumped on the wicks and--the light was soft and charming and -companionable. The windows were high and low; they reached up to the -ceiling, and they left spaces for window seats at the floor, and white -tapestry curtains shaded them, and then at night--we did it in the -winter mostly--there could be drawn over them soft, thick folds of -green baize, and we seemed softly entombed in a delicious seclusion--so -delicate, so sure. My sister loved the long evenings that way, of -winter, and if it stormed and the snow stung the windows with sharp -taps, she would laugh almost, with the happiness of security. - -And there was a big fire-place on the west side of the room--you see -this library was on the west side of the house too--but it was the -whole width of the house also, and the southern outlook swept over -the low land and gazed straight to Paris. That chimney corner was -delightful, and the wisps of light from the soft coal lit up the mantel -and played grotesquely over the row of Peruvian Inca figures and -face-jars that filled it--I brought them from America--so that they -seemed to squint and grin, or just look glum and melancholy. Gabrielle -said they came to life in the half dark, and she made them talk to -me--for she interpreted them in her odd way--the old Inca warriors and -the medicine men and the priests, and the little beggar with a stump -for a leg, and the squinting big-toothed demon in red and black. - -All that in the winter, but in summer and early fall, with the windows -all open, the cooling night air came in, and brought with it odors of -the ground and perfumes--O! so delicate and ravishing--of the flowers; -St. Choiseul loved flowers; there was not a home without them--and -so mixed with these, as if sound and smell had run together in a -composite, half of each, the murmur of insects, the endless roundelay -of the peeping tree toads, a twittering of birds, and the shivering of -leaves in the trees. How we loved it! - -I am rambling dully, but you see, kind friend, such strange weird -things happened in that house afterwards, and such sorrow came to me -after all the blessed joy of years, now lost, forever lost, that I -cannot stop my thought picturing everything about it, as if I would -leap back into the arms of other days, and let them caress and soothe -me and banish my grief. - -On the east side of the hall-way was our dining room, a simple room -with just straw-bottomed chairs, an immense oak side-board, royally set -out with glass and blue plates, and on the walls quaint expressionless -portraits of our people, including mother and father, a fat uncle with -a pipe, and half closed eye, and a great grandfather in the regimentals -of the Revolution--very brave looking and handsome--and some very -staring aunts, and great aunts in starched finery, that made them look -like owls. - -Back of the pantry was the kitchen, with old Hortense, as the high -priestess and oracle--our own dear Hortense, with such a kind heart, -and a ready ear, and a generous hand--Ah! how we children loved her, -and how she loved us, and how she packed our napkins for school, or our -baskets for picnics--as the Americans say. She used to shake her wise -old head slyly at us when we looked in at the kitchen door, with that -little hungry grin on our faces: - -"_Certainement_, you are veery hungree. Oh I know--it is a great pity -and there is nothing, _Vraiment_--nothing--but See! I do so," and her -long fingers snapped, and she waved them in an appeal to space, and -then she cautiously raised a big bowl and _Voila!_ a nest of crisp, -aromatic, yellow buns, or cookies, or _gateaux aux raisins_, so good, -so inexpressibly good! - -And upstairs were the pleasant bed-rooms, so inviting to repose in -their demure neatness, with high posters and pavilions, and their broad -bottomed rockers, and their rainbow wallpapers, and rag carpet strips, -over the bronzed, aged, and russety black wooden floors. - -My own room was over the library; it looked north and west, and I would -hang out of its window for half an hour at a time, watching the red sun -quench itself behind the golden and flaming horizon, whose secrets I -yearned to know, whose untrodden wonders I dreamed to penetrate. Those -wistful hours awoke the unconfessed but sleepless passion of my heart -to sail out over the Atlantic, a passion too of unrest, linked in my -disposition with ecstacies and imaginations. - -Sister Gabrielle was in the next room to mine, and in her sweet, -tasteful, fresh and white bed-room, rose the chimney from the library -fire-place below--so that she had her own chimney corner too, in the -second story of the house and THERE--Well, wait, that comes later. - -Our parents were nervously alert in nature, intelligent and -conscientious. In them a strain of Huguenot puritanism was combined -with an intellectual appetite that seemed to create in each a -physical activity that made them restless in manner, and weak in -health. They watched my sister and myself too suspiciously, and their -affection became almost an aggravation of kindness, and solicitude, -and curiosity, which made me more eager to escape that protecting -roof-tree, and see the world. On my sister, as I shall explain, it -exercised the most unfortunate influence, and accentuated that peculiar -neurosis whose roots--as I was to learn later--were enlaced in a -sub-conscious sensitivity to occult and invisible agencies, which -indeed I helped to strengthen. - -We were provided with neighbors and friends, and while the village of -St. Choiseul was sufficiently democratic to tolerate and encourage -friendly intercourse with everyone, as a matter of congeniality and -temperamental tastes, we knew intimately but five persons in St. -Choiseul. These five composed a contrasted and picturesque group, and -when all were assembled in our big library, father and mother seemed to -me most attractive, for in converse that was stimulating and personal, -they attained a serenity of feeling and manner, that made them really -delightful. Let me quickly describe our friends. - -There was the rug-maker and carpet weaver, Privat Deschat, an elderly, -robust Norman, who worked hard at his tasks in the mornings--and his -mornings began very early--read as steadily for three or four hours -in the afternoon, napped two hours, ate supper with his housekeeper -and hunted up a friend with whom he smoked and chatted, or played Demi -Rouge for the remainder of his day, which never extended over midnight, -and more customarily closed at ten. - -Privat Deschat was unquestionably very good company, quiet, attentive, -observant, and spasmodically conversational, when his suppressed -gift of speech awoke a momentary admiration. He was a short, strong -man, with large cheeks, a massive head, an expressive mouth, made -more so by very good teeth, and what might be called reticent eyes, -in which his delicate and studious self retreated, under the guise -of inexpressiveness. Again these quiet eyes would light up with -enthusiasm, or it might be with distrust and defiance. His speech -accompanied his roused spirit, and no one dared--no one wished--to -interrupt, lest the rebuke might return him to silence. You see, he -thoroughly delighted us. He was a bit quaint in his way of saying -things. - -And there was Capitaine Bleu-Pistache, who had been wounded in the 1870 -fight and limped about on a wooden peg, with a stout cane in one hand. -He was an amiable old mustachio, with pleasant eyes, under frowning -eyebrows, a white whisp of hair on the top of his high brow, and a -hooked nose that made him look like a bird of prey. But ah, he was most -lovable! In the afternoon his little yard--he lived down the street on -the opposite side from us in a small red and yellow brick house, hidden -in climbing roses--was filled with children, for the old _sabreur_ told -stories well, and the boys and girls loved to hear him, and then in the -spring he played marbles with them, so like a big chuckling boy, that -it made us laugh to watch him get down on his good knee, and then get -helped up again by the biggest boys, after he had taken his shot. It -was _tres jolie_! Gabrielle and I thought so, and we played with him -and the rest, when we too were, as the Americans say, kiddies. In later -years when the aches--_la sciatique abominable_, as he said--settled -in his bones, he gave up marbles, and turned to knitting, and it kept -him quite happy. He would come in the evenings and enjoy our library, -and very often fall asleep and snore ferociously. Father and mother, -I think, loved him, but there was a good deal of veneration in their -affection; Capitaine Jean Sebastien Bleu-Pistache always wore his medal -of honor, won at Gravelotte. - -The captain had a daughter who was the apple of his eye and never was -there a daughter more sweet and affectionate. Blanchette, he said, was -so like her mother--_pauvre Blanche_--dead now and resting among the -big weeping willows in the crooked church yard, that ran down the hill -at the other end of the village, with the grave-stones like a huddle -of white or gray lambs chasing each other down the same slope, to the -beech grove, and the purring brooklet, washing the long iris-bloom in -summer. Blanchette said very little, but she always watched her father -softly out of the corners of her eyes, and clapped her hands together -softly too at his old, old stories, just as if she had never heard them -before. Well Blanchette was our third friend. - -And then the school-master--_maître d'école_--was a good friend, who -smoked profusely, drank our red wine profusely too, and munched the -sugary cookies mother made, as if he had never tasted anything so nice -before. Indeed perhaps he had not, for he lived poorly some miles -away, and came to school on a funny old mule that he never hitched -up anywhere, but just jumped off its back, and let it wander as it -would. Only it wouldn't. It went to sleep on the shady side of the -school-house, and when the sun woke it up then it ambled slowly to the -other side, for you see Emile Chouteau fed his dear friend so very -well, that she was never hungry--whatever along the roadside, coming -to school, she fancied, she ate--and always seemed growing fatter and -fatter, so that it looked as if Emile would have to walk to school at -last, when Sarah--he called her that--grew too fat to move. - -How funny--_O! tres drôle_--the two were so different in size and way; -the fat, sleepy, moody mule, lounging along, and stopping as if to -yawn, while Emile read his book on its back, his head buried in its -pages. And the school-master was so meagre, and long, and nervously -restless and even excitable, and that perplexed stare with his glasses -shoved up on the very top of his bald head! Ah, I see him always when -I pass the school-house now. He dressed in tight fitting clothes, -and they were just a little too small even for his thin body. Where -he got his clothes was a matter of wonder to us. They were a little -faded looking when new, and when they were old they became glossy, and -then old Emile had the tatters mended by his boarding-house mistress. -He looked neat and scrupulous too, in a way, and indeed we liked him -greatly, although he lectured somewhat, and was apt to talk overmuch -when our red wine lashed his spirits into a fervor of enthusiasm about -Virgil, for the whole of reading and literature was summed up in Virgil -to Emile Chouteau. - -He loved to tell us: - - "_Virgil est un homme du Mond entier. Il presente le principe du - cosmopolitanisme. Il est immortel parce qu'il n'appartient pas à aucun - pays. Il devient la propriété de tous. La Renaissance était fondue sur - Virgil: les meilleurs sont ses disciples._" - -Poor Emile Chouteau, he died before I came back from America, though -long before that he had been pensioned, and lived with his mule in the -same way that he had lived all the long unchanged years of his teaching -in the little school house. And Sarah? Sarah seemed to miss something -after Emile's funeral--the country side followed Emile's body with -candles, for Emile was a devoted Catholic--and not long afterwards she -was found in the school-house. She had broken in the door and walked -in; was she looking for Emile? The last time I saw Sarah she was -ploughing a field in Briois. - -Emile's successor was the fifth acquisition we boasted of in our little -company of intimates--Lorenzo Sebastien Quintado--a Spaniard. - -Lorenzo was not typically Spanish after the fashion of the -story-writers. He was not darkly handsome, languorous, taciturn and -irritable, nor meagre, tall, with flashing eyes and raven hair. O! -quite different and because so different so likeable. For all the world -he made me think of the bachelor Sampson Carrasco in _Don Quixote_. -Do you recall him--"Though Sampson by name this bachelor was no giant -in person, but a little mirth-loving man, with a good understanding, -about twenty-four years of age, of a pale complexion, round faced, -flat-nosed and wide mouthed; all indicating humour, and a native relish -for jocularity?" - -Yes that does bring back to my mind the way, the poise even, and the -sprightly liveliness, the almost expectant jubilation of Lorenzo. He -sang well, and in the long dusks, when the quivering lights of the -sunset died out of the sky along the burning west, where black fringes -of the thick-set trees seemed dipped in fire, his voice rose richly, in -caressing and ear-catching melodies. I almost hear him now, singing so -carelessly, with an untaught art, a simple song praising the charms of -Spanish girls. His voice was a high barytone. - - _Fair are the vineyards of Seville, - O! fair beyond compare, - But fairer than their fairness still - The eyes of ladies there. - The orange groves of Moguér - Are golden as the sun, - But brighter is the golden hair - Of girls who in them run._ - - - _The morning skies of Cordova - Were tinted as in flame, - The cheeks of damsels rosier far - As from the hills they came. - Long live the darling girls of Spain - Untouched by age or time, - Forever free from care or pain, - Ah! may one yet be mine._ - -I remember on one of the last evenings I passed at home--that was -before I went to America--when the fall had come, and the foliage was -deepening into splendid colors, not so splendidly indeed as in America -I think, but still gloriously vivid. There was Privat Deschat, and -Capitaine Bleu-Pistache, and his daughter--we sat together and our -hands often crossed--and dear old Emile--he died soon after--and father -and mother. We were sitting in our pleasant garden around a little -table, directly under the stone wall that shut in our ground on the -south--towards Paris--and everywhere lay the drifted leaves of the one -big chestnut, that grew just outside the wall, in the sloping ground -towards the big green fields, with islands of woods in them. Emile -called the yellow leaves as they dropped silently through the sunlight, -and shone like lustres in the sunlight, before they touched the ground, -_pans d'or_--gold flakes. - -Our red wine was on the table, and that delicious morsel that Hortense -made better than anyone, _la galette aux amandes_, and it was the -captain who was talking. He was telling about the awful days when the -Germans took possession of the land, when the whole village struck for -the woods, and camped there in a sorry fright, for the women and the -children said to each other, "_Nous savons que Bismarck tue tous les -enfants pour qu'il n'y ait plus de Français._" - -"Well, well, they are over--_les scelerats ne puissent--ils faire cela -encore_--Eh? We are strong now. The army is _fitte_, as the English -say, and--Ah I will never shoulder arms again, _mais_, I could, _Oui! -Oui! Je puis tirer._" - -I leaned over and whispered to Blanchette, "They should never touch -you Blanchette--_Pourquoi; parce que je t'aime_," and she pressed my -hand ever so lightly and smiled, and I knew that she was pleased, and -then--"_Mon Dieu_--I could have stopped _l'escadron d'allemands tout -seul_!" - - "_Tu quoque littoribus nostris, Aeniea nutrix, - Aeternam moriens famam, Caieta, dedisti: - Et nunc servat honos sedem tuus._" - -It was Emile, of course, talking his indispensable Virgil, though -surely the captain was not dead yet. "Yes, captain, France will never -forget your service. I know those were hard days. I was sick then at -the village of Louvry, not so far you know from the preserve and -forests of Villers-Cotterets, and I can tell you that the Huns came to -us for champagne, and my people told them there was none in the house, -and they swore--_terriblement_--and said they had seen the bottles -empty, and they would show them to us, and they went into the cellar -and they--_Helas, il était tres drôle_--pointed to bottles of _eau de -Seidlitz_ which--_vous savez_--look like champagne bottles a little--a -little--_n'est ce pas?_--and they took them away, and soon they had -them empty too--_ce sont buveurs monstrueuses_--but--splendid, the -retribution of the Gods-- - - _Di tibi, si qua pios respectant numina, si quid - Usquam justitia est_--; - -they were all shockingly sick; you see, _la purgative totale_--" - -There was some laughing, though Blanchette blushed a good deal, and I -could have boxed the careless mouth of Monsieur, _le Maître d'École_. - -"Listen _mes amis_," now it was the curious treble of Privat Deschat, -"I am not sure but the skies will blacken again, and the _buse_ (eagle) -will shut out the sunlight with its swarming hosts. It is not all -over yet. Be watchful. You remember the thunder-storm last week when -the _chevreuil_ came into the back-yards, the stags were seen in the -roadways, and the wild boars ran into Briois roaring. I was up that -night late, for I had a package of rugs to send to Paris, and it struck -one in the morning when I put out the light, and said my prayers--_ils -n'étaient pas beaucoup_--there came a crack, like the last call of -judgment, and then the wind and rain grew mad with ambitions to outdo -each other. It was then I guess that the blow knocked over the tower -on the ruins at Bienne and filled the moat of the chateau, and swelled -the brooks with rain, so that the land to Mareuil became a lake and the -chicken coops swam all the way to La Ferté. Well about an hour after -that the storm vanished. I was still up fearful and watching. - -"I can see a long way over the farms, and suddenly the moon broke -through with a wonderful light--it was full moon--and the wind shifted, -piling the clouds up in swirling masses, black as ink, and still, at -moments flashing with lightning, and crashing with thunder. I could see -the lands far off towards Bienne shining with great lakes of water, the -dark walls of forest, and in the fields huddled cattle, in droves. Then -it seemed to me as if the light grew stronger in the sky--it was about -two in the morning then--so strong it grew, that I felt there must be -some fires about, perhaps towards Briois. I went outside in the road. -It was ankle deep with mud, but I ploughed through it to the edge of -the slope of the road, from Paris, and looked towards the east, for the -clear spaces of the sky were there. Then came the vision." - -The speaker stood up among his now fascinated hearers; they were all -leaning toward him, as if drawn by a magnet, and while I closed my hand -more tightly around the warm fingers of Blanchette I too, with her, -strained my ears to hear Deschat's words which were less loud. - -"I could see no fire anywhere, and yet the light was raining down -around me like an electric glow. I was half frightened; it seemed so -marvelous! Well slowly from out of the rolled up thunder and rain -clouds came a curious thing. It was a galloping squadron of horses, -manes flowing, tails stiff behind them, and on them riders and on the -heads of the riders the _pickelhaube_ of the Germans. They flew over -the open sky, and the moonlight seemed to pierce them through and -through, and they shone with white lines within the dark bodies; the -WHITE LINES of SKELETONS. What did it mean? I thought they would never -end. On and on in hosts. Of course they were only mists, clouds, but -so true to form, so real, like gigantic ghosts! I trembled before the -apparition--_vue spirituel_--and then the light died away, and the -figures became blurred, and the moon went out, behind the clouds, and I -came back to the house. It was half past three. - -"I may be wrong friends, but--I take it that vision was prophecy. The -HUN comes again. Get ready. He comes again--_encore_!" - -We were all silent for a minute or so, and then--it was the scolding -squeak of Emile--"_Eh bien_--What of it? We will be ready. _Rumpe moras -omnes; et turbata arripe castra._" - -"_Mes amis_--" it was my father now who rose, and addressed the little -group, turning to this side and to that, almost as if he were before an -assembly; "Deschat is right--_il y a raison_--the hour of trial comes -once more, the pride of race, the sense of justification demands the -restoration of Alsace and Lorraine. We all know that. Our conquerors -know that, for the poets of both nations have sung it, and the poets -are the prophets, for they feel the vibrations of the pulse of the -peoples; their ears are sharp, they hear the _timbre_ of the distant -gun, before the common eye can see its smoke." - - - - -CHAPTER II - -GABRIELLE - - -My sister Gabrielle was singularly circumstanced in temperament, as -she had been too curiously abused in treatment. I left her a young man -of twenty-one--she was two years older than I--and only knew of her -changing experiences from letters sent to me at San Antonio, Texas. -Mother and father were always a trifle worried over Gabrielle's retired -and shrinking ways, her abnormal shyness before people, a physical -timidity almost that kept her face averted, her rich, deep, large eyes -half closed as if in dreams, and controlled her speech, impeding and -denying it. - -Her languid action and the frequent recurrent fits of a semi-stupor -passing off into reveries, when the loosened current of her thought -found an unexpected vent in rambling half-lucid, oftentimes poetic -apostrophes and ascriptions, wrought in them a transparent terror that -embarrassed the grieving girl. - -Something of the sort had disturbed me before I left home, because -I loved Gabrielle dearly, and remembered so many intimacies between -us. In our walks around fair Briois we--both perhaps prematurely -serious and inquisitive--talked of things invisible and beautiful, as -angels and fairies, and in an old graveyard back of a church beyond -the village and on the edge of a wood where the birds nested and sung, -wondered over the dead. We amused our fancies with inventions of their -work and play, now their bodies were so securely anchored in the earth. -Because of all this, yes, and because Gabrielle was very pretty too, I -tried to break the mystery of her modesty and lonely habits. - -But really there was no mystery, and her modesty was a lovely maidenly -reserve. Gabrielle was nervously over-strung, and her susceptibilities -were extremely tender and responsive, and then there was growing in her -that inexplicable power which forms the _raison d'être_ of all this -marvellous experience which--as everyone knows now--put an end to the -awful WAR. - -Well, before I left home, before I found myself hung, as it were, over -the bottomless Atlantic in a big sea-worthy American ship, booked for -Galveston, Texas, mother and father decided to send Gabrielle to Paris -to a training school of nurses. It had occurred to them that my sister -with her gentleness, and a real skill in the use of her fingers, would -do well, while the contact with doctors and surgeons--rather direct, -imperious, and active men--would wear away her apparent mistrust and -nervousness. - -But here was their mistake. The analysis was correct, the procedure -hopelessly wrong. Gabrielle, always obedient and gravely mute about -her own wishes, assented, and entered a training school for nurses -and almost at once encountered the terrors of the operating room. Her -sensitive and refined sense shuddered at the sight of suffering and -disease, her pity for it--willing and self-sacrificing as was her -desire to help--caused her involuntary agony of mind. The vulgarities -of treatment, the raw necessities of the exposure, mutilations, and -the repulsion she felt for blood, and the naked sightlessness of -wounds, amputations, incisions--all the obtrusive physical facts of -the hospital offended her. Too delicate in feeling, too aesthetic in -temperament, too limpid in her affinities, as of a spirit discarnate, -soaring, and apprehensive, she underwent mental tortures--hard to -realize to others differently conditioned--in this enforced service. - -Perhaps I was not myself solicitous enough about her, and her welfare; -because--well, it is clear I am sure--because I was much in love with -Blanchette, and as the days brought me nearer to that moment when I -would leave home, and struggle for that wealth America seems to hold so -temptingly out in her outstretched hands to everyone, I felt almost -bitterly the probability that--in the nature of things--Blanchette -would not, could not wait for me. When might I return--Ah when?--the -thought wrenched me like a physical violence, and the nightly scarlet -of the evening skies almost, to my despairing heart, seemed stained -with the drops of my own blood. - -It was a year before I went to America--that was in 1895--that I sat -with Blanchette in the garden back of her pleasant home on a low mound, -in a bosque or coppice of trimmed beeches, with a little fairyland -of garden beds before us, of larkspur, hollyhocks, geraniums, and -piebald four-o'clocks, and the slant lights fading slowly upwards -left a thousand hues among their petals. The captain favored our -_rendez-vous_, and I half thought that I saw him in an upper window of -the house benignantly smiling upon our tryst. - -The comeliness of a sweetly fair girl was Blanchette's, and the -ringletted hair of her blonde mother--a Swede--caught in an abundant -chignon behind her well shaped head, brought into ravishing relief the -rounded and blushing cheeks, the winning deep-set blue eyes, where -something, to me almost etherial, dwelt, the full lipped mouth, with -the blue veins of her temples, the round white neck, and the ample -contours of her shoulders, hidden that night beneath the blue folds of -a crepe handkerchief, crossed over her breast like a _fichu_. - -"Blanchette," I said at length, just as the last lingering patches of -sunlight seemed to escape skyward from the flowers, "you know that I am -going away to America--and--I am not going solely for myself--_pas de -tout_. You will be with me in my daily thoughts, in my work, and every -dollar--_toujours dollars en l'Amerique_--I make, will be put away for -YOU; _Mais comme je t'aime!_" - -It was a sudden impulse, and its very awkwardness showed the sincerity -of my feeling, its impetuous earnestness; and deliciously was it -rewarded. Blanchette caught my face in her soft long hands, and brought -it down to her own; our lips met, and the pledge of our future life -together unuttered, was sworn so deeply in our hearts, that we were -dumbfounded with the overmastering passion of the moment. - -Again and again we embraced, and our lips sought each other with a -rapture inexpressible--_une rapture indicible_--while the moving hours -swept the heavens of all light, and the fragrance of the gardens rose -overpoweringly like sensuous incitations to our immeasurable needs. - -The long pent-up torrent of our love caught upon its waves each -momentary reserve, and smothered it in the racing tides of our -limitless joy. Voices seemed to speak to us from every side, as if -the spirits of nature, enthralled in flower, and tree, and grass, and -herb, disincarnate through sympathy, spoke to us, inarticulate but -real. _C'était l'appel aphrodisiac de l'âme_--the ecstatic epitome of a -life-time. - -That night I leaned out of the window of my room, and the night, -calm and gloriously light with the gibbous moon half flooding the -broad distances with its pale splendors, seemed to bathe my spirit in -incredible consolations of hope, ambition. An exorbitant confidence -seized me. Anticipation and resolve raised innumerable visions, and the -bending salutation of Success almost audibly filled my ears with its -siren promises. - -Blanchette would wait. I must not be too avaricious. A little was -enough for our serene and inconspicuous days. Let it be in a year--two? -_Les fortunes merveilleuses ne viendraient-ils?_ Perhaps--perhaps--let -us believe so, now, and if the time is lengthened, well--_les noces -s'attarderaient seulement un peu_. - -So dreaming, so feeding illustrious hopes, I forgot Gabrielle, in -my selfish egotism, and while I had dimly divined the result of her -new work I offered no opposition to our parents' designs, and even -encouraged Gabrielle with specious flatteries. She would grow stronger; -the life of the great city would be full of wonders, and captivate her -mind with its marvels. Then there would be fresh friendships, the -gayety of companionships, innumerable alleviations of _l'ennui_. - -Gabrielle shook her dear head, and the sweet yearning eyes watched me -with a sad disillusionment that I had deserted her, and, I, in the -madness of my joy and in the eagerness of my plans, recurred to the -artifice of commonplaces, and the flat sophistries of comfort. - -I came upon her one morning weeping quietly in her room with her head -leaning against the mantel piece, her white slender fingers pressed -upon her eyes and the tears slipping through them. I caught her in -my arms, and turned her head upon my breast with the real anguish of -self-reproach. - -"Gabrielle, Gabrielle, what hurts you? You break my heart. Have I -been forgetful? O! believe me Gabrielle it will be all well, and -if--if--perhaps--I know, you say I have been only thinking of myself. -Ah forgive me, Gabrielle; surely you know that I love you from the very -bottom of my heart and if you could only see it you would believe." - -"Yes," she murmured between sobs that wrung my heart. "_Oui_ Alfred, -_c'est vrai_--but I feel so sorrowful at times, and I am afraid of the -great city, and the visions come to me at night and I wake up shaking -with strange doubts." - -"Why Gabrielle, what do you mean? Visions! You have never told me of -that before. What visions?" - -It was some time before I could contrive to make her tell me more, and -when she finally drew me to a sofa at the window, keeping her face -fixed outward on the sweet pageantry of the little gardens on the -hill, and the far-away loveliness of the forests, and the shifting -radiances of the lowlands, she held me spell-bound with the strange -confession. Her voice was at first very low, almost inaudible, but -slowly she regained her composure, and the story came from her lips -with an unstudied grace and realism that imposed its truthfulness -upon its hearer. Indeed my own latent sympathy in nature with that of -Gabrielle's, from the first, enthralled me in a trance of confidence. - -"Why, Alfred, a year ago I was standing at my bed-side--it was late -and the night was dark. I had put out my lamp, and was about to say my -prayers, when softly there seemed to steal into the room a light. It -came at first from the ceiling of the room, and then it shifted and -shone like a phosphorescent ball, or a little cloud of glowing fire -half concealed behind a veil. I was not frightened--No, not at all, but -I felt a delicious calmness, a wonderful soothing self-surrender to -an unseen influence, as if the effluence of some mind controlled me, -and--I thought so--I sank slowly to the floor, while the light rose -and expanded and grew before my eyes into a shape, a form of flowing -lines of light, with shades between them, and the faintest pencillings -of a rosy tint ran here and there over it, and then--perhaps then -Alfred I had swooned; but there was no fear. It was just like a -delicious lapse in unconsciousness into sleep, and with that came -voices in my ears--faint, very faint, murmurous, indistinguishable, and -then--" - -"And then?" I exclaimed, now thoroughly excited myself, and catching -Gabrielle's hands, bringing her face to mine, and gazing into her eyes -with mute expostulating curiosity. - -"I knew nothing more--all vanished, apparition and voices, and I woke -up leaning against my bed and bathed in perspiration." - -We were both silent for a time, and without any encouragement Gabrielle -resumed her story, but she had freed herself from my arms, and walked -to the center of her room--its walls were well filled with pretty -colored prints, for the most part religious figures--and with her -hands crossed behind her back, stood before me and continued--and now -her rueful expression, and the rebuking tenderness of her eyes, had -disappeared, and in their place was an old familiar smile, inexplicably -reminiscent, like a visible soliloquy. It often arose to her face and -it became her. - -"I waited for the visitation again and again, putting myself in the -same position, and shutting out the light, and--praying. It came -once, a few months after the first, and then I thought it was some -forewarning of danger to father or mother, or to you Alfred, and I -dreaded to open my eyes in the mornings, fearing disaster, sickness--I -know not what; and then Alfred it suddenly seemed to me it meant that -_it was my own summons_!" - -"And when it came the second time, was it different?" I almost cried -aloud, abruptly guessing that it portended mischief to Blanchette. - -"No, quite the same, but less bright and more restless, changing in its -brightness, and flitting slowly up the walls and back again, and never -forming a figure as at the first. But something else was different; -O! much different--_The Voices_. They were stronger, and Alfred it is -the voices now that fill my ears at night with callings, and singular -messages, that I cannot understand, and Alfred," she came closer to me, -and her voice, sinking to a whisper, seemed almost stealthy; "I have -spells of fainting. Mother has picked me up many times and I have heard -her talking to father about it, and they have written to the doctors in -the Training School and-- Well you know it is all settled, but Alfred -it will not help me. I dread it. I shall be unhappy." - -The forlorn misery returned to her eyes, and the despairing gesture, -as she brought her hands forward and leaned them against my shoulders -and with a keen interrogation fixed her gaze upon my own, revealed her -unwillingness to go to Paris. She went on: - -"In those trances--if they are really trances--the voices come in all -sorts of ways to me. I cannot understand it; it scares me and yet I -have grown to wish to hear them--some of them. For they are very, very -different. Some voices are like children talking low, almost lisping, -and always musical, and others are cold and hard; but--Alfred, is not -this wonderful? I can drive those hard, stern voices off, by just -wishing them away; my mind does it somehow, and the others come to me -when I wish them to--O! but it is marvelous." - -Her eyes were lit again with a saintly joy--a little wild I -thought--and for a moment I shuddered at the thought that perhaps -Gabrielle was losing her mind, under the stress of her hallucinations. -Ah! but were they hallucinations? I was not unwilling to believe them. -Both Gabrielle and I had indulged in the reading of ghostly tales, when -children, and because it was just a little difficult for us to gratify -our fancy for the weird and the supernatural--all the eccentricities of -the disembodied--we had loved them the more. - -We were interrupted in our talk by some call for Gabrielle, and I -was left alone to ponder the strange matter, with I think, a crude -kind of expectancy that we approached transcendent mysteries, -dwelling unconfessed in my mind. But I was not a little alarmed also. -Gabrielle's delicate texture, her spiritualized emotions, which also -in their poignant intensity of feeling assumed now to me the aspect of -a thaumaturgic power, might induce some mental derangement. Uncertain -what to do, and unwilling to tell the affair to our parents, who would -only see in it a new urgency for Gabrielle's transportation to changed -fields of association, I concluded to confide everything Gabrielle had -told me to Blanchette. - -Blanchette was incredulous. She could not believe it. It offended -her robust sense of actual living and the sharp realization in her -of the materiality of the senses. You see in Blanchette something of -the captain's skepticism, his naked Voltairism had developed. She was -silent for a while, and then answered very slowly my question, "What is -best to do?" - -"Alfred, Gabrielle is unwell; you must get her away. She lives too -lonely a life, reads too much, and is unsociable. Let her once live -among the hard facts of the hospital, and the training school, -and--Ah! then--it will all go, like the fogs--_comme les brouillards -s'evanouis-saient quand le soleil les éclate_. Eh? Alfred, you know -that." - -I did not know it, and I was ill disposed at first to adopt -Blanchette's view. But she was very tender and affectionate, and I was -blind and too happy--too miserable too, as I must soon leave her--to -do justice to Gabrielle. And so it came about that I argued the matter -with Gabrielle, and insisted that she must try Paris, and the school, -and the doctors, and forget the visitations, and mingle with the world -a little, and, amongst new acquaintances, put to flight the aggravating -"voices," for--the other marvel--the shining image--had never returned. - -This latter fact contributed a better efficacy to my persuasions, as it -seemed to prove that the whole business was some delusion of the mind. -Gabrielle was not a bit convinced, but she was so dutiful, so resigned, -and so faithful, that she yielded, put on the address of willingness -she did not really feel, just to please me. - -I took her to Paris and entrusted her with, O so many adjurations, to -Doctor Manuelle Herissois, who was most considerate and pleasing and -talked with Gabrielle with great adroitness and--I left her smiling, -but as she kissed me _Adieu_, her dear eyes were very wet indeed, -and for a moment in my own heart I mistrusted the part I had played, -and might have, in an instant, reversed the whole transaction, when -Gabrielle turned half away, while our hands yet pressed each other, -and said; "_Adieu_ Alfred. Do not come to see me when you go away to -America. I could not stand it. Write only. That will do," and then, -with a half stifled cry she fled into her room--her apartment in the -school, and quickly closed the door, and I was left mute and irresolute. - -What is more bitter than the remembrance of careless acts, thoughtless -things we have done which caused grief to those we loved, and yet, -while loving, neglected. It all came wrong, and still--_assurement le -bon Dieu, Il le faisait_--it ended the war! - -That night--I well recall it, I think, each minute of it--Blanchette -ravished me with her loveliness, her joyous salutation, her infectious -gayety, and lost in my own pleasure, the foolish vanities of doting -youth, poor Gabrielle in her loneliness, was altogether forgotten. Dear -sweet sister, with the patient heart, the endless resignation, the -guileless impulses, and with that inscrutable mysticism of feeling, -that finally brought to her the discarnate souls of the slain, the -ghostly assault of the unnumbered dead--Ah! _Malheureuse!_ not yet! -again my tell-tale tongue, the hurrying scribble of my heedless pen! - -Well, there were so many things to think of, and Blanchette was so -eager to see me every minute, that when I had taken leave of all of -our friends, and father and mother had invoked blessings on my head, -and exacted promises that I would write each week, and the captain had -made me very sure that he wanted a few pounds of the Texas pecan nuts -sent to him, and Privat Deschat asked for a half dozen hanks of Texas -cotton, if they could be found in the Galveston stores, Emile Chouteau -(it was after he had left the school), wished only my happy return, -that the waters would be propitious, the winds and the waves, and, if -storms, why then: - - _dicto citius tumida aequora placat - Collectasque fugat nubes, solemque reducit_; - -and Sebastien Quintado had hugged me a dozen times and smacked me -robustly as many times on each cheek--why, there was no time to be lost -for me to pack up my few belongings, and get away to Marseilles as -fast as ever I could--and then had not Gabrielle said _not to come to -bid her Adieu; that she could not stand it_? _Certainement._ And so it -was, that when I stood on the quay at Marseilles, trembling, nervous, -and half regretful, everyone had been seen, everyone embraced, and -everyone's orders taken, and--she, the wounded, dear sister of my flesh -and blood, was forgotten--O! No, not forgotten--not that, but missed -as it were in the furious haste, and wonderment, and expectation, and -dread. - -It was a big ship, a frigate, loaded with wines and cheeses and spices, -and many jim-cracks of all sorts, that was to take me to the New World, -and when I stood on her glistening deck, beneath the blazing sun, and -France slowly sank away from my eyes and just at last the white spot -of Marseilles, like a disk on the horizon, _went out_, like a light -snuffed out in a candle, I went to my room and cabin, and laid down and -held my hands before my face and cried pretty hard. - -And somehow then, the very presence of Gabrielle surged before me like -some embodiment of rebuke, and the physical pressure of a hand on my -shoulder startled me to my feet with a cry of anguish. But it was -nothing, only the reaction of my body to the urgency of my grief over -Gabrielle's neglect. For days the thought of my sister obscured my -happiness, although the newness of everything--ministered deliciously -to my _amour-propre_. Good resolutions helped to comfort me, and the -first thing for me to do when America was gained would be to write a -long, careful, loving letter to Gabrielle. - -My project of going to America can be briefly explained, as it may -appear almost quixotic and unreasonable otherwise, especially my -destination in Texas. But some years before acquaintances, made in -Paris, where I was studying law, led to this departure. They had -interests in cattle and farm lands, in the great state, and had -frequently made me offers to go out, and watch their rights, and report -the prospects and conditions, with inducements so advantageous to -myself that, conjoined with the long cherished project formed in my own -mind to try the chances in the Republic, resulted in this. I accepted -their invitations against my parents' wishes, who at first resolutely -denied their permission. This was overcome by my own increasing -obstinacy, that had begun to approach the earnestness of disobedience. - -Blanchette and I had, with the ludicrous solemnity of young lovers, -exchanged the pledges of fidelity, and I, in an exuberance of -hopefulness, promised to return in five years, which by some fancied -finality seemed to both of us the limit of our possible endurance. With -forceful vows I had engaged to live most simply and the frugality of my -expectations in living--measured the quickness and value of my savings, -and indeed, as it happened, I made my way fast. - -At San Antonio I became at last established, with the various -interests, I was to watch, quite fully comprehended and diligently -tended. I do not know that I ever fell in love with San Antonio, but I -certainly got to like it very well, and in later years I have recalled -it with feelings of tenderness, that came pretty near to affection. I -have every reason to be grateful to it, for I was most successful. I -had prospered, greatly prospered. When I found at last that the term -of my exile came ideally near to the period when I might consider -myself well enough off to go back and claim Blanchette, I think that my -respect for San Antonio rose to the apex of unaffected enthusiasm. - -Because the purpose and body of this history is connected with the -utterly unparalleled circumstances of the ending of the monstrous war -of this century, I pass over the irrelevant details of my life in -America, except only to point out the financial luck that enabled me -to return to France, at a critical moment. In five years I was almost -rich--in my own modest estimation. At any rate I had enough, and a -luxurious indolence, which was part of my nature, fascinated me with -its temptations of rest and culture, while the thought of the waiting -Blanchette--whose letters were so true-hearted and devoted--kept -sensitized my eagerness to return almost to the point of madness. And -there was Gabrielle. - -I had been most dutiful to Gabrielle. I fulfilled all of the many -brotherly resolves I made on the voyage to America, which had been the -index of my self-reproach at leaving her so carelessly, and sweetly -and reassuringly had she answered. Alas! I only learned much later -how devotedly she had hidden her sufferings from me, that I might -not be distressed in my new home. Now when I realized that my little -fortune--part of it the result of a speculative incident so frequent -in the wonderful land of Hope--would not only unite me with Blanchette -but enable me to give comfort and happiness to Gabrielle, I was wild -with impatience to get away. It was my last month in San Antonio; the -leave for my return had been received by me, from my employers, and the -successor to my position would be at any moment in my office ready to -take charge. - -It was my last day; a sultry wilting day towards the end of August, -and I had exerted every energy in arranging the directions for my -successor, and incidentally clearing off a large amount of that -surreptitiously invading refuse of unfinished odds and ends, that -accumulate, in one way and another, in any business, which cannot be -completed by daily installments of work. A large amount of mail had -been disposed of. The office force, tired out, and half angry at the -unexpected pace I had demanded, had left, and I was alone in a large -shop fronting upon ---- Street, the principal street of San Antonio. -Gray frowning clouds had formed somewhere in the upper air. I could -detect their presence even without seeing them, by the deepening -obscurement of the opposite houses, and a chill brought in their -enveloping bosoms as they crowded down upon the city, conveyed a well -understood notice of some sudden meteorological caprice that would -relieve the tension of the heat, with possibly damaging accompaniments -of disaster. - -I sighed contentedly; the future just then, however dark the sky might -be, was radiant with the most varied lights of anticipation and of -promise. My hand moved an apparently unopened letter, or perhaps, in -its vague stirring over the desk before me, had dislodged it from -some crevice in the drawers, or beneath the folios and baskets, -and I abruptly became conscious of ITS presence. It was a human -utterance--that letter--it might have cried out to me with the incisive -agony of its menacing contents. It might I say--perhaps it did--but -through the coarse obstructive mechanism of my ears its voice, that -should have crashed around me like the call of Fate, was utterly -unheard, and it lay there just an overlooked and silent scrap of paper. - -I turned to it lazily, but in the next instant my eyes, apprehensive -through that nervous divination of thought, that writes a message in -our souls before we read or hear it, recognized the hand-writing of -Gabrielle. I felt the racing blood leave my cheeks, and stir my heart -with feverish palpitations. No letter from my sister was due now; only -last week I had received one. I could scarcely keep my fingers still -enough to tear open its cover. I knew; I knew. O! God how certainly I -knew, that in the blackness of the darkening day a greater blackness, -behind that spotless white paper, would rush out to overwhelm my life! - -In the fading light leaning against the door-sill as the men and -women of the street hurried homeward, with backward glances at the -now onrushing columns of dusky vapor in the sky, I read the letter. I -shuddered in the fear lest in the uncontrolled frenzy of my heart some -treacherous cry, some blackguard defiance of the Almighty, might bring -them around me in consternation and in anger. - -My eyes glazing slowly with the rising paralysis of terror read this: - - _Dear Brother_, - - _Something has happened. Alfred, Blanchette is sick_--vraiment--_quite - sick. I am now home in St. Choiseul nursing her. She asks for you, - Alfred. Could you come? Perhaps it would be well_--Je dis peut-etre - seulement--_and yet, Alfred, I believe it would be best. You could - help her wonderfully. Even yet, say, you will come, and things will be - better._ - - _Ah! my brother, I am sorry. O! so sorry to write this, but you - see there is nothing to be done but to--shall I say it?--Alfred, - Blanchette is very sick. It is a fever. The doctors reassure us, but - because Blanchette calls for you so often, they are convinced that it - would be good--very good--perhaps indispensable; you understand. Come - Alfred--Come, come. We will tell her you are coming._ - - _Gabrielle; St. Choiseul, - 1900_ - -The paper crumpled in my hands; something like a vapor clouded my eyes, -and hearing in my ears was suffocated in a sullen roar that came from -nowhere, and then I felt myself smashed against the pavement, at the -door of the office, and some undissipated residue of cognition recorded -the fact, that I was being lifted and carried away. - -And when again the coordinated senses revealed sensibly to me my -surroundings, I was on a bed in the hospital, in a wide white room, -with a nurse and a doctor, and in my own ears now sounded my own voice, -and all it said was compressed in struggling cries: "_Je viens, Je -viens, Je viens_--I come, I come, I come!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - -MY RETURN - - -It is fifteen years today since Blanchette died. I have grown old since -then with an age not of years, though by reason of a sister's love, I -have been consoled, strengthened, even, and now, in the presence of the -world's disaster, succumb to some unutterable conviction that the ends -of God have little need of the prayers of men. - -After my delirium in San Antonio had passed, I resumed my normal -self-possession, though a nervous weakness--since developing into a -muscular paralysis--made me at moments inert or half trembling with a -deceitful dread that set my heart beating curiously. How well I recall -it all; those days of anguish, with the twilight glimmering of joy -that I had come in time to see her, and with too a mystical sense of -attachment between us both, lasting beyond death, and bathed, as with a -consecration, in the bitterest waters of Marah. - -I had rushed from San Antonio to New York, and from New York to Havre, -and thus, in two weeks, almost exactly, stood halting before the gate -of the captain's house in St. Choiseul. The autumn season already had -begun to stain the woods with red and yellow, the delicate atmosphere -of early fall filled the fair scenes of meadow and hill and clustered -homesteads, with ravishing tints. Everything, as I despairingly gazed -upon it was so eloquent of beauty and peace and--realization! And what -lay in the house before me? I almost fell to my knees in the crushed -agony of suspense, but Ah! No! it was not suspense. I _knew_; that -psychic power which dwelt in my Gabrielle, which brought to her the -myriad voices of the dead in their awful supplications--_Eh bien_, not -that now--some of that power was with me too, and every step I went -forward to that pitiless revelation of defeat, accompanied the stern -record in the thought that hope was delusion. I had met no one; the -deserted village was itself a presage. - -I looked up at the silent house charming in its vines, flowers, into -the walled garden blushing now in the hectic flush of royal gladiolus, -up at the empty windows, and above, far above into the depthless -blue sky, where we men and women somehow place the everlasting -dwelling-place of the Almighty. Almost as I reached the door it opened, -and in its frame stood Gabrielle, much changed; I saw that at once, -through all my sadness, but solemnly beautiful I thought. My heart -leaped towards her; in the fast approaching desolation she, my blessed -sister, would save me, lift me up from the terrors of bereavement, not -with strength, but with the divine compassion that I felt now visibly -abided in her. - -Gabrielle opened wide her arms. I caught her in my own, and she -whispered in my ear; "Alfred I knew you were here. Before I saw you the -_sense_ of it was with me." - -"Gabrielle, is there no hope--no hope?" The words choked me like some -insurmountable obstruction in my throat. - -"Yes Alfred," the voice, always soft and delightful, was just a little -tremulous with sympathy, her own deep love. "There may be; the fever -has subsided a little, but--Well, come in. Blanchette asks for you so -much. Come, the spare room is at the head of the stairs. Be noiseless. -I will fix everything." - -We ascended the stairs, and I waited outside the closed door with my -head pressed against its lintels, murmuring--what were they?--Prayers? -Possibly. - -It opened softly in a few minutes, and Gabrielle with a gesture of -invitation to enter and with her finger on her lips, moved before me -into the room. I saw the waiting group at the side of a low wide bed. -The captain, erect, still, with features blanched into a pallor that -matched his white disordered hair, his figure bent slightly forward as -he leaned on his cane, and kept his eyes unchangingly riveted upon the -bed, whose occupant I could not see. At the bed-side was the watching -doctor, and to him now Gabrielle approached, withdrawing then a little -to one side with her head bowed, but with her eyes noting the sick girl -whom yet I could not see. - -I slipped to my knees with a sudden motion outward, that brought me to -the bed-side, and for a moment I stopped there, with my face buried in -the coverlid. It had been done; Blanchette knew. The next moment her -hand caressed my hair, and the weak stroke penetrated me with such an -ageless longing that, do what I would, I shook from head to toe. _Mais -courage_; I must be now most calm. Yes, yes, _most calm_. So I wrestled -with myself, biting my lips, and forcing to my eyes the haggard smile -of reassurance. My hands imprisoned the hand of Blanchette, and slowly -raising my head our eyes met. - -I did not see what I saw afterwards, the shrunken figure, the hollow -cheeks, the paling lips, the slow hideous change of emaciation. No! -nothing; only her eyes, and in them shone something so fathomless, so -beatific, that it suddenly lifted the intolerable weight of pain, it -smote the clouds of misunderstanding or rebellion, and they vanished. -It filled my ears with music, in place of groans, it summoned by the -wand of a supernatural enchantment unheralded figures of blessing, and -in those eyes I read the futurity of our endless happiness. - -I moved my head towards her, and despite the restraining hand of the -doctor kissed her lips, slowly, slowly, that the lingering embrace -might fill her soul with confidence, and against her heated cheeks -I swept my lips again and again. It was over. Our tryst was kept. -Gabrielle called me gently, and Blanchette fell from me in a fainting -spell, while the doctor firmly lifted me up to my feet, and the captain -caught my unsteady body. - -And--we had not spoken in that transient interval of surrender--thus -mutely with the deep intelligence of an uttermost love we were married, -and in that restraint unrepiningly, with an entire joy, I have lived -and _live_. Some symptoms of that psychic erethism which possessed -Gabrielle were also born in me, and before my eyes even now sweeps the -vision of my Blanchette, and in the night her voice fills my ears, and -her hand caresses my forehead. But later it was through Gabrielle that -I summoned her to me, and in this way grew the apparent supersensual -power of my sister to materialize the ghostly denizens of the -Hereafter, and install them, as it were, in matter before the physical -eye. - -Blanchette's burial was itself a poem, so sweet, so tender, so rich -in the love of friends, and in the graces of both religion and of -nature. The day was divinely rare. Everywhere was the blessed soft, -gently warming sunshine, and the last flowers of the autumn woke to -the summery touch, and bloomed again. From the doorway of her home -the little procession filed, bearing, on the unshrinking shoulders -of eight villagers, the coffin, draped in white and enjeweled with -blooms. Before it went the wavering line of altar boys, singing in -thin sopranos, and the robed Padre--Father Antoine--grave and noble, -and behind it the captain and I walked, our hands clasped together. -Although the captain moved forward erectly, I felt the nervous -pressures of his hand, tightening and relaxing, and for a moment now -and then he leaned upon me. _Mais--le brave garçon_--he never flinched, -and if his heart was near the breaking point, no one knew. Behind him -walked Gabrielle and father--mother was in the church waiting with -the congregation--and then Privat Deschat and Sebastien Quintado, and -then the long file of friends followed, old and young, who had loved -Blanchette for her goodness, her prettiness, her kindness, her grace of -being and of sympathy. - -They came from far and near; they were men and women, girls and boys, -some carrying candles, some wreaths, some little crosses of Easter -palms which they would throw in the grave, or on it. The altar boys -carried lighted candles, and the air was so still that the almost -invisible wisps of flames rose straight upward, and were revealed by -the undulous smoke that sprang from their tips as the candles wavered -in the hands of the acolytes. Slowly we moved on--somehow I seemed half -unconscious, and yet most sensitive to the day's supreme charm--the -shrill chanting of the boys, mingled almost indistinguishably in my -ears with the murmurous hum of belated cicadas, the slow rustling of -footsteps before and behind me, the occasional whisper of the vacantly -stirred foliage in the trees, the distant pipings of birds, and the -far-off wail of some wandering or bereaved dog. - -It was a dream almost, and ever and anon, like some spiritual -effluence, the fragrance of the dying season from the field, the -distant woods, the savory banks of the meadow-streams, invaded and -enmeshed my feelings, with a strange fervor of complacency, as though -I followed, not the dead body of my love, but was on my way to meet -her elsewhere. So indeed it seemed to me in the little church, where -all the frail magnificence our little church could summon for her -funeral was so loyally displayed, and where the soft voiced father -spoke with the brave and cordial accent of confidence, that Blanchette -Bleu-Pistache was most surely now in Paradise. Then I felt my own soul -leaving me amid the tapestries and lights, and upward with her, hand -in hand, I was hastening to fields of asphodel and unbroken choirs of -the celestial, and that then I swooned sideways, and for an instant the -captain held me, when the reverberant senses returned, with the rush of -whirring sounds, and I was myself again. - -Blanchette was buried in our church-yard, somewhat towards its western -wall, where the ivy clung late in the winter to the stones, where a -tall Lombardy poplar planted too against the wall, stood like some -impossibly gigantic sentinel, and where afterwards indeed the flowers -that I watered, in an agony of trust that Blanchette knew I kept thus -alive within me the imperishable union of our hearts--spread the sweet -wantonness of abundant color and perfume above her, flowers that when -they died in the autumn's cold and the winter's searing frosts and -snows, were replenished with others plucked from the conservatory of -our home, and placed under the white cross like some herbal sacrifice. - -Ah--_c'est assez_--I must not linger on the great sorrow, though in the -inextinguishable pain that I feel at moments over its recall, a hidden -selfishness as of a satiety of suffering prevails to force me to write -and write. But I have forgotten and my wandering thought obscures my -whole purpose. It is Gabrielle that all this grievous remembrance leads -to, and she who has ended the awful WAR, is the theme of this most -wonderful experience, I have essayed to tell so imperfectly. - -After Blanchette's death I stayed with the captain for some months, -until a grave disease struck me down almost to death's door, which -indeed I craved to open and to close behind me. It was a nervous fever, -from which I have never quite recovered, as it left me with recurrent -fits of weakness and a debility of energy quite unlike my former self. -The captain adopted an orphan girl, who was like an incarnation of his -daughter, and who infinitely blessed him, with a similar gentleness and -sanity and beauty. - -Gabrielle and myself became again closely knit together in -sympathy. She had nursed me in my sickness, and she read to me in -my convalescence, and then she told me of the harsh and repulsive -life of the hospital; how its penury of grace afflicted her, and the -physical destitution of the hideously sick had overcome her with an -irrepressible repulsion, and the half savage nakedness of exposures and -surgery had thrown her into momentary spasms of despairing melancholy. -But she had not complained; it was the ordeal of preparation, she -said; she had undergone extreme dread and misery of heart and mind, -and, under the visitations of her distress, those ecstasies--as she -now slowly and tearfully confessed--of desire to see the ghostly and -immaterial had returned and strengthened, and to her had come visions -and voices, and again and again in her prayers the apparent touch of -fingers tracing the braid of her hair, or even smoothing the temples of -her head had actually been felt. - -None of these things were told to me by Gabrielle until I was -effectually improved, and then they became the outpouring of her heart. -She had been unwilling to speak of them to father and mother since -they would have, beyond any question, regarded them as the symptoms of -mental infirmity, and their solicitude might have readily taken the -form of some new insistence upon the avocations of the city. Gabrielle, -after the death of Blanchette had persisted in her refusal to return -to the hospital in Paris, and, after a brief and a little unpleasant -disagreement, mother and father permitted her to stay at home. Then -came my sickness, when Gabrielle proved most useful, and then by a -natural adjustment--for exactly as it had been in the old days of -childhood we became inseparable--Gabrielle assumed domestic duties, and -our home life was reinstituted and complete. - -It was delightful, though the happiness it brought to me was a solemn -tenderness of feeling and thought simply. I had brought back from -America a small sum of uninvested funds, and when this was carefully -invested, with the interest from the moneys held by me in America and -with my father's maintenance, our living became, more than ever, free -from anxieties, and comfortably luxurious. Nor were we careless of our -duties to the less fortunate; the instruction of our parents had always -laid emphasis upon the invincible demands of charity in the Christian -life, and no one more thoughtfully than they furnished to us examples -of its most admirable exercise. - -And here I must refer to something now certainly obvious to my reader. -The religious faith of our parents was not ours--not Gabrielle's -nor mine. Perhaps that had much to do with that felt, though never -mentioned, separation--_désaccordement_, we French would, I think, call -it--that latently grew up between our parents and ourselves, dutiful -as we always were and loving too. Gabrielle and I were Catholics, and -our reversion, as it might be called, had taken place as we approached -maturity, when something in our natures responded vitally to the -spiritual richness and the sensuous impressions of the Catholic church, -while the absence of a Protestant church in St. Choiseul--supplemented -by the meeting together of various members in a room, wherein my -father often assumed the functions of the preacher--helped to establish -our desertion. There was indeed a moment's exasperation over it all, -but it was most evanescent, and, yielding to a larger liberality of -conviction than most Protestants, our parents were at least contented -that their children worshipped God and Christ. - -Certainly to Gabrielle the Catholic symposium of saints, and its -hierarchy of visible and invisible powers, appealed overwhelmingly. -She surrendered to the full harvest of its supernatural offerings, -with the gladness, the rapture, of the energumen. Now too that the -psychiatric sense or control had started within her nature, she rose -to the strange contingency of communication with the dead, with a -transcendent joy. No longer thrust upon the abhorrent carnalities -of the hospital, graciously as she acknowledged their necessity and -kindness, Gabrielle, with me, her emotional companion too, returned -to all the quietism of our life in St. Choiseul, and revelled in her -exuberance of mystical detachment. It was a partial aberration of mind, -I almost now think, despite its wondrous results, accompanied with -the enthralled wonderment and pleasure of a temperament poetical and -structurally imaginative. Gabrielle became neurotic. Her hospital life -and its terrors had something to do with it. - -This community of feeling and the gradual development of that -unhealthy indulgence in the mediumistic power, Gabrielle now discovered -she possessed (which became encouraged through my own solicitations) -formed between us a bond of fellowship, that became secretive and -masonic. It was not a fortunate circumstance, and yet SEE what marvels -flowed from it--at least so I think, and indeed I am not unwilling to -protest that it was God's hand! Of course it was my desire to approach -Blanchette in her spiritualized state, that led us onward along the -mysterious and fascinating path of our strange psychic experiments. -And so I come to that illustrious moment when I saw Blanchette in the -spirit, when--_Mon Dieu_, can I ever forget it?--that pale vision of my -own Blanchette issued from the darkness, stayed on the threshold of the -real for an instant, softly luminous, and yet discrete in form, though -the corporeal properties of the dear face I adored, seemed blurred in -the haze of an exceeding brightness. - -It was probably about six months after Blanchette's death, that I -ventured to speak to Gabrielle about the hope I almost treacherously -nourished--for the practice is forbidden by the Church--that she might -be able to summon Blanchette from the world of spirits. It was towards -the evening of a spring day, that just began to intimate the glorious -oncoming of the new season's wealth of beauty--a beauty I longed for, -for with the reawakening earth, with the fresh laughter of the whole -wide sphere of living things, I knew the dead weight of my grief would -be lightened. The sunlight, the song of birds, the flowing vesture of -the colored earth, would enter and dissolve it, and thus, mellowed into -sadness only, it would encumber me no longer with leaden hopelessness. -We were standing together at the bottom of the garden, watching the -first sproutings of the crocus from beneath a film of sheltered snow, -and the cheering warmth of the full sun filled us with the instincts of -life. It opened my lips. - -"Gabrielle," I said, "I want you to bring Blanchette back to me." - -My sister was not surprised; she turned to me with the most natural -gesture of willingness, placing her hands upon my shoulders and looking -straight into my eyes. - -"Yes, Alfred, I will. I have heard Blanchette. But I was afraid to -tell you. Twice she has spoken to me, in the night, and once in the -brightest daylight, as I stood at the window of my room. Can you stand -it? For _see_ Alfred, I feel the power strongly in these spring days, -as if the resurrection of life in all these things," she swept her arms -outward to the landscape, "brought with it the spirits of the dead; as -if they too liked a reprieve from their isolation, and thronged to the -earth. Is it not so?" - -"Oh! Gabrielle what has Blanchette said to you? Was it in words? -Gabrielle, Gabrielle, it cannot be. Do not fool me with mere fancies." - -Gabrielle smiled, a smile, as it were, of commiseration at my doubt, -for now indeed she lived, I do believe, in a mingled world of things -that we call real, and things that we call unreal, and _to her_ they -were almost the same. - -"I do not fool you Alfred. Why should I? It is so simple and it is so -true. See." - -She left me, beckoning for me to follow her. She walked to a walnut -tree, a low precarious sapling which had furtively pushed its -way upward into some semblance of a tree, and leaned against its -slender trunk, with her eyes pressed upon her crossed hands. I stood -irresolute, half expectant, half miserably self-reproachful. Suddenly -Gabrielle spoke. Her voice was itself strange, very distinct but -chilled into a sepulchral gravity. - -"It is all very dim, yellow and blue clouds float up and down, and -here and there a figure moves, and there are voices, and now a great -light--too bright--too bright--it shatters all!" - -Her voice had risen to a tone louder than conversation, and she had -raised her head with a quick upward movement, as if it had been jerked -backward. Almost instantly she turned again to me, her face blanched, -and her eyes just a little wild and strained, with no recognition in -them. The oddness passed almost as quickly as it came, and Gabrielle -smiled, and shook her head apologetically, and for one moment we -watched each other with curiosity. But Gabrielle was quite herself, and -coming close to me, she whispered: - -"No Alfred it is not hard. You saw that I pierced the unseen; though, -as it most usually happens when in the open, or with others, the -pictures are confused and the voices difficult. I cannot make them out. -But we shall try tonight together. Hold my hand and wish your wish, and -let our minds--our souls--call for _her_ and she will come. O! I am -certain!" - -"Gabrielle, I think this is not wise. You must cast off this -inclination, and banish all of these impressions. Is it not a -dangerous habit? Are you not afraid that it may unhinge your reason? -And yet--Ah! how well you know, Gabrielle, that if I could only just -be quite certain that Blanchette waits--waits. And then _but once_! -Yes but once! Gabrielle," I caught her by the shoulders, and held her -imprisoned, so that our eyes gazed into each other's, mine with a -scrutiny that was half anger, half solicitude, and hers with an intense -affection. - -"Gabrielle--this must end. You hear me. _End._ Call Blanchette if you -can. I will help you--and then--Let it all go. Cure your temperament, -banish these hallucinations. I know I have been guilty in listening to -you, but now--after Blanchette--after Blanchette--" the words left my -lips wearily, as if the next alternative were feared most by me; "after -Blanchette, no more of it. It is wrong, it is a diabolical procedure, -mixed up with nonsense and disease. _Stop it._" How extravagant are our -inconsistencies. I admonished Gabrielle, but I was not unwilling myself -to stoop to the indulgence that might bring me a glimpse--no matter -how fraught with deception, with the danger of madness, of the worse -consequences of physical deterioration, even of religious apostacy, if -only a glimpse of her I had made eternally the lode-star of my life, -now and hereafter; if only a glimpse, might be vouch-safed. - -_Mais pourquoi Non_--was I so wrong? What indeed has happened? Ah I -know Gabrielle is--_arretez vous, pauvre barbouilleur, pas encore_--Go -on with your story. It is Gabrielle speaking. - -"Brother, you do not know what you are asking me. It is impossible--it -would rob me of life, for I should not know then whether to really live -in this world and to die in the other, or to leave you and mother, and -father and home here, and to live the more glorious life beyond. Now I -live in both worlds. Yes truly--in the mornings the clouds of angels -waken me, through the nights my bed-side is covered with the spread -haloes of the dead, and in my ears sound the sweetest whispers, and -salutations of the saints. Throughout the day, if I only shut my eyes, -and ask for their appearing, the visions continue, and even my face is -brushed by fairy hands, or my lips feel the imprint of unseen, unknown -faces." - -My sister's face shone with an interior illumination, impossible to -describe, and as she talked to me I felt the astonishment that might -come to one who converses with some incarnate spirit. It did appeal -to my sympathy, for I lived now myself half immersed in the daily -contemplation of another world; it met my own anticipations vividly, -and I could not condemn, nor evade its fascination. But I wondered and -so questioned her more closely. - -"Gabrielle, how can all this be? You have never said such things to me -before, as if you were moving in a spirit-land with your feet in this -world, and your head lifted above the stars. What does it mean? I knew -something, but this tumult--_fourmillement_--of apparitions I knew -nothing of." - -"No, Alfred, I know you did not, though it has often been on my tongue -to let you know how the visitations multiplied. I think, Alfred, it -really is, as St. Paul says, that we are encompassed by a cloud -of witnesses, or this world is itself unreal, and the realities -are elsewhere; perhaps that everything about us, could we for an -instant strip them of their appearances, would be something else--you -see?--_something else_, and this atmosphere," she lifted her hand -upward, shook it rapidly, causing little puffs of air against my face, -"was loaded with currents of the dead!" - -We both got up and walked slowly towards the house. - -"Of course you have said nothing of any of these things to mother or -father?" I queried. - -"Ah, Alfred, I could not. They would not understand, and then why--why -should I?" - -After a pause: "Alfred, it will do no harm. Do not think me mad, or -deluded, or--or--unbalanced, as they say, even. I cannot make it plain -perhaps--but this I know--_they_ are there--_they_, the spirits--" and -she waved her hand up and down--"and when I call them they come, and -they come when I do not call." - -She was almost laughing now, and studying her attentively I could not -see any of those symptoms in feature, or eyes, or voice, or manner, -that betray to the alienist the disordered brain. Gabrielle never to me -looked lovelier. - -The next moment as we entered the hall-way I caught her arm and turned -her abruptly to myself; "Gabrielle, show me Blanchette." - -Her arms were about my neck in a trice, and she spoke in my ear; "Yes, -Alfred, tonight, in the library. Come. It will be my seance--and -_yours_ too. Our spirits are in tune. We will roll back the visible and -see the invisible. The substantial shall become the transubstantial, -and the diverse, one." - -This language was the only indication, at the moment, that I possibly -could have regarded as idiotic--in the common sense--and I was half -inclined to believe that Gabrielle--not without fun and humour--meant -to bewilder me with it, as a joke. - -Would I come? "Yes certainly," and so I left her, wonderingly, as I -passed to my room, recalling that utterly impossible fiction in an -English book written by an artist, called, as I remember it, _The -Martian_. I shuddered a little when I closed the door of my room, and -sank back in an easy chair, to grapple with a now peculiar problem. -Should Gabrielle be permitted to live in this world of spiritual -essences, and apparitions any longer? - -I think that I was not disinclined to live in it myself, but with -me the material stringency of affairs was unmistakable, and I did, -spasmodically at least, revolt against this extreme spiritualism. I -hunted along my book-shelves, and found the Martian book, and chasing -through its pages I stopped at this incomprehensible passage: - - "For when the life of the body ceases and the body itself is burned - and its ashes scattered to the winds and waves, the infinitesimal, - imponderable, and indestructible something we call the soul is - known to lose itself in a sunbeam and make for the sun, with all - its memories about it, that it may then receive further development - fitting it for other systems altogether beyond conception." - -And then came the intolerable fancy of these Martian souls getting into -the bodies of animals, and into men and women, and how the particular -Martia influenced the divine Englishman, and made him write wonderful -transforming books, and he thought of a life - - "where arabesques of artificial light and interwoven curves of subtle - sound had a significance undreamt of by mortal eyes or ears, and - served as conductors to a heavenly bliss unknown to earth." - -I fell into a stupor of meditation. Might not Blanchette do such things -for me? Her image sprang to my eyes, her voice sounded in my ears, -her arms embraced me, the very fragrance of her person enchanted my -nostrils, and then, as the stupor passed, and the dying day sent the -broad beams of the sun full into my face, I rose, and, feeling with -a sudden particularity of certitude, the absolute hopelessness of -fancies, of dreams, of anything but _work_, with my own life broken -at its very beginning, and the overshadowing pall of an unforgettable -disaster shrouding it from corner to corner, I sank to my couch, and, -stretched along its length, wept bitterly. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -GABRIELLE'S SEANCE - - -It was only a few minutes later that, shaking off the dreary -sluggishness of my grief, I started out of the house for a brisk walk. -Down through the village, out into the broad highway towards Briois, -where the Diligence from Paris then shot past me, with salutations -shouted from its windows, and handkerchiefs waved from its Imperial and -still on, along the fields growing verdant, while the warm tremulous -air, with its procreative touch, unclasped the glutinous envelopes of -the buds in the alders and poplars, and afar towards Bienne, and the -ruined chateau, the massed background of the walled forests spanned the -horizon with a palpitating purple haze, as of an arrested atmosphere or -emanation, and in the very zenith above me a creamy rosiness, like an -etherial colored lymph, dripped from cloudlet to cloudlet. - -How wonderfully beautiful it all was; its tenderness, the auroral -lights of the sky, and the definite joy of the returning life; it -renewed my courage, rather it put to flight the dull meanness of -sottish fears and regrets. The verses of ---- came to my mind, and -aloud, on the straight road that was now darkening, as the day fled -to the empyrean, and thence must fly over the great ocean to the -wonderland of America, I repeated them: - - _O renouveau! Soleil! Tout palpite, tout vibre - Tout rayonne, et J'ai dit, ouvrant la main; "Sois libre," - L'oiseau s'est évadé dans les rameaux flottants, - Et dans l'immensité splendide du printemps; - Et J'ai vu s'en aller au loin la petite âme - Dans cette clarté rose ou se mêle une flamme, - Dans l'air profond, parmi les arbres infinis, - Volant au vague appel des amours et des nids, - Planant éperdument vers d'autres ailes blanches, - Ne sachant quel palais choisir, courant aux branches, - Aux fleurs, aux flots, aux bois, fraîchement reverdis, - Avec l'effarement d'entrer au paradis.... - Alors, dans la lumière et dans la transparence, - Regardant cette fuite et cette deliverance, - Et ce pauvre être, ainsi disparu dans le port, - Pensif, je me suis dit: "Je viens d'être la morte."_ - -Then my thoughts reverted to the strange things Gabrielle had told -me, to the mysterious experience she promised to lead me through, -_that night_, and, as the stars stole one by one timorously out of the -filmy shadows of the east, into the grey dark sky, I speculated on -our relations with the unseen, and whether we might be so attuned, -as Gabrielle seemed to be, to respond and feel that numerous company, -and their thoughts, and wishes, their influences, and their designs? I -knew, everyone knows, that the scale of sound runs beyond the coarse -mechanism of our ears at either end of the gamut, as indeed there are -rays of light which our eyes do not catch in the ultra-violet end of -the spectrum. Could it be that actually we are immersed in a vast -ocean of spiritualized animation, which we cannot apprehend--most of -us--which touches us on every side, and is yet as unapproachable as the -stars I was looking at, but, unlike the stars, is not even suspected. - -But perhaps--so I mused--there were hierophants, translators of its -mysteries, souls enriched with some finer sense, who felt it, saw it, -or, like pulsating membranes that record the varying pressure of the -air, were so marvellously made as to feel its pressure too. They were -pendulums, swinging in two worlds, and passing from one to the other, -as one might pass from darkness to light, from discord to harmony, -from confusion to order, from the apparent and back again to the real. -Of these was Gabrielle. Or they were doorways, windows, passages, -that afforded access to us, the corporeal prisoners of the earth, -through which they came back--_les revenants_--when they too dearly -loved us to find even happiness in their new abode unless they might -occasionally regain our company. Ah could it be so with Blanchette! And -then the queer book of Du Maurier's (that was the name of the English -artist who wrote it) came into my head, and the impossible fancy of the -Martian woman living in the body or the brain of Barty Joselin, and the -death of the girl Marty who had become the second home of the beautiful -demon woman--the Martian sprite. - -I half wondered whether Blanchette could come and tenant my own body, -with me, or was she inhabiting Gabrielle? Ah--_la folie_--but should -I indeed see her tonight? I hurried along the familiar road, now in -a growing tempest and terror of mind, almost with, I cannot describe -it, a queer sense of disembodiment, as if I, myself, were not in my -flesh and blood, but some ghost of myself, with an engagement to meet -the ghost I had loved--and yet loved. Thus I hastened backward in the -night, and entered my home, where the lights burned most cheerfully, -and found my parents and sister waiting for me, and Hortense--still -with us, with her flagging energies helped out by a pretty brunette -waitress Gabrielle had brought from Paris--impatient, at the table, for -our evening repast. - -"Alfred, we have been waiting for you. Tonight your mother and myself -must go to Briois. There is to be a meeting there of the Protestant -Union, and I am expected to say something on the needs of our -country-side for religious instruction. I hope to be able to bring -about the building of a little church where our people may have the -consolations of their religion;" it was my father speaking. - -"Ah pardon, I _am_ late, but the night is heavenly, and the spring -comes on divinely. I have been just now towards Briois, and I could -have walked, I think, on to La Ferté without fatigue. My legs do -improve in these pleasant days, and the warmth stirs my blood. I am -glad, father, you will have a church. Are you sure it is best to build -it in St. Choiseul?" I answered. - -"Why not, Alfred?" asked mother. - -"Well there are not so many here who would need it and _pas d'abeilles -pas de miel;_" I said laughing. - -"But, Alfred, we are to have a new visitor to live with us in -St. Choiseul, a rich man from Bordeaux, who is a leader of our -congregations there. He is too what the English call, an exhorter, _un -homme qui exhorte_; very eloquent, a great preacher in his way. If the -church is built in our village he will help us, and then it might be -that he will be willing to be our pastor too. He is a relative of _le -Capitaine_, and now he has suffered a great sorrow. His daughter--the -apple of his eye--died on the same day that Blanchette left us, _nous -laissait_. The captain begged him to come to St. Choiseul, and he -consented. It will be good for the captain, good for St. Choiseul--good -for all of us. Is it not so?" - -"Yes, mother," said Gabrielle, and she leaned towards her with her -gentle smile of reassurance--there had been growing between sister and -myself, and our parents, since Blanchette's death, a severer feeling of -religious estrangement--"It _will_ be good. I have heard Père Grandin. -I heard him in the wards of the hospital, and he is a good man, -_parlant le plus beau? français avec une voix délicieuse_." - -Mother and father were delighted; it was a great surprise, and during -our evening meal we talked of nothing else than the coming of Père -Grandin. They asked Gabrielle about him with an increasing pleasure, -as they saw how really admiring sister was of the excellent man's -skill and sweetness. It was a pleasant time, and in the domestic glow -of confidence, that the Père Grandin would become an instrument of -propitiation, rather than of discord, while Julie placed before us one -of Hortense's masterpieces--_chefs d'oeuvres_--_le ragout de mouton_, -with garnishments of peppers and haricots, with her hot cakes--_pains -de seigle_--and the melting _chou-fleur_ and the inspiriting Burgundy, -we bloomed, so to say, into a renewed affection. It was admirable. I -recall it--shall I ever forget that wondrous night?--almost as if it -had been a moment ago. I was soothed and quieted, and the rising frenzy -of my blood subsided, and a most ingratiating blissfulness invaded me, -and we lingered long at the table. Gabrielle was so gay and reminiscent -it seemed as if she loved the hospital, now she was well free of it, -and, as I listened in astonishment, I slowly realized that Gabrielle -was responding to some hidden elation, and that--Was it her ecstacy -to show me her strange power? Ah, yes, there was, too, her gladness -that mother and father were to be away that night, and so--_Voila, la -diablerie sans bornes!_ Bah, I will confess I was displeased, and felt -a little disgusted amazement at Gabrielle. - -An hour later our parents were tucked in the cabriolet, the short -snapping strokes of the horse's hoofs passed away into silence, and -Gabrielle and I were alone. We faced each other as the door closed, -and Gabrielle seized my arm, and speaking very slowly, with her face -covered by her other hand, with all her late show of spirits vanished, -said: - -"Alfred, I feel the power; it thrills me. I cannot explain, but as the -time comes on, I am crowded with a multitude--_un essaim_--of motions -within me, as if I might be slowly dissolved into air, or something -else light and floating. You thought that I was careless at dinner. -I know, I watched your eyes. You thought I was glad that father and -mother were going away, so that I could show you my power when I call -Blanchette (I shuddered) back to meet you. But that was not true. I -felt disengaged and well, most well, and my heart was contented. There -was no deception, no guiltiness as of escaping detection. None, I was -myself, that was all. And Alfred I shall _tell_ father and mother. Why -not?" at my gesture of discouragement. - -"Gabrielle, promise me you will reveal nothing about this to anyone, -until I have consented. Remember--_the Hospital_. Father and mother -will be appalled. They cannot understand as I do your mysticism--and -then, who knows what the power leads to? Be silent." - -My sister lifted her face, and stared almost stealthily into my -eyes. I, the _soi-disant_ critic of her "delusions"--that was my -word, was now masking her concealment, and urging her to continued -secrecy, intending--what did she think?--to use her potency for the -gratification of my mad cravings?--to make her the servile means of -communication with Blanchette, more and more, that thus my awakened -desires might be stilled with the apparitional image of possession? - -I did not answer the mute question. I could not. An unopposed, a sudden -quenchless need of Blanchette, frustrated all honesty of speech, -and I really caught at, snatched, the proffered chance--_diablerie_ -or no _diablerie_--to see again the face, the form, the flesh--Was -it indeed materialization as the mediumistic parlance had it?--of -Blanchette. The more I thought of it, the more I coveted the vision. -Its quality should be tested. That I swore. And my connivance became -more cautious. We would try nothing, until Hortense and Julie had -retired. A sudden tension of almost ravenous expectancy rose within me, -utterly surprising, and _now_, I was the exhilarator, and prompter, -and accomplice, more desirous, more credulous, than Gabrielle herself. -The delay for _the thing_ to begin seemed insufferable, but there must -be no interruption, and the sceptic, the half believer, the moderating -protestant, at the unreasonableness and danger of the indulgence, -moved now in its preparation with an unresisting acceptance of its -realization, hungry for its fulfillment, every scruple banished! - -"Gabrielle, go to your room. We will not begin until Hortense and -Julie have gone to bed; then, when the house is all ours," my voice -was strained and unnatural, and perhaps my features were themselves -distorted with excitement, for Gabrielle slightly withdrew from me, -"then, let us go to the library, and there we will unite our minds and -hearts, and--_bring Blanchette back_!" - -Only a violent self-control withheld my tongue from shouting the -words, so monstrously grew within me the insatiable passion for -the coveted design, a passion, half orgiastic, half a maddened -curiosity, and within which, I know now, not a trace of spiritual -feeling, or aspirations, or tenderness, or beauty, reigned, or had a -part. So variously are we composed, and thus from the waters of our -souls, when stirred, or clouded, darkened by the overturning prods -of the rebellious body, which disturb its slimy sediments, rise -the exhalations of unworthy motives. In that instant, as I waited -afterwards for the hour agreed upon for our nocturnal incantations--the -word suits the debased frame of my mind--just one overpowering -conception ruled my heart, the possibility of clasping Blanchette to -my breast as a physical presentment. Whither had flown the beautiful -boundless dreams of our beatific, immaterial union, bathed in the -everlasting lights of celestial choirs? Alas--whither? - -It was about eleven o'clock, when Gabrielle tapped at the door between -our rooms, and I opened it. Gabrielle had changed her dress somewhat. -She had put on a dark serge gown that fitted quite closely, and she had -opened the waist at the throat slightly, and discarded all collar. The -sleeves closed about the wrists; in her hair, loosely piled up above -her temples, were three silver combs, and they formed the only light -touch in her apparel. We both wore slippers, as almost instinctively -the association of lightness and noiselessness with the work in hand -came to my mind. We said nothing, but passed out of my room, and -stepped swiftly down the stairway to the library. I glanced out of -the window hastily, and found the sky clear, mistily studded with the -stars, and with strips of cloud strung along the western limits of the -firmament. - -Gabrielle asked me to light the lamp for a minute's instruction; -otherwise we would proceed in complete darkness; that she averred was -best. I lit the lamp, and was a little disturbed by Gabrielle's pallor -which in the yellow light of the lamp appeared deathly. I asked her if -she felt unwell. She smiled and said, "No, not at all," and then she -motioned me to a seat near her, at the centre of the room, where she -had chosen a chair, quite detached from any other article of furniture. -Behind her were simply the unillumined corners of the apartment. I sat -down and waited for her instructions, which however I fully understood -as the manner of this seance had been in words rehearsed between us. - -"Alfred, take my hands in your own, and bend your forehead forward upon -my knees, and then just THINK of Blanchette, and remain so, no matter -how long it seems. When the soul of Blanchette comes it will be light, -but do not release my hands." - -I recall the absolute precision of certainty in Gabrielle's words, -in her voice, and then that she leaned back, shut her eyes, and just -perceptibly drew her shoulders upward, while her lips moved as if in -prayer. I put out the light. I pressed her hands in mine; they were -supremely warm, and soft, and unresisting, and then I knelt and bowed -my head and--endowed, as I have in this narrative many times intimated, -some visualizing or occult force--brought to my eyes the very figure, -color, expression, and voice of the dead girl. It was not so much a -feeling of solemnity--that does not express it at all--as a feeling -of mystery, of indefinite approach towards the incredible, with the -mingled half delirious anticipations in myself of actually again seeing -the live Blanchette, that held me rigid. - -At length Gabrielle's fingers twitched slightly, and she half -released them, but I held them tightly, and then Gabrielle seemed to -be murmuring aloud. I still held my face downwards, forcing to my -eyes the image of Blanchette, recalling her voice, and straining my -mind outward as it were, in my effort to impress all of this upon -Gabrielle. The voice of my sister grew slightly louder, and the words -were at intervals coherent and intelligible, and then I lifted my head. - -At first I could see nothing but soon I became conscious of some -diffused light or glow, a kind of absorbed brightness, as if it -escaped from the darkness itself, perhaps faintly bluish. It arrested -my attention, and the thought of Blanchette died away as I actually -saw the brightness increase around me. It was a strange indescribable -light. It was not only seen by the eyes; it was felt by the mind, -if I may put it that way. Looking more cautiously and intently it -became evident that it lay in lines proceeding through the blackness -of the room, from a point somewhere at our side, and it still grew -slowly stronger, with a soft interior palpitation, as if the source -of the emanations pulsed regularly, sending out the luminous streams -in waves. With this increasing intensity--though intensity hardly -expresses it, it was so vaguely dispersed and yet obviously confined in -radial directions--with the increasing intensity, the mental influence -deepened also, and it was only by a supreme effort that I retained my -position. - -The inclination with me was to allow myself to float, from the -unmistakable sense of buoyancy that invaded all my body, and with -that came to my sensorium a most peculiar incomputable sensation of -diffusion. I cannot put it into words. It felt like a dissolution, -as if the material substance of which I was composed were undergoing -dispersion or extension, and the solvent was this strengthening light. -But the sensation was also peculiarly delightful so that, while you -felt yourself as it were vanishing, there was no sickness of fear with -it, nor any, the slightest, physical resistance. I feel certain it was -the prelude to unconsciousness. Some residual wakefulness, springing -from my curiosity, saved me from the invited surrender, and I slowly -rose to my feet, still holding Gabrielle's hands. - -Then I looked at my sister, and, so it seemed, in that gloom there had -developed around her head a half nebulous curtain or aureole of light -also, which, in its turn, was emitting the peculiar light beams. It was -at that moment I dropped her hands, that had become almost lifeless to -my feeling. In an instant the previous sense of dematerialization left -me, and with a shock, absurdly like the flying back of widely distended -or separated limbs, I became keenly conscious, and concretely centered. -I remember the faint thrill of amusement that this _réassemblage_ -caused to me. And now--there was not much desire on my part to be -ratiocinative--the other point, the emergent initial centre of the -emanations grew, not only brighter, but greatly larger, and I divined -with a sudden consternation of heart, that there were forming before me -the outlines of a human figure. I shrank backward for an instant, and -for an instant only, and then bent forward and moved forward with the -increasing light, for now the adjutant centres--that about the evolving -apparition, and that around my sister--both increased, filling my eyes -with the radiance, and yet administering no particular illumination to -the objects in the room. These latter were perhaps more visible than -they had been. That I think was incontestable, but the light might have -been described as self-centered, in this sense, that it was entirely -refluent on its source and confined in its illuminating effect to that. - -And now--I lost sight of everything else, so concentrated was my -thought upon the spectacle--the light to the side and in the depth -of the room expanded rapidly, and the shape that it made was that -of a naked phosphorescent figure, whose configuration, while it was -discerned, was not really revealed, so bathed it seemed to be in the -billowy light that encumbered it, and yet exposed it. Only the arms -of the figure escaped that luminous envelope, and, stretching outward -beyond it, put on the semblance of white flesh. I put my hand to my -head. It was wet with the dew of perspiration, that may have been the -sweat of amazement, or of excitement. - -The intention so dearly formed of seizing my restored Blanchette -died away before this immaculate phenomenon, for in it there dawned -no reminiscence of the earthly charm I had called by that name. -That loveliness whose perishable garb of color and of matter I had -worshipped was not suggested here; the showery lightness that seemed -tremulous with a thousand interior responses had its wonderfulness -indeed, but it only left me wonder-stricken. Neither did it appall me. -I became chilled into immobility, although every nerve was shaking -with the impressed realization of a miracle. I was standing before the -resurrected DEAD. - -Whether it was this thought or the resuscitated passion of my -heart, rebelling against the incandescent splendor, I do not know, -but I suddenly stepped towards the scintillating object and spoke: -"Blanchette! Blanchette! Blanchette!" My voice was instinct with the -note of human passion, the earthly cry of love for the reality of -warmth, and softness, and breath, and fragrance, the concomitants of -the living body--and, as my words were repeated, and again repeated, -and my arms were outstretched, while my face, bathed in the sepulchral -light, perhaps might have showed my yearning, this marvellous and -stupendous reality occurred: - -The phosphorescent configuration with the extended arms grew paler -and paler, and as its extreme blurry splendor died away, there sprang -forward from within it, the real similitude of Blanchette, a pallid -figure of light, and in it the dear face of the girl, tender, divinely, -to my eyes, beautiful, with now a compassionate wistfulness of -prettiness, O! so faintly expressed, in the dim radiance that seemed -yet to stream with undulous waves through the room from the relaxed, -motionless body of my sister. And--so it appeared to me--the figure -advanced towards me with the same outstretched arms, with which I -leaped forward to receive it. - -I clasped the empty air and fell headlong in a convulsion, that rattled -my very bones, while sharp strokes of pain severed my muscles, and -throbs, like the intermittent knocks of a hammer, beat within my brain. -It was an utterly unnatural collapse; the strained attitude of the -last few hours, with the previous anticipation--unsuspectingly untying -the resistance of my nerves--did not clearly explain it. There was -something else. I was still quite conscious and, more than that, I was -wrathful with disappointment, as if caught in a trick of deception, the -hocus-pocus of a mere _niaiserie_. My eyes watched the faded spot of -light from which the transfiguration had started. It actually flitted -unevenly for some moments over my fallen body, and then it moved -slowly--now contracted into a mere ball of luminosity--towards my yet -unawakened sister. There it increased in brilliancy, and the former -glowing outline, with the resumed extended arms, reappeared, and then -came the last denouement. In an instant there was a flashing collision -between the light of the vision and the light, seemingly emitted by my -sister, when the entire room became vivid with light--everything seen, -with absolutely nothing there but my sister and myself, and then the -darkness again more profound by contrast, and swimming--the word is -exactly descriptive--upward, and then sideways a ball, a mere star, of -brightness, sparkled for one second in the fire-place, and vanished. - -There was no sound, there had not been an audible word, and now there -was the undisturbed apartment with myself spread out in pain on the -floor, and my sister still in her unbroken trance. I struggled to my -feet and seized Gabrielle's hands and drew her up. She awoke, dazed, -and also in pain, standing at my side in a benumbed speechless way -that startled me. I lit the lamp hurriedly, and led her to the couch, -where she again fell into unconsciousness. I chafed her hands. I wet -her temples. Finally she slowly responded to the treatment, and I was -able to lead her to her room. She had by that time become normal, but -reticent and oppressed, and begged me to leave. I went away. - -My own distress lasted some hours, but slowly improved, the jolts -of pain growing less, and at longer intervals, and succumbing to my -complete restoration. - -The next day found Gabrielle and myself talking in the garden at the -same spot where we had conceived of the seance; we had both been almost -feverishly waiting the opportunity to rehearse our experience. We met -almost as if by agreement, walking down the garden, on opposite sides -at the same time, as to a _rendez-vous_. - -I related everything to Gabrielle as I had seen it, and asked her about -her own experience. I said, "Gabrielle, I think that it is best not to -indulge this power of yours any longer. It was a disappointment every -way, and the results only unhealthy and stupid." - -"Alfred," she replied, "I have often brought back the spirits of the -dead, not by my own will but because they came to me willingly, and it -has never hurt me. It seemed a delight rather, and the sensations were -blissful. But it was all different last night. It was spoiled somehow. -There was some discord, something improper in our thoughts--_in yours_, -_Alfred_?" - -"Gabrielle, just what happened to yourself, when you fell away in the -trance?" - -"I seemed to be rising upward on wings, with sunny lights shining upon -me, and the endless shimmering of spirit bodies about me, and then came -a darkness with a despairing feeling of loneliness and of desertion, -and then a slow, consuming pain until you waked me." - -"Gabrielle, have you ever actually seen the spirits? Were they, as the -jargon goes, materialized before your eyes?" - -"Not exactly, perhaps. They came to me in my sleep, but I have -indeed--so it seems to me--awakened and found the air about me filled -with shapes. They did not last, wavering away with swingings this way -and that, but their faces smiled as they went off, and a low pleasant -light remained; that too gently--_doucement_--fading away." - -We walked slowly back again towards the house, quite silent. I, buried -in a reverie of self-dissatisfaction, Gabrielle doubtless in one of -afflicted wonder. At length I said, stopping abruptly, and turning -Gabrielle towards me, as I often did, with my two hands clasping her -shoulders, "Gabrielle, let us agree to banish these practices. It may -cost you an effort, but I believe it is best for both of us. We shall -lose our wits with these devilments." Gabrielle resented that, and her -face showed her protest. "Well, not that exactly," I added quickly, -"let us call them illusions. Some scientific wiseacres call them -_hypnagogic_ illusions. It is not altogether normal and reasonable -and--" I hesitated a moment, and Gabrielle added, "You mean improper, -unhealthy, unsafe?" - -"Yes I mean all that, and then I think by some occultism we cannot -define, or even recognize, they will torment us, and actually drag us -into lunacy." - -"Alfred, did you see Blanchette?" - -"Why, yes, I saw something that brought her distinctly before me for an -instant--but, Gabrielle," I was ashamed to betray my hope for some sort -of bodily incarnation, "it was only a madness of the brain--only that." - -"But, Alfred, you did see the light; they always come in -light-clouds--_les voiles de lumière_." - -"Oh, yes, I saw the shining figure--so it seemed--and the light, -Gabrielle, that seemed to stream from your head in rays. All -that I saw, but whether it was an actual light, or some infernal -hallucination, or just some mesmeric phenomena, and we both were -asleep, I fear to say. But it has left me queerly disgusted and -upset. At any rate I will have nothing more to do with it--nothing. -My work (Redaction of the Code Législatif for Court Practice) will -be interfered with, and then perhaps my poor brain will leave me -altogether." - -We laughed, and at length Gabrielle answered, liberating herself from -my hold and musingly watching the sparrows twittering and flying -spasmodically in swarms from the thicketed ampelopsis on the house. Her -voice was low, and its accent firm, and half persuasive too. - -"Alfred, I will go half way. I will do nothing to bring back the -visions, but if they come I shall not scare them away. And as for -séances--well, we both have had all we want of them. Eh?" - -"Truly Gabrielle, I think that if we continued these visitations, if -they are that, it would be with us as it was with Argan in _Le Malade -Imaginaire_, who was threatened by Dr. Purgan, you know, after a long -line of disorders, _avec la privation de la vie, ou nous aura conduit -notre folie_." - -I never again spoke about the spirits to Gabrielle. I grew strangely -fearful of them, the thought of them made me shudder--until the war -brought upon us the awful visitation that I have written this book to -describe, and which--Well, what it did is now the common knowledge of -the world. Nor did Gabrielle allude to them until the gathering terrors -of the dead broke her silence. And to describe that moment and its -undreamed of marvels, its vast resurrections from the holocausts of -the battle fields, the fathomless panorama of the endless dead, with -the stupefying and convulsing climax of the horrid warfare, choked by -their immitigable hosts, is now my dangerous and difficult task. - - * * * * * - -Father and mother returned from Briois most radiant over their success. -Père Grandin was superb, a wonderful man, _un homme de sagesse, de -piété, et, ma Foi, un homme des affaires; enfin, un homme eloquent et -fin aussi_. He would come to St. Choiseul, and it was certain that Père -Grandin and Père Antoine would get on well together. - -The spring was all about us; each day added to the charm of the -country-side and the gardens of St. Choiseul grew gayer and gayer with -the snowy and carmine splendor of the tulips, the purple glories of the -hyacinth, the blossoming trails of periwinkle, leading at last to the -zenith loveliness of the blushing roses, when St. Choiseul sent its -fragrant breath far and wide over the green meadows, and far into the -thick-set and shadowed woods. - -The _bienséance_ of nature was seen too in the overflowing happiness -of the country, its peace and increasing wealth, with the flow towards -it of the gracious friendliness of the peoples, and the establishment -among us of the pure principles of liberty. Indeed we were all gay. -Privat Deschat's hideous predictions that evening so long ago--how long -ago it indeed seemed, as if in another age; that was before I went -to America--were all forgotten, or if recalled just laughed at--and -yet there had been the Agadir affair and there had been disturbances -in Alsace and cruel muttering elsewhere; the Cassagnac matter and -the German correspondents. But that was nothing--_une bagatelle -simplement_--and so the bright years rolled along, braided with -delights, illustrious with hopes, serene with gifts, not altogether -free from acquiescent tears, while the inevitable CALAMITY came closer -and closer, and like a thunderbolt crashed suddenly from the peaceful -skies, and darkened all the world with its despair and misery. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE WAR - - -Père Grandin very soon became a favorite, and not the least devoted of -his friends was Père Antoine, our village priest. The temper of the -two men was most congenial, and the fervor of their love of goodness, -their common age, a certain sweet complacency in the joyousness of life -and in the complete mercy of God, wedded them to each other, and so -into our intimate circle of friends Père Antoine, through the mediation -of Père Grandin was joined, and both father and mother thus grew more -sympathetic and permissive with Gabrielle and myself, and the days -flowed smoothly, and the years followed each other joyously. - -I became more and more interested in the work I had undertaken, and, -under the pressure of its laborious needs, with frequent visits to -Paris, found my time admirably occupied, while I was not too busy to -omit the recreations of the home life with our friends. Above all -caressed by my dear sister, whose companionship I now more and more -delighted in, I was growing, perhaps by a premature decline of animal -spirits, into a bachelor, whose inmost heart still kept unimpaired -the image and hope of his first love. That indeed dwelt with me -perpetually, and by the platonic resuscitation of its enjoyment -administered literally to my physical contentment. - -There was in my library an English book written by an American -authoress in which I came upon this sentence (the book was sent to me -by a Texan acquaintance after I had left America): "there were hours -when she felt that any bitter personal past--that the recollection -of a single despairing kiss or a blighted love would have filled her -days with happiness. What she craved was the conscious dignity of a -broken heart--some lofty memory that she might rest upon in her hour of -weakness." - -The philosophy and the psychology of the paragraph are profoundly true. -That relationship which sex seems inexorably to claim is satisfied -naturally by union, but its omission finds exoneration at least in the -remembrance of disappointment. I grew with each succeeding year more -and more sedately complacent, and a gravity of thought, deepened by a -pleasant melancholy, mingled with the real consolations of religion and -the inseparable charm of my sister and kept me composed and evenly--at -times almost jubilantly--happy. My work was attracting some attention, -and it promised for me continued and congenial employment. - -We had many garden parties with Privat Deschat and Capitaine -Bleu-Pistache--growing more feeble now, more silent, with often -unbidden tears springing to his eyes--and Quintado and Père Grandin and -Père Antoine--though he was not so often with us--and the sweet-voiced -and sparkling little orphan girl the captain had adopted--Dora Destin, -a vivacious creature with delicate ways and a keen appetite for tarts -and pastry, and a peculiar shyness that came and went so oddly, that -one instant she might be hiding, as if afraid, and the next leaping -amongst us like a bird. Mother and father had become in the later -years even graver, and a calmness--I dreaded to believe that it meant -some interior failing--descended upon them, that made their ways a -little embarrassing at times. We all noted it. It was a presage, a -shadow. They were silent in company, and once or twice, I thought--this -was just a year before the War--father seemed unconscious of his -surroundings; his mind wandered and he kept saying "_Alfred_, _Alfred_" -to me, as if dazed or grieved. The stealthy hand of Paralysis thus -crept slowly forward towards its unescapable conclusion. - -Of course Gabrielle was in our parties, and she had become to me the -concentrated bliss of my living. Her growth into a healthier condition -of mind and body had accompanied an increasing adaptability to company, -and while the reserved manner remained, bestowing upon her a fine -dignity, she was truly sociable and friendly. Gabrielle never quite -outgrew the secretive habit of her thoughtfulness, and her deportment -had been criticized and found fault with, as cold and austere. The -inference would have been cruelly unjust, for never breathed a kinder -and more devotedly good heart than my sister possessed. Her abstracted -way often arose from the custom of religious meditation, and I suppose -too was influenced by that singular supernatural--to call it so--power -that she always felt, but now, so far as I knew, seldom exercised. It -was that power that made of her the MEDIATRIX of the nations. - -It was hardly fifteen years after my return that the Grown Prince of -Austria was shot in Sarajevo in Serbia, and that was on the day of -the _Grand Prix de Paris_. I read the news to Gabrielle, and Père -Grandin was there. He had taken dinner with us. How well I remember his -terror-stricken face. He pushed his spectacles up over his high white -forehead, and his bright eyes glowed strangely with a growing fear. His -expressive lips twitched almost as if he were in pain, and he lifted up -his hands in protestation. - -"God forbid. The blow has fallen then. The bolt shot. Alfred, this is -the torch that starts the conflagration. The material--all inflammable, -all explosive--has been heaped up between the nations, and, like a -fierce _feu-de-joie_ it will kindle into a wall of fire--_un rideau de -feu_--between the countries. God save France!" - -I was incredulous as were at the time most people. I laughed at -the good man's warning, and because he felt half grieved at my -carelessness, half stifled with apprehension as if almost--so he put -it--his ears were filling already with the rumble of cannon, he begged -our pardon for his distress. He put on his crumpled Panama hat and -stood at the doorway, almost irresolute in his trepidation and sadness. -He looked at me quite long. - -I recall the moon riding high in white drifting vapors that came in -from Calais--and in the changing light and shade he seemed almost -preternaturally pale and sombre. - -"_Mon patrie_," he sighed, "again the ravage, the desolation, the -orphaned, the widowed, the crippled, the sick, the breaking hearts--Ah, -Ah--" and seizing my hands as if in support in his agitation, he wept. - -"But Père Grandin" I said, now thoroughly alarmed over his evident -agony, "surely you are too quick, too hasty. Europe is at peace. Its -people are reasonably happy. They will not permit war, and--" - -I got no further. The old man was choking with emotion--it was half -wrath, half despair. - -"Permit it? Can they stop it? Do they govern? Is it not kings and -princes and royal houses and titled ministers, the tyrants of opinion, -the caprice or the pride or the selfishness of aristocrats, that -control everything? - -"See, they prance by us, unseeing, unthoughtful, just living for -themselves, and then when the crash comes--the crash they have prepared -with their silly talk of national honor, national enlargement, national -continuity, racial union, destiny, putting over it all a gorgeous -light of promised glory--just as the heroes in a stage play walk and -stand in the glare of the electric lantern from the gallery, uttering -bombast--when the crash comes, they summon the troops, they dragoon -the people, they empty the banks, they crack the whip of urgency, and, -pointing to the flag, drive us in hecatombs to death. - -"No, no, Alfred--the war will come. I have long felt its growing -tremors. We cultivate revenge in our hearts, the Germans cultivate -hate, the Cossacks conquest, the Austrians dynasty, the Englishmen -trade-money, their assumed preeminence, and there have been cabals -and understandings, and a jolt snaps the artifice of our pretended -brotherhood and, with hoof and claw, we fly at each other's throats. -Bah--_vous verrez_." - -His rage had restored his strength, and he stumbled away muttering and -gesticulating. I watched him going across the roadway in the light -that danced with the swinging lanterns when the night wind from the -distant shores blew more strongly. The disks and outlines of shadows -imparted to him a peculiar effect of unsteadiness. I half thought he -staggered. - -I went back to the library. There I found Gabrielle leaning over the -paper I had flung down at the old man's outburst, and reading of the -assassination. She looked up as I returned, and her face was white, and -in her eyes too I saw an awful consternation. I was impatient with this -foolishness, and expostulated loudly. - -"What, Gabrielle, are you too imbecile? Père Grandin is in a panic. -Why? He sees us fighting already--just because the heir to a crown is -shot. It's absurd--_pas vraisemblable_." - -"Alfred, I think we should not be too sure. It all looks bad to me, -and--if it comes. What?" - -Her eyes dilated with terror. - -"Why, Gabrielle, have we not prepared ourselves for just this! Besides -we have allies now--it is not as it was in 1870. There is England, -there is Russia. _Sacre nom_, it will be as when Greek meets Greek--not -_comme les vautours et les pigeons_." - -"Ah, Alfred, think of the suffering. O! I have seen suffering in the -hospitals, but a whole nation to be made into one huge hospital. _Mon -Dieu, c'est incroyable!_" - -"Wait, Gabrielle. Don't borrow trouble. The world cannot afford war -now. _La Guerre est un peu passée aujourd'hui. Eh?_" - -"Alfred, the devil is never sick, and never tired, and never asleep." - -That night the news was confirmed. Then came Austria's demands; and -then a chasing hither and thither of couriers; the wires hot with -messages; lights in the embassies all night; rage, dismay; in the -cities the people silent or cheering in the streets; houses closed or -hidden in flags; in the ministries forebodings; feverish despatches; -and almost always hopelessness. Peace was impossible; everywhere the -"mailed fist"--_poing armée_--of the Kaiser. Then came Austria's -declaration of war against Servia on July 29th. The detonation was at -hand which would burst Europe asunder. - -Capitaine Bleu-Pistache asked me to go to Paris at once, so did -Père Grandin, so did Privat Deschat, and although father and mother -seemed listless about it I, thoroughly awake now to the disaster, was -impatient to visit the capital, and see how things were going. But -Gabrielle did not wish me to go. - -"Alfred, is it not best to hear the news here? You cannot enlist. -Alfred you know that is impossible." She suddenly checked herself. I -knew her thought, and my cheeks grew crimson--my weakness and physical -deficiency now cut me off from service--"No, Alfred it was not that, -not that," her embarrassment brought tears to her eyes. "No not that, -but I am afraid of some danger. Now it is everywhere, an explosion, a -chance shot, a street quarrel. Alfred let me go too." - -"Gabrielle I shall be quite safe. I shall be O! so very timid." - -She smiled. - -"Not so timid alone Alfred, as if I were there too." - -"Nonsense Gabrielle, is it not written, _la femme fait le coeur -intrépide_. But really it would be very foolish for you to come. Watch -here. I will be so careful." - -She seemed inconsolable, so I promised to write daily. - -Père Grandin wished all the papers sent to him, and the captain, the -pictures, illustrations, prints, anything that would _speak_ rather -than _tell_--so he put it. And Privat Deschat whispered, "Alfred Lupin, -you remember my prophecy of more than twenty years ago. I have said -nothing about it--_rien_. But Lupin, if by a chance you can kill a -Dutchman or even come by a dead one bring me his two ears." - -"Privat," I almost shouted, "by all means--but Why?" - -"Alfred," Deschat tossed his big head this side and that as a mastif -might, coming out of the water, "I would dry them hard, tan them, and -wear them as tassels on my smoking cap, _mon chapeau de fumée_." - -Père Antoine was the last man I saw in St. Choiseul. I left for Briois -in the cabriolet in the evening, and with all of my adieus at home -over I had settled back in my seat, in a gloomy meditation upon the -frightful turn in events, and with some compunctions too over my own -indiscreet skepticism as to its possibility. My face was buried in the -nosegay Gabrielle had pressed into my hands--I see her now standing in -the doorway where the light from the hall flung around her the aureole -of its pale illumination--and my thoughts grew each moment more sombre, -when the carriage was abruptly stopped, and I heard the voice of Père -Antoine speaking to the driver. - -I recognized the father at once, and delightedly welcomed the -interruption; my own sombreness threatened a positive _malaise_. - -"Father, you here? Step into the carriage. I am on my way to Briois, -and then by train to Paris. My friends--yours too--wanted me to go and -I am impatient to watch things nearer the focus." - -"Ah, my child" answered the benignant man, now seated beside me, "what -new horrors does it all mean? I tremble for religion. I know the -sneers that will be flung at FAITH. Where, where, they will cry, is -this merciful GOD?--and as the misery rises, their cry will seem to -have its justification. But surely God is in the storm as well as in -the quiet dawn? If the war really breaks out then it leads to larger -things--all in the scheme and providence of the Almighty." - -"Father we must hope and pray that the worst cannot happen." - -"Yes my son, but we must be also submissive. We must not fix in our -prayers the stubbornness of expectation. What comes we must accept as -the work of God. There can be no reservations in our acknowledgment of -the immediate and uninterrupted immanence of the divine POWER. Let us -simply trust." - -I murmured disheartedly: - - _Ici tout meurt, la fleur, l'été, - La jeunesse et la vie._ - -The good man pressed my hands, and as we drew near to the lights in the -station I saw his pained and overflowing eyes. - - * * * * * - -I came into Paris at the Gare d'Orsay on August first. Mobilization -began the next day and when I reached the Place de l'Opéra crowds of -young men were marching in the streets, crying, almost shrieking, -"_Vive la France_." Girls along the balconies and from the windows -showered flowers on them. In other streets groups of young men were -singing the Marseillaise, and waving the flags of France and Russia -and England. It was fiercely exciting, and when at last my eagerness -broke all restraint I joined some of them--my limp was no hindrance -there--and almost forgot my destination, drinking in the elixir of -patriotism for a few delirious moments. - -It was the next day (August third) that I hurried to my -publisher's--Avenue de l'Alma--and found him with his family about him, -disordered in dress, and dismally grave. It was M. Albert Yvette. He -welcomed me with effusion, and resolved to take me to the Chamber of -Deputies where the premier M. Viviani would speak on the situation. -That would be the next day, and for the moment we would go over some -copy as a temporary distraction from the mind-blighting crisis which -had overcome the country. M. Yvette had four sons, two of whom had -already joined the colors, and three exquisite daughters, two young -girls, and the third a married woman, who in this extremity had -united her family with her father's, and added to his own overflowing -_famille_ three boys--_joufflus et bruants_--so that there was no lack -of excitement; conversation and predictions too. - -On August first Jaures the socialist leader had been assassinated, and -yet this monstrous assault failed to arouse national dissension. Yvette -said it was significant. France was as one man and an undivided nation -would frustrate the enemy. - -We all agreed, but the coming test promised to be a severe one. The -news that came in from the advancing Germans was not welcome, and -showed the organization of a powerful attack. Yvette was confident -that even the "spray," as he termed it, of the Teutonic wave would not -reach us. I did not think so. Paris was in danger. Madame Yvette became -tremulous and the daughters were in tears. Then came the news, flashed -through the streets as if by a magnetic sympathy, answering the popular -suspense, that England had declared war upon Germany. This was most -cheering, and the days before France seemed less threatening. - -We attended the session of the Chamber of Deputies. It was inspiring. -The English and Russian ambassadors sat together, and the Chamber -awaited the proceedings in complete silence. A tribute to the dead -socialist Jaures was delivered by M. Paul Deschanel. It was eloquent, -and the resounding shout that greeted the declaration that with France -"there are no more adversaries; there are only Frenchmen," thrilled -everyone present by its vociferous unanimity. Then followed the speech -of the Premier M. Viviani, who read his address, punctuated by repeated -cries of "_Vive la France_," and when he concluded with the phrase, -uttered in a tone of metallic defiance, "We are without reproach. We -shall be without fear," the Chamber went mad, and the walls sent back -the billows of sound, as the air above the heads of the deputies became -white with waving handkerchiefs and papers. - -Yvette was overcome with his feelings, and I led him from the room -trembling with emotion. - -The next day Yvette appeared greatly refreshed, and suggested almost -jocosely that we should together "_parcourir la ville_." I gladly -assented. I craved this intimacy with the dramatic incidents of the -moment, and was only too anxious to record some vivid impression of the -city under this terrifying menace. That was August sixth, and we walked -or rode all of the day. At night Paris was silent and dark, the streets -almost deserted, and the soldiery watchful. - -The dressmakers and milliners on the Rue de la Paix--the irony of the -name grimly diverted us--were almost all shut up, and the street was a -long dull succession of iron shutters. We saw women on the street cars -(tramways). Along the Boulevard des Capucines our eyes were astonished -by a drove of a hundred cows being driven through that avenue; the -papers were sold in immense numbers, and the lively trade in them -brought boys, girls, women, and old men from the suburbs to share in -the momentary activity. Everywhere we saw the momentous enthusiasm and -determination of the people, and any appearance of troops entrained for -the frontier started the wildest applause. - -Paris has been for an instant stunned by the spell of a terrible -apprehension, that quickly succumbed to a returning wave of excited, -indignant, overwhelming patriotism. I felt that the actual danger as a -fear vanished in the tremendous reaction of rage and resolution. Its -industries are crippled, its hilarity suppressed, and the many hued -veil of joy and enjoyment that enveloped it like a cloud, has been torn -aside, only to reveal the underlying hardihood and substance of manhood -and devotion. - -It looked finely, but I could not now shake off the terror of my -mind over the Germanic rush onward. I intuitively felt that their -devastating passage southward from Belgium would stretch far into -France, and if arrested at all must be parried or flung back by -the concentrated energy of the French and English armies, before -its irresistible massiveness assumed such proportions as to become -immovable and impregnable. I began to fear for St. Choiseul, and -was anxious to return. M. Yvette pressed me to remain a few days -longer, and as I had despatched all of my commissions--papers to -Privat Deschat, and pictures to the captain, and letters every day to -Gabrielle and Père Antoine--I assented. - -Each succeeding day manifested the overturn in the domestic and routine -days of the great city. The morning breakfast rolls had gone because -the bakers are with the army, and families are supplied only with -_boulot_ and _demi-fendu_, but the supply is irregular, and the girls -go after both the bread and the milk. In a hundred ways the national -emergency is felt in the family, apart from the departure of sons, -and the even retinue of service has been disarranged, with amusing -consequences. Lines were formed before the provision shops in the -mornings. - -On August eighth good news was received, and the quickly revived -spirits of the city became apparent in the crowded streets, with a -noticeable resumption of gayety. I went to church, leaving the Yvettes -home. The church was filled to repletion, and there was a large -proportion of men. The service was well rendered, and the preacher -touched upon the one thing uppermost in all minds, and admonished -faith, courage, and prayer. As the congregation emerged from the -portals of the church, the Marseillaise was heard from a near-by -street, and, like a spark conveyed to combustibles, the surging mass -broke out with song. It was a convulsion of fervor that made one almost -quail before its immense intensity. - -I took my leave of the Yvettes, who had been charmingly pleasant to -me in their great home, and where the enormous sadness was sensibly -softened by their amiability and courage. That was August fifteenth. -The morning was dark with heavy thunderstorms, and the rain fell -continuously. In the large dining room of the Yvettes, we gathered at -a late breakfast--_une affaire de semi-cuisine à midi_--and, as the -chandeliers were lighted and candles graced the side-board, and the -mantel, and the high square _étagères_, it took on the expression of an -"occasion." M. Yvette said it was my valedictory. I hardly knew what he -meant, but this I know, that that was the last time I saw Yvette, or -any of his splendid family. Yvette died at Bordeaux after the official -evacuation of Paris; his two boys were killed at the battle of the -Marne, and then the widow and the unmarried daughters left the mansion -in the Avenue de l'Alma and lived with Madame Aubray, the married -daughter. I have never seen any of them since. - -We all tried to be cheerful, but the incessant marching of troops in -the city during the last three days occurred to some of us as ominous -of the encroaching and steadily moving Teuton. The conversation was -most disingenuous, touching upon almost anything but the immediate -preoccupations of our minds, and the apparent social _abandon_ masked -the uneasy sense of danger. The only remark that related to the war -was one by myself, to the purpose that the superbly furnished table -offered no suggestions of the possibility of Paris being starved--which -perhaps under the circumstances was a little _maladroit_--and the story -that Madame Aubray repeated, that a Prussian officer speaking French -perfectly, among a group of prisoners at Versailles, met some French -reservists, who passed the convoy singing the Marseillaise, and he -turned to his guard and quickly remarked, "_What a disillusion awaits -us!_" - -M. Yvette accompanied me to the train at the Gare du Nord, and as I -bade him "Farewell," he referred to the familiar and deep impression -made upon everyone of the profound unity of the people, telling me that -the Catholic Abbé Marcadé whose services at Le Bourget had attracted so -much praise, had dined with the officers of the regiment and with the -socialist mayor of the commune. He added, "I tell you, M. Lupin, the -cementation of France is extraordinary. National cohesion has made us -incompressible." - -"Ah," I answered as I stepped into the almost empty train, "remember, -M. Yvette, there is also such a calamity as pulverization." - -My spirits had undergone a complete change since my talk with Père -Grandin, and a gnawing feeling of hopelessness tormented me. - -But how inexpressibly sweet it all was at St. Choiseul, and in the -lovely and beloved country about it, as I walked along the familiar -road from Briois, with the scent of the meadows, slowly ripening and -withering at the summer's close; caught the long glimpses of the white -road--lit now only by the light of the stars--indistinctly heaped, -under the straight poplars, with the falling leaves, and then after the -little stone bridge was passed with the liquid eyes of the stars gazing -up to me as if from depthless nether worlds in the deep pools, I saw -the massed houses of our village with hospitable lights shining from -their windows. The urgent smell of flowers breathed from its walled -gardens, and I prayed aloud that the hand of the destroyer or the cruel -fury of bomb and shell and shrapnel might not invade the entrancing -spot. The fresh odors--roses, heliotrope, verbena--enriched with an -added effluence from the wet ground, bestowed upon the place a sort of -consecration of beauty, peace, and sweetness. - -I passed Privat Deschat's, and there was no light in the upper story -window where he often read late into the night. I instantly caught -sight of our home, where the windows of the library sent out so bright -a light, that as I stood before the gate I could distinguish its -occupants. Lights in other rooms shone out more timidly. The old home -had doubtless gathered our group of friends, and it was an auspicious -moment for me to enter. I raised the knocker and let it fall with a -rub-a-dub-dub that I invariably used. I heard the running footsteps -within, and the door flew open and I fell into the arms of Gabrielle. - -"Alfred, Alfred. How good. O! We are glad to see you. And our friends -are here, and we are all wild with anxiety to know what is being done; -what is happening. Come, come," and the impatient creature pulled me -into the now filled doorway of the library, where one by the other -stood father and mother, Père Antoine, Père Grandin, the captain, and -Privat Deschat, with Dora Destin, the little circle of our intimates, -all peering with wide-open eyes at me as the bearer of new tidings, new -hopes perhaps. - -An embrace of mother and father and of the _Capitaine_, a hearty -hand-shake of Père Grandin and Père Antoine, of good Privat Deschat, -and an unreluctant kiss from the pretty Dora brought me well into the -room. - -"Where," I said, "is Quintado?" - -"O! Monsieur Lupin," it was the half wailing voice of Dora, "He has -gone to the regiment and is on his way to the front." - -I looked intently at the half weeping child, and discovered a budding -romance there. - -"Come, come, Alfred," said the captain. "Tell us everything. Are there -troops enough? Where are the robbers? We hear they are advancing along -by Maubeuge in a broad front." - -"And Alfred," it was the voice of Père Antoine, "the hospitals and the -aids to the injured. Are they in good hands?" - -"Monsieur Lupin," now it was Père Grandin, "is the Ministry together? -Are we in safe hands under Viviani and Delcassé? Is Paris well guarded, -and how goes the English alliance? Belgium is wiped out. Do the -Russians make headway?" - -I expected to hear next the shrill insistent voice of Privat Deschat, -but as I turned towards him with a smile of interrogation, I saw he had -withdrawn, and was moodily studying the ceiling. - -"Alfred, will our credit be maintained? It is clear that the expense of -the support of the armies, the purchase of stores, of munitions, the -care of the wounded, will be almost ruinous. Does anyone predict how -long the war will last? What are _rentes_ selling at?" It was my father -who put this practical aspect of the case before me. - -"But Alfred, what can we do? Everyone must help. Could I nurse? I would -go gladly." I knew that sweet voice and I felt how the devoted heart -which gave it utterance would sacrifice herself to the last atom of her -body in the cause. It was Gabrielle. - -"Alfred, you are hungry and tired. Hortense and Julie have put up -for you a good dinner--the things you like, _un ragout de viande -de saucisse avec les pommes de terres et les girofles_, all _bien -melée_." Ah, that was the mother's voice, and there behind her at the -library entrance shone the honest face of Hortense, brimming full of -admiration, and the little curious _petite visage_ of Julie at her -side, also admiring. - -"Come, let us all go together with him in the dining room and sit -around and hear him," said the disconsolate Dora. - -Mother objected to that proposal and so I was whisked off under -apologies, and with the strictest promise that I would be back in as -short a time as possible, and then we would use up the night in talk -and confidences, with mother's red wine and _les gateaux aux amandes_ -to loosen our tongues. - -In our old dining room under the stiff surveillance of our over-painted -ancestors, with mother opposite to me, and Hortense bustling in every -minute, with new contributions of _les bonnes bouches_, I sat enjoying -to the uttermost the good dinner, while I told mother of the Yvettes, -and of Paris, of the soldiers, the anticipated invasion of the Germans, -and how the high and low, the rich and the poor, the learned and the -ignorant, were standing shoulder to shoulder in the immense effort to -preserve _la patrie_! - -Ah! that was a famous night! How we all talked, and how I rehearsed -all I had seen, all I had heard, all that I thought and, all that -Yvette heard, and saw, and thought too. How defiant was the captain, -how grieving the Père Antoine--who half thought that the threatened -death of the Pope might stop the war!--how impatient Père Grandin, -how attentive and silent was Gabrielle--waiting for them all to go to -besiege me with questions and offers--and how we all became silent, -stifled with a fearful dread, when the invasion of the Huns was thought -of, as reaching St. Choiseul. I argued against that likelihood. The -wish was indeed then the father to the thought. - -"The tide of approach will be more to the north and east, and if the -worst happens before our men can check the deluge, the enemy's hordes -will sweep into the Paris environs directly from the east and north. -Our position north-west of Paris must protect us for some time, but--of -course there are possibilities." - -"It can't be done," the old captain strode into the centre of the -room and swung round to us as he made his point clear. "It can't be -done--_c'est impossible_. Why? Because with each retreat our armies are -rolled up into thicker lines, and the Germans must broaden their wings -to save themselves from being out-flanked and to protect their lines -of retreat and supply. It can't be done--_c'est impossible. Je vous le -dit._" - -Perhaps we were not persuaded--so many things might happen--but we all -felt better by making up our minds that St. Choiseul was rather out of -the path of danger. Then we went over plans to help, and the suggestion -was made by Père Antoine that I speak at the church house, and all of -St. Choiseul and Briois and the country-side around be assembled there, -and a committee be formed, and work started to gather and make material -for the hospitals, the Red Cross missions, and to send gifts and warm -underwear to the camps. - -Now it was surprising, and it gave me an almost unpleasant shock -of disillusionment, that throughout the night Privat Deschat -had said nothing--_absolument_. Glances fell upon him from the -company, as if his voice in the talk would be welcomed, and yet, -listening with an absorbed earnestness, he "never opened his mouth" -(_Americain_)--_jamais il ouvrait son bouche_--and it produced the -disagreeable effect of alienation, of indifference. It could not be -believed. Ah--God be blessed--that cloud of doubt was quite dissolved. -About, as the morning sent its streaks of red over the east, and a -fresher scent invaded us from the windows, Privat Deschat stood up -at the corner of the group, where he had been sitting in his, to us, -unfathomable taciturnity, and in a low voice, his big face moving with -unconcealed emotion said these words. It closed our council: - -"You wonder that I have kept silent. It seems to you a treachery. It -is not. I can say but little. I know nothing. My heart beats with -yours, with that of France, but neither your hearts nor the noble -heart of France will force conclusions in this matter. Fate," he cast -a momentary amused glance at Père Antoine, "is not concerned with the -wishes of nations, any more than with the wishes of men and women. But -after all Fate can be COERCED," he spoke the word with a simulated cry -of anguish--it made me start. "Force and Strength and Devotion can -put Fate to flight. You may not believe it, because Fate, or the way -things go, is to you," he paused, as weighing the possibility of his -inclusion, "_all_--the will of God. It may be in the meanings of Fate -to destroy France, but our _FAITH in France_--and that means _Force_ -and _Strength_ and _Devotion_ will put that _Fate to flight_." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE INVASION - - -The deluge came. The spreading front of the magnificent wave of -destroying Germans swept into France from Belgium, engulfing towns, -foundering villages, flooding the wide country with its encompassing -waters. Bah--the symbol is hopeless. _Not water_, the life-giving and -fructifying essence of the skies, which fills the earth with gladness, -not the moisture of the meandering rivulets that enamel the ground -with flowers and grass, not the blessed warm rains that search the -little brown rootlets of the glorious trees, and feed them nutriment -and gather to them the atoms of mineral from the ground, that through -the great trunks and all of the enlacing branches, build aloft to the -bending skies the temple for the birds, and the home of protecting -shadows, the wide canopy of beauty that holds the mists of the morning, -and holds back the fury of the storms. None of these things that start -in our minds familiar images of flowers and fruitage, when the pleasant -word _waters_ fills our ears--none of these came with the Germans. - -It was a wave, but a wave of FIRE, consuming, scorifying, killing, -_fire_; it was a flood, but a flood of ravenous _flames_, ravishing, -withering, scorching, cremating _flames_--and there were indeed -_waters_. What?--the endlessly running fountain of tears. _Tears_ of -fathers, and mothers, wives and children, tears over vanished homes, -vanished faces, vanished tongues; tears before the black unpitying -future of penury and want, of loneliness and beggary; tears over -maimed lives, lost bodies, voiceless orphans, crushed shrines, deluded -hopes--Nay differently, tears that were never shed, dried up in the -fierce heat of bitterness and hate and terror, of shuddering despair, -of dumb abnegation; fountains of grief indeed that were sucked dry by -the tempest of impiety, that gathered them up into a storm-cloud before -the Throne of the Most High and from whose depths rolled the awful -summons--"_Why, Why, Why, is This?_" - -I had given my lecture in St. Choiseul, and the little church house was -finely packed. The people came from the villages about, trudging over -the roads, riding horses and mules, driving in wagons and chariots, -with country gentlemen amongst them, and lovely ladies, and bunches of -the older children. The choir of the seminary at Bienne helped us, and -sang touching songs, and gay ones too, and songs of courage and songs -of prayer. It was inspiring. I looked at the patch-work assemblage, the -earnest young and the pale and trembling old--many helped by their -children to walk into the big room--the maidens wearing the tricolor -in profusion, the boys waving flags, and Monsieur Raoul la Fayette de -Birot, the owner of the superb chateau over towards La Ferté where -each year were held the grand _chasse-cours_, seated in the front row -with madame, splendidly arrayed, while at his side sat the humble -_chasse-mulet_ from Briois shrinking at first and fumbling his way to -some less conspicuous place, and held back by M. de Birot who spoke up -quite loudly: - -"_Restez. Je vous prie. À present nous sommes tous français, tous amis, -Comment! fait-il une difference, quand la patrie est en peril?_" - -There were shouts of encouragement and approval, and then the crowded -hall rose _en masse_, and sang the Marseillaise. It shook the rafters -and went far away through the open windows, and woke the sleeping birds. - -Père Antoine introduced me very prettily, very sweetly, and when -he took my hand and led me forward to the edge of the stage the -cheering was tremendous. I saw Gabrielle, and father and mother, the -_Capitaine_, Privat Deschat, and Père Grandin, all together near the -front, and dear sister held her face in her kerchief, because she could -not hold back the tears. - -I was a little frightened at the beginning, but I found my tongue, and -described the scenes in Paris, and what the government was doing and -how the troops were being mobilized, and the news of the successful -landing of the English reinforcements, and the confidence everywhere, -and then I read a part of M. Viviani's speech at the Chamber of -Deputies, and closed with a recitation from Bambetta's great oration. - -Ah! that was magnificent; I had skill in such things--as what Frenchman -has not--and thrilled with emotion, my heart afire with pride and hope -and love, I declaimed the blazing lines as though my lips were touched -by the same divine flame that had lit those of the great tribune. - -The tribute was immense; the building seemed to rock in the vibrations -caused by the thunders of applause. All were standing, hats and caps -filled the air, a sea of handkerchiefs sprang up, and the flags were -torn from the walls and the standards, and mingled their brave colors -in the ocean of snow. I saw Gabrielle between the _Capitaine_ and -Privat Deschat pale and rigid as if transfixed with pain. - -Père Antoine spoke then, and invited M. de Birot to become chairman of -the supplementary meeting, designed to form committees, and outline -plans for practical work. We were most successful; the principal -committee, that of Hospital Supplies, made me its chairman, and I -instantly began my work. It was this work that carried me over the -department, and kept me long weeks from home. Gabrielle wished to go -to Paris and serve under the Red Cross, but I opposed that vigorously -and kept her at St. Choiseul where she did nobly, gathering hospital -supplies and furnishings for the soldiers, and where was inaugurated -that mystical and supernatural VISITATION that led--as the world now -knows--to the suppression of the raging conflict, as it threatened to -level all of Europe in smouldering ruin; when--was it not so?--the -HAND of GOD rested upon the earth, and the Armies shrank back from the -Vision and DISSOLVED. - -On August twenty-second the mailed hand of the Germans sprang over -the borders of France, and from Mons to Luxembourg, its outstretched -fingers were crushing the land and strangling its people. Against -those groping fingers the twined hands of the French and English -were now eagerly--albeit with some trepidation--also grappling. On -the twenty-fourth there was reported terrific fighting on the Sambre -and the Meuse. On the twenty-fifth, the French and English allies -retreated, forced back by the hammering strength and anvil blows of the -Germans, who dealt their _coups de tonnerre_ while banked against each -other around their massed guns, the whole monster moved onward like -some titanic physical eruption. - -Again on the twenty-sixth the allies reluctantly yield--yielding -everywhere with fierce retributive blows on their part, and -consolidating as they retreat, every energy of resistance behind them, -while they prepare new lines of defense, and gather together every -available scrap of support, material and human. On the twenty-seventh -the news is received that the battle line reaches from Maubeuge to the -mountains of the Vosges, and that the Germans number one million men. -Against this mountainous avalanche of soldiery and guns the grimmest -determination alone can hold its ground. But the walls are unbroken and -the raging flood breaks through nowhere yet. - -On the twenty-ninth I was far north with the armies, in the Red-Cross -ambulances. The Germans fought their way to La Fère--north-west of -Laon, and about 140 kilometres from Paris (about 90 miles), but the -watch word _Tiens ferme_--Hold tight--was passed from mouth to mouth, -and the tense strain of dogged endurance held the fronts together, each -inch fought for with savage fury. - -Someone blundered; there seems to be no doubt of that. We were not -receiving reinforcements as we should; the troops had been urged into -Alsace, tempted by a barren victory, and the large support which these -battalions could have provided failed. _C'était miserable!_ - -On the thirtieth our left yielded. A gigantic battle was fought out -in the department of the Aisnes near La Fère, at Guise and Laon, on -the road to Paris. The English allies proved to be adamant, immovable. -Under Sir John French at Mons and at Cambrai, they saved the day. - -The cannonading was deafening, and the red tongues of fire quivered -in dense volumes along the struggling lines of men, shot forward -here, stumbling backward there, crowded in disarranged groups that -swayed this way and that. Ever and anon terrific rushes forced, from -either side, into the open midst the raging storm of the vomiting -guns, impotent sallies, whose human units fell beneath the withering, -blasting discharges of the cannon, torn into fragments by the bursting -shells, or suddenly trampled into disfigured masses by maddened -charges of cavalry, these last again stricken into death or helpless -mutilation by the converging fire of the batteries, victim and victor, -man and horse, heaped up in a throbbing or motionless blackened mass, -filtered through with the oozing streams of blood, where indeed to -the disembodied ear, that might have bent above them, rose the cries -of suffering, or the last murmurs of the anguished dying, or the -indistinguishable agonized prayers of those who yet lived and prayed -for deliverance. - -Above the armies on either side the air was loaded with the brown and -bluescent clouds of smoke, in which the lurid splashes of carmine from -bursting shells broke momentary gaps. The dropping shells sent to every -side scurrying figures, pressed against each other in panic, when -with sullen roar, lost almost amidst the universal din and clash and -swelter of noise, its imprisoned powers were released in straight lines -of fire, carrying along their blinding thread of light the shattering -steel missiles of death, the blistering resin and sulphur, while at the -inner edges of that crushed resurgence of living men lay the victims of -its rage, limbless soldiers, bodies stricken into shapelessness, the -fainting suitors of Death gasping for breath. - -But often the harsh steel missile, with its cracked sides, emitting -the fell arsenal of its sputtering and lightning driven contents, -failed to meet its desired mark, the soft flesh and the brittle bones -of living men. It sank, defeated, upon the impassive earth, vengefully -burrowing its hot way into the yielding ground, becoming in its burial -a mimic volcano, ripping aside its earthen tomb, as its detonation, -deadened to a hideous grumble, sent ball and canister through the soil, -spattering far and wide with dirt and mud and grass, the curtains of -the ambulances, the wheels of the wagons, the guards of the ammunition -motors, the backs and shins and breasts of men. Back of the lines the -gouged earth showed everywhere the frightful plunges of the foiled -demons, while with inconstant frequency noticeable to the trained eye, -not unobserved by those who thereby just escaped destruction, lay the -black bolides, extinguished and harmless. - -Behind that wavering and uneasy or else just stiffened frontier of -combat, where the murderous duel was played its sharpest, where men -with blood-shot eyes, blackened bodies, and rent clothing were lashed -into a maniacal heroism, where officers at intervals feeling the -necessity, or inspired by the traditional splendor of service, dashed -into the open and in the withering rain of shot and shell, upright, -and with sentinel precision, directed the fire or exhorted their men -to steadfastness--behind that marvellous line of human endurance, -the fluctuating panorama of supply and reparation and reinforcement -spread. Here were the gathered platoons ready for entering the thinning -lines, the marshalled helpers of the ambulance corps, the doctors -and orderlies, the racing caissons constantly feeding the rapacious -and smoothly running cannon, the more distant assemblages of the -commissariat, and behind them--a long long way off--that perpetual -train of fleeing victims, the procession of the evicted, hidden, as to -their resemblances to human proportions, under loads of domestic goods, -the paraphernalia of the household, so that they indistinguishably took -on the appearance of a vast titanic, coarsely corrugated and dirtily -colored reptile, worming its way endlessly into the distance. - -And when the eye, freed momentarily from its awful imprisonment in -that hideous wrestle of death and life, turned outward to the wide -horizons, the image of the desolating ravages of war were multiplied. -The confused flames and smoke-clouds of burning villages or deserted -shelters rose tardily into the dimmed skies, while, caught nearer at -hand perchance, and beyond the invading surges of the Germans, if seen -at all through the screen of vapors, the broken angular edges of wall -and parapet, tower and steeple, cut the horizon with cruel indentations. - -I had reached the neighborhood of a little village near Noyon, and -intended to enter the lines, having a special pass which would permit -me to come quite close to the firing ranges. The reason for this -urgency on my part was the knowledge that Sebastien was with the -Third Fusiliers, in a division of the Fifth Army Corps, and a letter -sent by him to Dora Destin which had been communicated to the captain -by an _attaché_ of Gallieni who was commandant of Paris, told his -sweetheart that he was not well, and expressed a wish to hear from her. -Dora had come to me with the letter, stained with tears, and begged -me to make an effort to get to Quintado, and to take him not only her -message--written in the neatest hand-writing--but a package of woven -odds and ends which would help his comfort in the camps. Poor girl, she -was inconsolable. - -It was about two in the afternoon of a dull day, with the skies heavily -laden with gray flat clouds, and there was a light drizzle falling, -with occasional sharper gusts of wind that smote the rain into keen -lines slanting eastward. I had pushed on--helped by my commission--and -found access almost to the immediate front unhindered. The Third -Fusiliers, I was told, held a part of the most exposed part of the -field, and that the battle was raging at that instant. That fact was -too evident. I heard the continuous roar of the guns; I saw the shells -exploding above and around me, while past me through the open ways of -access and retreat the stretchers passed in undeviating succession, -in their rapid methodical transference of the wounded to the field -hospitals further out, and in the direction of Compiègne. The incessant -strain of anxious incisive movement, the troubled crowding of exertion -among the waiters, the sharp punctuated orders, the bristling worry of -preparation, the racing ambulances--these indications behind the lines -formed the declarative prelude, were one approaching the battle from -behind it, of its terrible reality. As reality lay just beyond that -thicket of trees, that hastily constructed redoubt, that furrowed field -where shallow trenches cut it lengthwise, that crumbling hut, smoking -with concealed flames and spitting gun-shots. - -I knew that the battle raged, but I insisted on making my way -forward, and the favoring chance of a sudden disturbance, some -intense propulsion of the enemy driving our soldiers rearward in a -dishevellement--quickly overcome--brought me right within the focus of -the fight. I was seized up in the refluent movement that reestablished -our line. The oscillation sent me eastward, and I was thrown down, -rolled over and almost trampled on, in a furious despairing rush -forward of artillery. I fell within sight of a hillock, whose little -yet unscathed crown of grass was sprinkled with daisies--the pathetic -irony of flowers in that waste of slaughter! I crawled to this trivial -protection, and, with a prayer on my lips, dug myself into the yielding -mould, and watched. The battle line was still somewhat beyond me and to -my amazement and satisfaction I soon discovered that I was actually in -the companies of the Third Fusiliers. Was Sebastien in the front? - -As I recall that instant now, it seems almost an illusion that it -occurred at all. It was the concentrated immensity of it; its vast -superabundant detail, crushed into a measure of time out of all -proportion insignificant, that put it among the categories of dreams. -Before me was a very slight declension of the ground, forming a sort -of broad hollow, traversed at its centre by a stream-bed, now almost -dry, but retaining a penurious thread of water, somewhat replenished -now by the rain, which, assisted by frequent depressions had gathered -into stagnant pools. Beyond the hollow to the right and to the left, -were two sparse clumps of trees, crowning the opposite crest of the -subsidence. Sheltered in these puny groves were cannon which had -apparently just reached that forward position, as the gunners were -seen desperately forcing them into position. Between the cannon-groups -came the tightly compacted formation of the Germans--wedge-like--half -crouchingly as they advanced, the close combination of figures making a -chain of stern set faces above the pressed guns and bristling bayonets. - -Our men had been driven off the opposite ridge, where the crippled -trees showed the bitterness of the contest, and where lay motionless -bodies in heaps while down the very gradual decline--less -frequently--could be detected the fallen figures, some yet moving, and -still nearer to my point of view strewn from end to end of the hollow -were the dead and dying, while--gruesome spectacle--the darkened waters -of the pools betrayed the slow infiltration of blood. From the hollow -the French had retreated to the southern edge, and were now entrenching -themselves for a new stand, at the moment when the Germans, recovering -their confidence after a partial repulse, renewed the attack, and were -coming again to close quarters with our soldiers. Our positions were -being shelled. The _mitrailleuse_ rapidly seizing position would soon -add their panic-breeding terrors, belching forth their destroying -torrents of ball and canister. The soft hiss of an ascending bomb -reached my ears, and later the roar or ripping whine of its explosion. -Our artillery, entangled in the previous _debacle_, was not yet -reorganized for response, and the moment looked perilously uncertain -for our defense. - -Quickly the commanding officers realized that the stabilizing help of a -vigorous charge would bring to the derailment time to straighten out, -and, before the full power of the enemy's batteries could be developed, -inflict a salutary repulse. There was a breathing space left. A -moment's halt had brought with it reawakened energies, and when the -order was given the ground thickened with men, and the disarray, as by -the flourish of a wand of dissipation, vanished, and with shouts the -braced bodies poured forward into that shallow trough, sprang across -it, and rose on its opposite edge. - -I too had risen out of my half buried position, and, transported by the -surpassing glory of the effort became oblivious of danger. The cheering -lines shot on, men dropping from the ranks and rolling backward, -becoming limp and silent, to be seized the next minute by the quickly -following support, and carried out of danger to the ambulances. - -My eye was fastened upon the racing lines. The Germans, unable to -bring at once the full power of their batteries to bear upon the -French, awaited the attack with their massed infantry; indeed under the -vociferous orders of their officers, leaped against it. The shock was -blood-curdling. On either side the officers led, and amid the frightful -collisions swords, bayonets, the heavily wielded butts of guns swayed, -and rose and fell, among the frantic combatants. All loud sounds seemed -suddenly stilled, and only the muffled groans and hissing suspirations -of the heaving intermingled and vitalized mound of humans were heard -and above them the metallic clash of arms. - -The gunners dared not fire. It was, as if arrested by the suspense of -a mortal conflict, each side was held at bay, except where between the -armies this intimate carnage raged. More companies were hurled into -the hollow--and from both sides--and the insignificant crease in the -landscape became a boiling caldron of death. The German resistance had -at first proved successful, and our men were being forced down into -the battered and now unrecognizable rivulet, so that the hand to hand -engagement filled the hollow with its lethal turbulence. - -To and fro the mixed tumult bent and receded, when from our right, -somewhere in the rear, a bomb soared. Its hiss, sweetened to a murmur -only, sang in my ears as the harbinger of rescue. It fell a little -within the German lines, and then came the detonation, and the mangled -masses fell backward. The pressure relieved, and the appalling sense -of some successor to the avenging missile, breaking down the courage -of the enemy, our reinforced battalion was suddenly afforded room, -from the enemy's recoil. Our antagonists were ballotted backward, -as if struck with doom, and so, swinging their guns into horizontal -phalanx, with naked bayonets the French renewed their charge, and -drove the ravaged ranks before them, up, over the ridge, and back. The -next moment was scarcely passed, before the hollow was again refilled -with troops ordered to take and turn the enemy's batteries, somewhat -screened in the desolated groves of trees. - -In the twinkling of an eye the work was accomplished, and the Germans -fled. Down the line for more than a kilometre I suddenly saw on either -side of me a frontier of bayonets--from fresh arrivals--fixed and -advancing and flashing. The slowly falling rain had relented, and the -sun gleamed for an instant on the bared needle points, as if in augury -of our success. Then the serried profile of bayonets paused, perhaps -for mechanical alignments, tilted upward and moved; moved as with the -release of a gigantic spring. - -The line swept on. I watched them, fascinated, enthralled by its awful -menace. The deserted hollow--no longer a battle field--was almost -empty, save of those criss-crossed piles of fallen bodies where the -transfixed agony of individual conflict yet remained unchanged, in -the attitudes of foes knit together in the horrid embrace of their -death-fight. Where the severed corpses, fouled in smoke and grime and -dirt, lay shapeless, or distended on back or face, or sometimes with -arms twisted in knots among each other, or just alone, hither and -thither, solitary bodies unsoiled by any mutilation and bent together, -as if bivouacked for sleep. And here too were the wounded, sometimes -moaning audibly, sometimes still writhing with the urgent wounds, fresh -in leg or arm or breast. And everywhere was the ploughed and tormented -earth, trampled and dug into by the straining feet of the combatants, -meshed with holes of water and now, under the recovered sun, -glistening, wet, and muddy. I hurried along with the Red-Cross men into -the hollow with my mission quite driven out of my head; only anxious -to assist the wounded to some places of safety and relief. The battle -seemed for the moment displaced, though around us the orders sounded, -caissons rumbled, regiments poured past us and the intermittent aerial -swish of shells was heard, and not so far to the right and to the left -the German front was murderously insistent, pinching us where we stood -in a dangerous salient. - -After lifting a number of the limp bodies of men, in whose faces shone -at times the benediction of gratitude, and at others rested just the -pallid smile of recognition, or else were filmed with the bleaching -shades of death, I went to the top of the ridge beyond which our -forward flung companies had routed the Germans. The fearful clash, body -against body, was resumed in a ploughed field but the horrors were -augmented--though too it had a splendor in it--by the added carnage -of the plunging cavalry that now thickened the fight into a crucial -contest. The captured batteries were useless here, but they were being -dragged into the French lines behind us. I was leaning against one of -the willows of the groves, thrashed into a ruin of fallen branches, -yielding to sickness of heart that might have thrown me into a faint -when I felt my feet tugged at. I started and looked down. In the heavy -grass, trampled and rutted, I saw the outstretched body of a soldier, -dragging itself upward by my legs, and he had so far freed himself from -the herbage that our eyes met. It was Sebastien Quintado. - -Perhaps I shouted. I hardly think so. If I had Sebastien never heard -me, for he had fallen back again, and lay motionless. For an instant -I thought his life had fled. I seized his shoulders, and pulled him -within the trees. He was bleeding from a cutlass wound across his -chest, and from a gash in his thigh. We carried him back into the camp -and he slowly revived. The half extinguished spark was relit. Of course -he knew me. He said he knew me as I stood above him on the battlefield, -but thought, half deliriously, that it was a dream only. - -I had secured excellent quarters for Quintado, and his wounds while -grave were surely healing. Had I not met him in time--the very nick of -time--he might have bled to death. At the earliest practicable moment -I intended to bring him to St. Choiseul. I knew that when I could tell -him that, he would be better. _L'espoir est à le fond de la santé._ - -We were in a relay hospital, back some kilometres from the front, and -on the road to Paris, where most of the charges were transferred. It -was an encampment of tents, and in one of these--indeed it was near -Compiègne--the day after I had brought him from the field, and when too -at any moment we might find it necessary to hastily retreat, as the -Germans pressed on in spite of the grim resistance that like a wall -delayed them. I say it was in one of these tents, towards sunset, as -the level rays, unchecked by a cloud poured over the camp a light that -seemed to wash out the stains of dirt and use, and make it brilliant, -that, as I sat near Quintado's cot, I caught his eyes resting upon me -with an indescribable affection. - -"Sebastien," I said, "you will live, and very soon, O! very soon, I -will take you to St. Choiseul, and you shall stay with us. Is it well?" - -He murmured; "Ah, Alfred. How surely you know it is well." - -"Sebastien, you must not talk any more. You see what I hope to do. At -the most two or three days and you will be with Dora." His eyes were -bright with joy, and then almost as quickly they darkened with tears. - -"No! No!" I remonstrated, "No! Sebastien--you need have no fears. The -doctor says you will be quite the same, a strong, well man. Eh! Do you -hear me? And see, this is what Dora has sent to you. All made by her -own hands. Are you not content?" - -I unfolded the roll of stockings, and handkerchiefs, and mittens, and -waist bands, and as I handed them to feel he touched them with his -lips, as though they were holy--indeed to him they were most holy--and -then his lips moved too in prayer and a look unutterably tender flushed -his face. His great liquid eyes closed, and his heart was consecrated -anew to the pretty orphan girl. - -Ah! those were terrible days. The shocking Teuton never faltered. He -came on with big weltering blows that beat the French and English back, -though we kept in good order, and, as the bulletin gave it, "The dam -still holds, and breaches are being repaired." The government thought -it best to leave Paris, and re-establish itself in Bordeaux, and the -people thronged east and south from Paris to Tours, Orleans, Le Mons, -Biarritz, Brest, Rennes, Nantes, Bordeaux, going in all ways, and -blocking the roads so that nothing could move, and the men and women -slept in the carriages, and wagons, and motor-cars, and in the roadside -houses, and in the fields. - -And the peasants north of Paris, in the farms and gardens, left in -terror, and about fifteen hundred of them entered Paris--trudged the -whole way--with boxes, and bags, bundles, strings of poultry, and -sometimes driving their cows and pulling their pigs, with provisions -tied up in shawls, and utterly dumb with grief and consternation. - -Then the flying men appeared over Paris and dropped bombs just to -scare the populace, letting fall papers and threats with lying news of -the Germans almost at the gates of the city, and enclosing scoffing -invitations to surrender. The bombs were dropped in the Rue de Hanovre, -the Rue du Mart, the Rue Colbert, the Rue de Londres, the Rue de la -Condamine. But later our aviators paroled the skies, and garrisoned -the air, and the frightful _taubes_ came no more. But it was I think -on September third (thirty-two days after the beginning of the war), -that a daring show-man let out orchestra stalls at the "_butte_" of -Montmartre on an arranged tribune, whence the big German dragons could -be seen hideously humming above the city. - -_Il était un peu drôle, mais la plaisanterie est dans le fond de la -nature française; n'est ce pas?_ But Père Grandin frowned, and called -it _une grande folie_, and then repeated the lines from La Fontaine: - - _Le trépas vient tout guérir; - Mais ne bougeons d'ou nous sommes: - Plutôt souffrir que mourir, - C'est la devise des hommes._ - -Well I got Sebastien away from Compiègne--and it was only about six -days later that the Germans swarmed over this region--and after delays -in the trains, crowded with the wounded, brought him to Paris. The city -was in a suppressed excitement with a seething exodus of citizens going -on, who stood in lines at the stations ten abreast and almost half a -mile long waiting their turns to get away to the south. I stayed some -days in Paris, putting Sebastien in one of the well equipped hospital -_échoppes_ in the Champ de Mars. He was yet weak and nervous, and his -breast caused him much pain. I saw him every night, and we went over -the orders and the news of each day together. - -The government left Paris for Bordeaux, on September second, and it -was thought that there might soon be a pitched battle around the Paris -forts before a week was over. The enemy was pushing its outposts nearer -and nearer, with the main advance directed against the left flank of -the French centre. On September eighth the allied armies were more than -holding their own from Ourcq to Verdun. Preparations went on furiously -all over Paris, and the Bois de Boulogne was turned into a cattle -ranch, and the ratio of available provisions to the population--then -over two million--carefully calculated. The use of gas for cooking was -prohibited, and its use confined to lighting. East of Paris were lines -of refugees, filling the roads from Verdun, almost seventy kilometres -(about 43 miles) long; the Chateau de Bizy was transformed into a -hospital, and also the Chateau des Penitents at Vernonnet. - -It was evident that St. Choiseul for the present was comparatively safe -from invasion, the current of investment moving to the south-east, -although a letter I received from Gabrielle said that German military -motors had been seen near Briois and that their occupants had rifled -the wine cellars of M. Villiers. Sebastien was impatient to get away, -and I feeling too excited to remain with him, concluded to send him at -once to St. Choiseul, writing to Gabrielle that we would come together. -My intention to return to St. Choiseul was further quickened by some -indefinite statements by my sister that father and mother had partly -lost their memories. I instinctively divined that the relentless pall -of paralysis was closing about them, and the miserable sombreness of -this thought with all of the present darkness about me, plunged me into -a dull speechless misery. - -The autumn lights shone upon the fair lands about St. Choiseul and -shone upon the gardens, thicketed with early chrysanthemums of the -sweet village itself, with a lovelier tenderness. It was altogether -charming, and as we rode from Briois gently--very gently--Sebastien -caught my shoulders and head in his arms, and hid his face on my -breast, sobbing softly. The poor boy's heart was full of memories and -full too doubtless of presaging fears. The happiness snatched from his -life by the nation's peril, the yet unfaded impressions of the dreadful -conflict painted to his eyes with the darkest, deadliest colors of -suffering, the returning familiar beauty of his old home, and the -rising flood of anticipation before the realization of his welcome, -mingled together in a torrent of emotion too strong for his composure. -I clasped him warmly, and the sympathy of my own bereaved soul covered -him as with a benediction. Slowly we moved on amid the splendid -fruitage of the fall, where, on either side, the richly laden fields -bore their golden crops, and where too--another note of the country's -extremity--the hardy old men and the children, and the silent devoted -women, toiled almost alone at the deeply needed task of the generous -harvest. - -_Mais, voila, qui arrive!_ We have reached the little bridge, from -whose moss encrusted arches rises the low hill of the dear village, -and just over there, half way up, stands the old chestnut tree. And, -coming down to meet us, is the whole _entourage_ of old men and women -and children, a mimic army bearing flags, the banners of the church, -and singing, while an improvised little group of musicians at their -head, sent far over the wayside the throb of the drums and the shrill -whistles of the fifes. - -It was indeed Quintado's welcome home. Our horse recoiled, snorted and -reared at the unusual spectacle, and the stirring accompaniment, and -the next moment the throng was all about us, and there were cheers and -salutations, and waving caps, and a happy bubbling merriment, that made -poor Sebastien half wild, and so bewildered him with pride and joy -that the poor fellow was speechless, and almost in tears. I spoke a -little for him, and the good people then ranged themselves around the -carriage, and the horse, led by the head, to prevent his sudden bolting -away from the noise and clamor, brought us into St. Choiseul. - -Quintado had whispered to me with a blush on his cheeks and with a -faltering voice, "But Dora is not here?" - -"Ah, Sebastien," I cried, "the best comes last. Wait. You shall see. -I think I know that Dora was afraid. Yes really afraid. It would -be too much joy. Remember she has heard that you were wounded, and -perhaps--surely you understand--" - -I did not finish my assurance. His good arm was about my neck, and just -to see him so overcome, without knowing the reason, pleased the good -friends, marching happily in his company, and the smiling children, so -that these, his pupils, broke out in a loud chorus that he had taught -them at school; a gay barcarolle from Moliere, that reflected the -buoyant unimpeded liveliness of young and loving spirits, though indeed -I felt some scruples as to its propriety just now, when we bowed to the -dark menace of a punishing destiny: - - _Sortez, sortez de ces lieux, - Soucis, chagrins, et tristesse; - Venez, venez, ris et jeux, - Plaisirs, amours et tendresse. - Ne songeons qu'à nous réjouir, - La grande affaire est le plaisir._ - -It was pleasant to hear; the voices, sharp trebles, stabbing the quiet -air with their keen accents, like vocal poignards, and running on -with us under the first short group of walnuts--just opposite Privat -Deschat's--whose lower branches were draped in the bronzed leaves of -escaped vines. We moved along altogether in, to me, a curious sad -emblematic way of the past happinesses and peace. The song breathed the -pensive reminder of a remote dalliance and serenity, lost now behind -the rolling clouds of belching cannon and smoking bombs. - -The swinging melody put to flight immediate fears, yet like an -incantation and, like dreamers, we surrendered to the transient -forgetfulness: - - _Aimons jusques au trépas; - La raison nous y convie. - Helas! si l'on n'aimait pas, - Que serait--ce de la vie! - Ah! perdons plutôt le jour - Que de perdre notre amour._ - -Well! that was fitting enough, and as I glanced at Quintado his -ingenuous bliss under this vocal stimulation of his natural feelings -was boundlessly agreeable. How very handsome he was; excitement had -thrown into his flat cheeks a becoming color, and the lingering pallor, -elsewhere, bestowed upon him an enticing interest, quite pleasing. -His deep eyes glowed with pleasure, and the black hair escaping from -beneath his pompon lay like ebony fingers on his white temples. Really -for example, he was angelic, though of the darker hue and deeper -temperament of angels, and there glinted from his eyes a stubborn -tender maliciousness of animal joy. _He knew that Dora waited for him._ - -And so we came decorously, with manifold lingerings, where the brisk -people pressed against the carriage wheels, and almost stood under the -horse's feet, up to our house, the one--you remember--next to that -of Privat Deschat's and there, _Mon Dieu_, how I see it now! There -was a beautiful arcade of branches of yews, and amongst them red, -red roses, like ruby stars, and over the path beneath the arch were -strewn vine-leaves. We alighted very slowly, for Quintado had again -become weak, and the people were most respectful, and considerate, -and, because it might have jarred him, withheld their cheers, and just -hailed him with uncovered heads. Ah! it was most pathetic I think. - -And up the path we went to that porch, where later, much later, -Gabrielle and I sat, overwrought and stricken with wonder and dread, -and on it stood father and mother, trembling, but gracious, and -tenderly sympathetic, and then-- - -Then Deschat and I took him up the stairs, on the chair made of our -crossed hands--the chair children make for each other--with Quintado's -good arm about my neck, and brought him to the bed-chamber, so dainty -and white, and sweet-smelling, and clean, and on the great broad bed -we laid him _so_ gently down and, from where he lay, his eyes could -see the sky, blue like a pea-blossom, with the trellised vapors spun -across it, and the window framed in Virginia creeper, with, at that -very moment, a wren whisking through its tendrils. And then Gabrielle -brought Dora to the door, and softly we went away, and the two lovers -were left there, and--_Helas!_ I was just envious perhaps, with some -illy stirred remembrance, some indefinable despair--I looked back, and -the two faces clung together and the whispering voices mingled, in the -inarticulate ecstacy of that meeting. - -I stepped again to the porch; the people were drifting away, still -softly singing, but I did not see them. I saw only the field of -battle, sodden with the dead; I heard only the menacing whisper of -the ascending shell; I thought only of one Divine Figure--He of the -Cross--weeping before His Father in Heaven for the sins of the world. - -And so the night came on, and I still sat there, until a hand rested on -my shoulder. I noticed its trembling pressure. - -I raised my eyes. There stood near me the captain, Père Grandin and -Père Antoine. It was the last who spoke: - -"_My son, Sebastien Quintado is no more!_" - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE REPULSE - - -As the Germans crossed the border of France and the hordes of the -Kaiser, like some whirlwind of devastation, crushed our villages, -trampled down our gardens, smote our sons, France trembled with rage, a -rage at first not unmixed with fears. But it was for a moment only. The -fierce reaction followed, and with the steadfast poise of her faith, -her endurance, her heroism, she resisted. That resistance was a sublime -act of confidence in herself. It meant an endless self-sacrifice. It -meant a solidarity of hearts. It meant a complete disenthrallment -from the illusions of ease and indolence and impregnability. We -were surprised. The enemy was at our gates. And Paris, the cynosure -of our pride and of our affection banished its _insouciance_, and -suddenly became strained with gravity, and a kind of, I know not what, -absorption in a new life. - -The German wedge moved on, and then our armies holding stiffly -together fell back, prodding the sides of the huge leviathan, that -sprawled over our fair land with its fierce talons extended, with -a savage not-to-be-denied hunger reaching out for that paramount -morsel--Paris--and spitting out of its ravenous mouth sprays of -desecrating Uhlans and automobile excursionists, who were here and -there, now hiding in a wood, now racing over the roads. It was these -drops and waterings of saliva from its horrid living mass that spread -terror and anxiety and a sickening dread. But we had not severed our -lines, and the retreating army corps tightly kept their cordon intact, -though falling back with a deep reentering swerve in the centre, where -the enemy fought hard to break through. And not seldom it happened -that those exudations from its vast throat were stamped out summarily, -so that no spot of their defilement remained. And Joffre--_Pater -patriae_--was not worried. That we knew; the plan was working. I -learned that from a colonel who had been at the crossing of the Meuse, -where, so he said, "the Germans spent their thousands to gain their -end, squadrons upon squadrons, slaughtered like pigeons from a trap, -coming on, stuck together like an army of termites, and beaten into -death by the merciless fire from our guns. But they got over," he said, -"and that was what they wanted to do. Why, living men were thrown into -the gaps to be rained down with shot and shell, like so much earth and -stone into a pit that must be crossed." - -The plan was to thrust the great beast sideways, and for that purpose -Joffre kept his plunging assaults on the west, while the English lured -them eastward and then came the Battle of the Marne. Charleroi, Rheims, -Rethel, Soissons, St. Quentin, had been passed, the bridge over the -Marne near Meaux blown up, and now came the sudden halt with our backs -against the wall, as it were, and every nerve and muscle strained in -the death-grip. The magnificence of our resistance was the measure of -our sense of peril. - -I had trembled for St. Choiseul, but as the tide swept southward those -fears passed, at least there was a breathing spell for us all. It -had been sad enough. The few men who were under command to join the -colors left in a little company, with their wives and children, their -sweethearts and parents, all silent and dreary, with the dreariness -of nameless fears. The men only were smiling and cheerful, and--not -all of them; the women mute, and the prattling children impressed by -some instinctive sympathy, almost always mute too. The women were all -resigned, I thought, with just here and there some silently weeping -girl, who smothered her sobs, and forced to her eyes the same earnest -pathetic resolve of resignation that the others wore. Gabrielle had -been an angel of mercy to these women. She had visited them; she -opened our house to them, and entertained them, and took care of some -of the children, and was so brave and loving with them, that they -called her, among themselves, _la Mère de Pitié_--the Mother of Pity. A -pretty name. - -I had been driven to the verge of exhaustion with work in the Red-Cross -and with service in Paris. The dispersion southward of the war-cloud -roused my spirits, and then I was requested to follow the troops to -Meaux--that was in September just after Quintado died--and I was more -than glad. There was much work to do there, and I knew the leaders -thought that the Germans were trapped. There had been some evidence of -shortage of ammunition with them, and their loss had been crippling--so -it seemed, though like some scourge of insects extinction was -impossible. Behind those who fell pressed on the unnumbered legions, -fresh and ready. But the advance had been too rapid and the critical -moment dawned when the blow could be struck that would hurl them -backward. So it was thought. So it proved. - -The country-side about Meaux is delicious in its pastoral charm. It is -_un pay riant_, and its smiles are so large and gentle, so benignant -and inviting, that the dwellers there are always smiling too. The -broken land rising, falling, with streams, passing hither, thither, -that gleam beneath the fair skies, and are like silver bands and -threads on its bursting jacket of green and gold, is a land of gardens -and fields, with clustering woods on hilltops, or, just missing that, -creeping down like warm coverlids in capes and tippets to the wide -valleys. Ah! it is most beautiful. And into this sweet refuge upon -these quiet happy changeful villages--changeful in the drifting shadows -from the slumbering clouds that basked above them in the glittering -sun--came the rough confusion of WAR. But it was not for long. No, -no, not for long. The kind God banished it before it had ravaged and -soiled the peaceful homes, the dainty walled gardens, the sweeping -fruitful meadows, the plenteous orchards, the teaming acres ripening so -enchantingly with grain and barley, or profaned its pretty grave-yards -gathered so warmly around its spired churches. Yes indeed our armies -and the English allies banked here with stubborn courage, and put it -all to flight. Drove it forty miles away! - -I saw much of that fighting. I was not far away when the English fought -like bull-dogs at Landrecies, when they hit the Teutons even harder -at Coulommiers, and in one engagement with our own men I took part. I -was not with the colors, but in the emergency I offered to shoulder -a gun and was assigned to a company by Colonel Brissot, who indulged -my fervor with a resigned and sympathetic shake of his noble head, -remarking: - -"_C'est un peu dure. Mais que voulez vous. Quand un homme veut à mourir -pour la Patrie c'est son affaire._" - -We lay back on a hill in a thin wood, and had planted the machine -guns in shallow pits. It overlooked a road, down which our scouts -reported the Germans were coming. I saw the first advanced lines, the -gray multitude plunging on, apparently unadvised of our proximity. It -was our intention to enfilade them, and then, under cover of fire to -retreat, to another eminence, with a supporting column swinging from -the opposite quarter, so that eventually we might catch the enemy in -the double grip of two cross fires. On the Boches came confidently. -They spied us before our spit-fires got into action, and the order rang -out to charge us. Three companies were thought sufficient for the task -of cleaning us out. They went at us in a huge lunge forward, almost -unbrokenly up the hill slope, their ranks close pressed, and unwavering -by the fraction of a foot. Almost at the minute when they started -up the hill, from the rear a caisson rolled up to our position, and -two shells were dropped amongst them. I saw the individual men fall, -while, as they fell, others through the gaps sprang into their places, -and the solid front unchangeably swept upward. It was magnificent -discipline and superb valor. Another shell shattered the line, and I -saw the mangled bodies drop. But still the unchecked tide poured on, -with shouts, and somewhere from a distance I caught the vigorous beat -of drums. The next instant they were almost at the muzzles of our -cannon. The word was given and the ripping articulation of our machines -rained three deadly streams of shot. The men rolled over each other in -the murderous hail, and, for a moment, the whole line halted. The limp -dead bodies formed a rampart, and behind that hideous protection their -comrades fell to their knees and answered our fire with their guns. -At the same moment a shell with the detonation of a crack of thunder -soared over us, and struck the ground behind us, gimleting its way into -the scorched earth, that smoked like a mimic crater. A fragment of the -shell knocked over the gunner at one of the machine-guns and the next -instant our officer caught sight of a swarming mass of gray bodies, -debouching into the roadway to our left, stealthily and rapidly driving -down upon us, with the evident purpose of surrounding our salient. -The order to retreat under the charge of the right wing, who, for the -expedient, was to hold the enemy, now pretty well discomfited by the -unceasing machine fusillade, was given, and we on the left and centre -slowly retired, moving to the second line of defence, more stoutly -guarded by three regiments of infantry and the park of cannon. - -The position of our machine guns, and the endangered right wing, which -had utterly disarrayed the Germans by their bayonet onslaught, demanded -attention. It would require but a few minutes for the arrival of a new -division of the enemy, and already a greater force was seen detaching -itself from the main body on the road, crossing the field below the -hill, with a run. Everywhere in front of us the Teuton front seemed to -be enlarging, and the glittering helmets of the plumed Uhlans, like a -sheet of kindling fires, suddenly emerged within it. There was nothing -for it but retreat, and a retreat quickly made. I trembled for the -safety of the thin file of defenders on the hilltop. Their certain -extinction or capture was inevitable. - -Then something most unexpected happened. Dropping shells from the -extreme right of our second line of defense, where the danger had been -reported, covered the hillside with a rapid succession of eruptions. -It was insupportable, though, with characteristic stubbornness--the -German officers rushed more men to the desolated slope, where the -shells ripped the ground, and filled the air with iron splinters. It -was terrific, and our gunners and infantry, dismayed for their own -safety, in the superabundant rescue, scrambled back and, together -almost, entered the lines of the second defense. I remember well enough -my own struggles to get there, for at the very conjuncture when my legs -should have best succored me, the injured member became almost useless. -I rolled into a lucky hole, where there had been at some time an -excavation made, or begun, for some reason, possibly the building of an -outhouse or cattle shed. An intense pain developed, and I found myself -quite, as the Americans say, "out of commission." Within sight was our -second line of defense, bristling with rifles and concealed machine -guns, a strong position, well garrisoned, and immediately before me -raced the parting remnants of the small parleying party that I had -adventurously joined. - -My predicament was dangerous. The very thought of capture and isolation -for months or years from St. Choiseul and Gabrielle and the domestic -duties I was so sorely needed to perform, terrified me, but it also -made me more methodical and ingenious. I searched the possibilities of -a return to my friends, and the obvious plan was to "lie still," and in -the night, if the positions of the armies remained unchanged to steal -under the cover of darkness back to the French lines. - -Suddenly I heard the oncoming shouts of German troops, and I realized -that it was the advance ranks of the division deployed to our left to -surround the hill,--now deserted--and which probably would continue -their advance to the attack, of our second line of defense, with the -whole strength of the German corps. I glanced about me. Some overturned -bushes lay at the side of the hole, and instinctively I seized them to -ambuscade my refuge. - -I crouched--perhaps a derisive observer would have said I -squatted--closely within the lowest recess of the accidental -excavation, and drew after me, with all the caution my necessity and -impatience permitted, the withered and prickly bushes--a hawthorn -bramble--so that, like a cowering rabbit in its warren, I awaited -the rapidly nearing host of the Germans. Luckily the excavation was -somewhat removed from their direct approach, and formed so obvious and -considerable a feature in the ground, that the platoons would avoid -it, or at the worst jump over it. Nearer and nearer came the clamorous -companies, and the heavy tramp of their feet, beating in unison the -stubbled field, made my heart beat too with an insistent rapidity. - -Now they were passing my tiny screen. I could hear their laughter -and the occasional rough sallies of their voices. The line seemed -endless. Just dimly through the interlaced twigs and dirt encumbered -branches of the hawthorn, I could actually catch a broken view of the -massive column. The horrible thought of one of the soldiers, through -an inadvertence, or from the crowding of the lines, falling into my -dug-out, sent the blood whirring through my veins and bathed me in -perspiration. I drew my revolver. It might be a straggler, and, if -just one man, the weapon would serve completely for my protection. -I shuddered at the awful chance. This extremity was worse than the -indiscriminate and generalized murder of the battlefield. - -Then just as this suspense almost throttled my breathing, the whole -line rested, and there above me--I could see their strong figures, -their gray coats, even the gleam of their _pickelhaubes_--the babel -of conversation broke out in incoherent gurglings of German. Another -instant and the order might be given to break ranks, to camp, and my -screen might serve, practically enough, to light a fire, or even the -hole be selected as a preeminently good substitute for a hearth. Smoked -and roasted out then it would be! - -No, the line moved again, with the unintermittent trudge of the -hundreds of booted feet, now and then the clangor of a sword, now and -then the whish of grazing coats, and always a certain observed but -indescribable hum of rapidly passing bodies. Then came silence--no -more?--could it be possible? In my hole the light had grown dimmer -and dimmer, and while it was no prudent criterion of the time of day -above me, still I felt sure--for I had counted the seconds elapsing -as the battalion swept over me--that the night drew near, and -then--deliverance. - -At first I scarcely dared to stir, fearing the betrayal of my retreat -by the animated bush which I would raise above me. But after a long -wait, while the light sensibly failed, I cautiously crowded what I -could of it, _the bush_, beside me, and surmounting it, at length was -able to peer out of the hole, and note the opportunities for my escape. -It was very dark, the night threatened to be stormy, and the rising -wind prevented my distinctly hearing sounds about me, if anyone was in -the vicinity. Slowly with the finest sense of carefulness and stealth, -I crawled to the lip of the shallow pit, and rose above it, and stood -up, achingly relieving my sharply disabled limb. - -"_Sind gefangen_;" the voice was at my side, and a shadow accompanied -it. But I was quicker than its groping arms or hands, quicker than the -gun or sword, or whatever else it seized for my despatch. I jumped at -the black body with my revolver trigger snapped back, and pressed the -muzzle upon the now rampant body, that grappled with me, and discharged -it. The report was almost inaudible, and the sound of the falling -German, as he dropped lifeless into the pit, that had sheltered me, -was hardly more than a dull thud. What was about me? was the enemies' -circuit here on every side? I hesitated for a moment. There came no -sound of rescue. The topography of the country I knew well. Far--about -a half a mile--to the right as you looked westward, was a road leading -directly to a village that was in the rear of the second line of our -defense. That road I would reach if I could. It was the simplest--to -me the only--issue of salvation. I turned quickly aside and fell to -the ground. My leg pained me, and seemed almost incapable of movement. -Lying there I swung my head about to discover what objects surrounded -me. In the night-light, almost absent, I could discern nothing, and -taking the risk as there was no other alternative I abandoned the idea -of walking to the road, over the rough field, and began slowly to crawl -in its direction. The sense of direction was infallible with me, and -I had not the slightest doubt of my position. Of course the Germans -might by this time have swarmed over the whole area, but that they had -not yet attacked the second line of our defense seemed certain as I -had heard no firing. Both sides awaited the morning. The Germans were -there, no doubt, but farther to the east. - -I canvassed these conditions while I crawled over the stinging -grass-stubble, and at intervals waded through water holes and muddy -banks. Now the ground was rising. I had attained the further side of -the broad field, and was surmounting a hillslope beyond which ran the -little road that would conduct me to safety. Well, I shall not rehearse -the mingling feelings of dread and relief, of quick suspense and then -exulting certainty, that I experienced, on that dismal trip on my hands -and knees all the way to the village. For only at intervals was it -possible for me to use my injured leg that increased in helplessness as -I went on. I reached the village, and the first man I encountered on -its outskirts was the man who had been next to me in the line of battle. - -We were dislodged from our position, and the weary retreat towards -Paris continued. I still stayed with the army, and I was in one other -fight, when my leg had somewhat regained its usefulness. It was then -that I was wounded, then that my soul most revolted against the -barbarity of War. - -We were in a village near the Marne, when the Germans attacked the -place. We had thrown up strong barricades at the end of the main -street, from which every vestige of life had departed except--I recall -the whimsical observation--that a black cat still crouched upon the -narrow window sill of an upper window of one of the little houses. The -Germans with their usual intrepidity and singular tenacity of habit -were expected to move down upon us in solid formation, and our guns -would receive them--we thought--with the almost certain decision of -their repulse. I was next to a gunner whose impatience to start the -fearful havoc was unrestrained. He kept muttering between his teeth. - -"_Sacre Bleu! Pas encore! Pas encore! Les scelerats; Pourquoi ne -venaient-ils pas?_" - -He did not have long to wait. At the head of the street, with shouts -and the loud beating of near-by drums, the Boches came on, almost as -if maneuvering upon a field of drill-practice. I was compelled to -admire their stolid impervious confidence and fearlessness. Down the -deserted alley of houses they rushed, and from behind them swung upward -with stunning reports exploding shells, intended for our discomfiture. -But the range was imperfect, and they fell beyond our position. I -trembled with expectation--the advance of the enemy, so determinedly -forceful, with the ranks close pressed in dense crowds, promised an -awful disillusion. Our captain warned against any premature discharge. -He would give the word. On the bristling lines swung, massively -compacted, like some human battering ram, and when I could almost see -the buttons on their gray coats the order came. - -It was a _whisper_, and the next instant the machine guns spouted, and -each soldier braced himself for the charge that might follow the foe's -disorder, with fixed bayonet. That was a hideous moment. The bodies -of the slain Germans piled high before the oncoming ranks, and from -side to side of the street--now become a veritable slaughter-pen--the -heaving mass still unrelentingly pressed over their dismembered and -fallen comrades. It was the veriest depth of hell. I awaited the next -word to charge, and it seemed to me incredible that I could urge myself -to do the deed, running the cold steel of the bayonet into quivering -flesh. Later like a flash this detachment passed, and the frenzy of -the moment blinded me to everything, but the fierce desire to destroy -our invaders. I waited. The machine guns unceasingly hissed, and they -shook with the uninterrupted intensity of their working. I watched in -a delirium of satisfaction their ravages. Arms and hands, even heads, -severed as if cut with a knife, flew into the air, and yet the flood of -humans, with not-to-be-denied insistency, rose to our barricade, and in -another breath would overwhelm us. - -Then came the order "_Charge_" and over the barricade with set -bayonets--I as best I might--our companies leaped and dashed into the -baying pack before us, with the shrivelling terror of the cold steel. -The Germans did not like the treatment. The machine guns were withdrawn -under the protection of this assault, and while we stemmed the tide, -for an instant, it was for an instant only. No effective pressure we -could then summon, would withstand the leviathan movement of those -belted Prussians. The shells too were finding us out, and we yielded. -A German officer cut down with his sword the brave gunner who had -so intemperately desired their approach. He was severed almost from -shoulder to waist. But he was avenged. I rushed upon the miscreant--so -he seemed to me--and pierced his neck with the bayonet in my hands. -There were no misgivings then, no secondary thoughts, not even the -transient survival of my sickening sense of faintness at the sight of -blood. I was acquiring the war-hardening that accompanies incessant -Murder. - -We fell back from the position in fairly good shape, and soon were -reinforced by new regiments, and then by artillery, and mortars, and, -as the battle widened, with more and more success on our side, we -checked the invasion, and soon were overmastering the invaders. At -length they fled, and the whole line swept onward, while fresh men -strode into the footsteps of their predecessors and Joffre won the -Battle of the Marne. - -It was then that I was shot in the breast and shoulder, and fell -heavily on my head against a roadside pile of stone. I lay directly -in the way of the Red-Cross men--those blessed gleaners of the -wounded--and so was quickly carried to safety. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -GABRIELLE'S VISITATION - - -It was the day after the battle of the Marne that as I lay in a -Red-Cross ambulance, one of an endless line making a slow progress to -Paris, past packed masses of soldiery, parks of artillery, ammunition -vans, hay wagons, meat carts buried in straw, commissariat busses--many -of them English, still pasted with placards of coffee-houses, groceries -and smoking tobacco, that a letter was brought to me by the orderly -attached to our company of wagons. How well I recall his grimed face -and the blood-stains on his white surtout! The letter was marked -"_urgente_" and also "_par permission de le chef-major de corps -d'hôpital_." The young orderly was gay with the pleasure of bringing me -a note from home--"_Que vous serez heureux; le mot de la femme et les -petites_!" The innocent salutation stabbed deeper than had the sabre of -the Teuton giant. My eyes started, and the pang passed. The cheerful -greeting was as some taunting whisper hissed in my ears, but--alas--how -well meant!--_bien entendu_. - -I recognized Gabrielle's hand-writing. I held the letter unopened, and -my flaccid nerves scarcely measured its meaning. Ah! it seemed to me -now almost a light matter what happened. The horrors and depths of -pitiless sufferings I had been through had stunned my susceptibilities, -and any added blow fell on a sensorium become rigid, or simply -pulseless with shock. At length my hand, mechanically almost, opened -the letter, and if it was unsteady it was the tremor of weakness only. -My blurred eyes read it as they might have uncertainly read a sign on -the street. And yet there was intelligence still remaining in them. My -heart beat faster, my eyes closed a moment, while a puny pain like a -shooting neuralgic ache, somewhere about my heart too, pierced me, and -then my lips moved in a whisper--_Dieu defende_. - -But indeed it was with me as with an eye fatigued with flashes, that -sees no longer, or sees everything fantastically. I read the letter and -laughed. The mild manner of a death--even the death of a father and -mother--in their own bed, by its luminous contrast with this manifold -Dance of Death in which I had shared, where Death nakedly came out of -the air, and shot you, or impaled you, or stifled you, where things -worse--_Ah! miserable_--than death happened, seemed almost benignant. -It won an enviable distinction. And, for the meaning of it all, the -disclosure of Death seemed itself now an admirable escape. Conception -with me had become so darkened by excitation, that in the black -background of consciousness, the loss of a father or of a mother, -created no discernible image. - -And yet--a few minutes later, as I read again the letter--crushed -into a ball in my hand--a natural recreation of sensibility terrified -me by its acute punishments. I cried out in a kind of fury, and -then I wept. My nerves went to pieces. I was delirious. That raging -tempest of madness lasted three days. I was taken to Paris. There -in a well appointed hospital in the Faubourg Saint Antoine, I was -treated with the most happy kindness, and there my sister came to see -me and to nurse me, and by that incommunicable power of sweetness -and sympathy--wherein too lurked the kindred genius of our common -parentage--she restored me to sanity, and the broken strained mind was -healed and fitted--as it were--together again, and the extinguished -candle of reason relit. Those were days of infinite bliss. It was -something wonderful indeed to be present and observant of one's own -regeneration. Yet so it seemed. A consciousness, feeble and complacent, -but always delighted, noted the return of another master-consciousness -to the control of its despoiled and scattered properties, and in noting -it, was willing to fade itself away, or re-enter its mysterious hidden -realm of feeling. - -And then I grew to so love Gabrielle. It was a sense of recreation, -of absolute reference of a second birth to her power. She assumed a -spiritual maternity before my eyes, and enrolled like some nucleal -miniature of divinity within my soul. She walked before my seeing eyes -an Angel of Grace. My bed lay in a separate room, quite apart from -the general dormitory, wherein the crowded cots held the anguished -sufferers from the battle fields, now forwarding their daily harvest -of wounded, in thicker and thicker bunches. It was an unsolicited -privilege but one granted through the benevolent insistence of the -superintending surgeon. Its window looked out of the back of the -hospital over a broken prospect of high chimneys, peaked walls, and -balustraded roofs. Points of color flamed here and there, where -jardinieres still bloomed on the window-sills, or where a tricolor, -in wreaths of bunting, festooned the near and far piazzas. Dull -surfaces of drab rose to parapeted balconies, and in a side-long -glimpse I could see the tree-lined boulevard of ----. Above the -mingled edges and angles an autumn sky laughed and wept, now flushed -with delicate primrose, when the sunset closed the day, and now, -for days too, drearily gray with inexpressive and moisture dropping -clouds. The room was prettily set with some plain furniture--a bureau -and a table covered with green baize, a cuvette and a few chairs. -The shining floor, in the light, mirrored the furniture, and in it -too were reflected the three pictures that decorated the walls. -Gabrielle had put these pictures where they were, and they were all -religious. One a Madonna, one a Christ, and the third the new Pope. -The walls were faintly _rougeatre_ and from the middle of the ceiling -hung an electrolier. That made the place at night gay with light. -It seemed to me a little corner of Heaven. Was it not so, after all -I had seen and been through? But I felt the sting of self-reproach, -when my thoughts traveled back to the desolate comrades on the shell -splintered, shrapnel haunted, bullet riddled field, there far away at -the front--and not indeed so far away either. - -Here Gabrielle nursed me, her pale face and sunken eyes were ominous -symptoms of her own failing strength--and here she told me of my -parents' deaths. It had a mysterious fore-ordained simplicity, and, as -it were, a naturalness. It seemed just a going out, as one would leave -a room, or pass through a door, and enter upon the world beyond. Father -and mother were stricken with the hand of that hovering paralysis that -had followed them for some time, and the achieving blow fell upon them -both as they lay in the morning, in their bed, conversing. Even their -thoughts had dwelt at that very instant upon the inevitable end, and -the light flame of life was snuffed out even as their hands crossed, -and the smile of a mutual resignation bathed their faces in hope and -confidence. - -This news brought to me no added misery--no, no, rather a strange -placidity of contentment. For in that region of experience wherein I -wandered along the borders of the great darkling ocean of Eternity, -I felt the intervening space of life, between this existence and the -next, to be of a transient and incomputable narrowness. The luxury of a -gentle inanition overcame me, and so unevenly did the spark of life at -times flutter in its cage, that I was unaware exactly whether I lived, -or had begun to float otherwhere on an uncharted sea. - -Slowly everything rectified itself, and then Grief came, and -realization, and reproach, and memory started its accusative course, -and I bewailed the impotence and forgetfulness of my pallid rectitude. -My filial uses had not been energetic enough, nor altogether wakeful. -That I knew. - -Thus between the relapses of my sorrow, and the soothing influence of -Gabrielle, I leaned more and more upon my sister, and, by a subjection -of will and emotion, caught her frame of mind, her tincture of -spiritualized enthusiasm. I now come to the very nucleus and meaning, -the very heart and life of this story--the longed for confession and -explanation which two worlds have waited for, the marvellous tale -of a young woman's intervention with the unnumbered dead, and their -disembodied re-entrance in the world to stay the earth's destroying -plague of War. To tell finally how in the agony of her sublime -assumption, to bring this to pass, my sister's soul left her body, and -withdrew in the wake of that vast ascension of spirits, to the Eternal -Sphere of the Immortals. - -I had reached successfully the last stage of convalescence. My -recovery had been stubbornly contested by the militant eager sprites -of disease which somewhere lurked within me. I had only "come round," -as the English say, slowly, with veerings and retreats, that kept -Gabrielle miserably anxious. When I was at last able to leave my -bed and sit up--sitting up in a Morris chair, most capacious and -comfortable--Gabrielle came to me one afternoon, when the white -radiance of the glorious day might cancel the unearthly shock and -the ghostly melancholy of her story, and almost kneeling at my side -repeated her incredible and wondrous confession. - -"Alfred, I have something very strange to tell you. Something that has -been happening for some time, and seems to grow more frequent as this -awful war--_cette guerre desesperant_--goes on. For it has to do with -it--with the war. You want to hear it, surely?" - -"Yes," I replied, "Gabrielle, I do indeed. Is it some of the visits -again from the other world which we agreed should be discontinued?" - -"Yes, Alfred, it is," Gabrielle looked up at me with a scrutiny -of wistful, almost beseeching ardor, and as I remained silent she -continued, "Alfred, the DEAD come back to me! They speak to me. Oh, -more than that, they throng my room, and in my ears sounds the endless -wailing of their prayers." - -"Prayers?" I repeated, aroused now into a sudden repulsion of these -renewed surrenders to the old-time madness. - -"Yes, Alfred, _Prayers_. I do not hear them now in Paris, but at -St. Choiseul the night long they have assailed my ears with piteous -prayers. I have endured it without confiding it to anyone, the dreadful -matter, but I have so wanted to tell you." - -"But Gabrielle, why do you surrender to this delusion? It will wear -you to death. Ah sister, be very careful. We are alone in this great -world now, and you are everything to me. These nightmares will turn -your reason, unhinge your strength. Put them all to flight as you did -before." - -"Ah, Alfred it is different now--much different. Really the old visions -were soft and gentle and pleasant, and I accepted them as pictures -almost of lovely beings, happy and serene and sympathetic. But these -are so dreadful. At first I screamed with terror at them or just shrank -into myself and shuddered. I did put them to flight, Alfred. I begged -Julie to sleep in the room with me, and then they never came. But just -to see what it all meant I tried several times to sleep alone and the -things came thicker and faster as the war went on. I resisted my fear, -but the misery of these wounded and broken spirits--as it was shown to -me--was killing me. I once more drove them all away by getting Julie to -come to my room. One night Julie awoke me and said there was someone -or something in the room. We started up in the bed, and looked about -the room, and then that light you once saw came again, but no figure, -just a wonderful shimmering of threads of mellow light, traced through -the air of the room, and flowing out of the open window like skeins of -smoke caught in a draught. Julie clutched me and cried, and her voice -broke the spell--if spell it was--the light vanished and nothing more -happened that night." - -"How long has this been going on?" I asked in suspense, in half -incredulity. - -"It began after the first days of the war. But at first the voices -were indistinct, and the visions vague and shadowy. I did not mind -that. I thought it would wear off, and the spirits go away. They did -for a while, but after the battle of Mons suddenly at night I saw an -awful picture, not the battle field, but the ascending shades drifting -upward from it like innumerable specks of vapor. Ah Alfred, how shall I -describe it? I seemed to be carried there. It was a dream, and yet it -was full of reality to me, and the ground, the wrecked villages, the -streets strewn with the dead and dying, were all half hidden; sometimes -in the dream altogether erased, by the multitudes of the shades going -on, and on, and on, up and up, and up, in smoky masses, with faces and -limbs spectral and ghostly, like some vast current of fog shaped into -human forms." - -"Well," I groaned, "what next?" - -"I awoke, and there was nothing--nothing--but an hour later the voices -were resumed and they murmured and murmured, and words now and then -were understood, like 'Have Mercy'--'Oh God my wife'--'My home,' and -then furious words like blasphemies. Ah Alfred, it was terrible," and -the woman hid her face in my lap and shook convulsively. - -"Gabrielle, my sister, how have you gone through with all this misery? -Our father and mother dead, and these horrible visitations! I must get -well quickly and together we will go to St. Choiseul, and then I can -see for myself if such things can be." - -"Can be, Alfred? You do not doubt me, do you? I am indeed telling you -the very truth, and you will wound me to the heart if you think that I -have been deluded, or am deceiving you." - -Her loving, tender eyes were filled with the tears of remonstrance. I -seized her arms, and brought her to my breast, and embraced and kissed -her, whispering with all the devotion of my soul, "No Gabrielle, I know -that these things have, in their way, happened, and that your tired -senses and strained nerves may have actually created them, worn out as -we all are with this grievous trial. And the _Prayers_, darling. What -were they when they were intelligible? Could you make them out--tell -me." - -"At first I could only recognize them as supplications by the imploring -voices, and then later they often became distinguishable as short cries -for help and mercy, and deliverance, and then short staccato calls, as -if from madness, insanity, brutality, unrighteousness. Lately and here -in Paris I have not heard them, and I control myself better--" the last -words were spoken by my sister hesitatingly, or at least slowly, as if -she felt unwilling to utter them. I noticed the indecision at once. - -"What is it, Gabrielle--your control? Have you yielded to the old -temptation--the feeling that you wished to summon the DEAD?" - -"Alfred," the voice was very low, and Gabrielle cast her eyes down, as -if depressed by some unwonted shame of contrition; "Alfred, although -I say that I exert no power to open the communications with the -spirit world, yet I believe that in some unconscious way I actually -summon these to me. Watching myself in the voluntary movements of my -mind, I detect at times that without my volition, my mind assumes the -mediumistic poise, as the books say. I am ashamed of it, and I think -it is wicked. That makes me dread these visions for, perhaps, they are -simply satanic. Oh what shall I do?" - -Poor girl, worn out with service, beaten to the earth with sorrow, -and now devitalized, unwillingly surrendering herself to the--to -me--abhorrent power she seemed endowed with, to materialize the dead, -and converse with the other side of the veil of life! The refuge of -my partnership with her of these secrets was an immense relief. I -gathered together my strength, and forced the laugh to my lips, and -the merry words to my lips also, for her sake. Thus, with a deepening -mutual absorption in each other, brother and sister grew inseparable in -feeling and in thought and in affections. - -It was almost three weeks later that I was permitted to leave the -hospital, and return with my sister to St. Choiseul. It was a return -strangely mingling the accents of sorrow, with the notes of a sudden -joy. The autumn lights were beautiful, and the darkening vineyards, -and the striped hop poles, the yet radiant gladiolus and the glancing -lustres of the streams, the long peaceful perspectives, unsullied -by war, the romantic cluster of the ivy coated ruins of the chateau -towards Briois, the winding road, the straight sentinel line of -poplars, and the unchanged village--empty and silent perhaps--crowning -the slow ascent, bathed in the soft atmosphere of dewy sweetness--_Mon -Dieu_, it almost made me swoon away with ecstacy! - -And here at our doorway, was the little circle, Père Antoine, Père -Grandin, the _Capitaine_, and Privat Deschat, Hortense, and Julie, and -the pale faded loveliness of the orphan girl, Dora, but no father or -mother was there. The tears rose to my eyes; it was impossible to check -their almost unnoticed flow. - -I fell into their arms. I kissed them all. I was half swooning with the -pain of my affection. - -"My son, how good it is to see you again, the vampire has not swallowed -you up--_Dieu soit benit_;" that was Père Antoine. - -"Ah Alfred, you see the plague has not touched us yet--the desecrating -fiends were near. Yes, they were seen east of Briois--foraging, And -you? Well? You look grave. Ah! it is not a time for smiles;" that was -Père Grandin. - -"Alfred, where are the Boches now? Where? _Ma foi_ it is not this -time as it was in '70. You shall tell us all. It is _un histoire -magnifique_. The flag is supreme;" that was the _Capitaine_. - -"_Maître_ Alfred, you must not leave us again. _Souvenez vous_--I will -make the _galette aux amandes chaque jour_? Eh? You will not go away -again?" that was Hortense. - -They all laughed a little. But Hortense wiped her eyes with her broad -apron. - -"Ah Gabrielle, we have been unhappy without you--all of us. Never, -_never_, shall you go away again--OR--you take me with you, and the -_Capitaine_;" that was Dora, and her pallid face, with the serious -eyes, haunted now always with sorrow, the expressive index of her -life's tragedy, flushed ever so slightly, and her arms were flung about -my sister's neck, and she was caught again by Gabrielle, in her own -blessed arms of reassurance and protection. - -"Well Alfred, we are all traveling the same road together now. Death -walks at everyone's side. But they who have died on the battlefield, -they have sown in their own ashes the seeds of Redemption." And the -speaker's voice rose, so that we felt startled at its suddenness. -"They will yet fight as avenging spirits. They are about us now. When -Heaven is too full of them they will descend, and destroy the enemy. -_La Patrie_ is Eternal;" _that_ was Privat Deschat. - -This last apostrophe awkwardly dampened the moment's happiness, and we -went into the house slowly and silently, as if to the summons of an -obsequy. When Deschat mentioned the descending spirits I saw Gabrielle -quail and draw Dora to her side in a trembling spasm of alarm. - -Slowly we entered the house. I shuddered in a momentary realization -that its master and mistress were no longer sanctioning its -hospitality. But how peaceful and comforting it all was! I felt -embraced by the manifold tendernesses of form and picture and color and -furnishment. Around the table of the dining room that evening in the -cheerful splendor of the old oil lamp, with the shadows, grotesquely -friendly, moving over the walls, we sat together, while Hortense and -Julie outdid themselves in overloading the table with _les pièces -precieuses de la cuisine_. I hardly dared to taste these delicacies. -It seemed a profanation. Those suffering patient men at the front, so -often almost starving! It was an impiety against patriotism to feast so -lavishly. - -I touched almost nothing, buried in sombre memories. The regalement -was darkened by my abrupt disillusionment, and I could not easily -rehearse my experience. I begged them to excuse me--another time I -would go through it all, but just then--Ah surely they understood. -There were so many reasons for hesitation, for suspense, for -silence. They were most sympathetic, and I, who was to have been the -_raconteur_, sat now almost moodily amongst them, and listened to the -news of the neighborhood, as one and the other kept up the trivial -narration. - -How the Uhlans had been seen by little Mimette Collot prancing along a -highway toward Cabrelet, how the thunders from the constant attrition -eastward, between the armies, had kept them all awake at night; how the -English soldiers had visited them and they had turned their pantries -inside out to welcome and refresh them; how a _taube_ had wheeled and -droned above them, like some colossal bumble bee, and how it dropped -one bomb in a pasturage, and had killed a young mother cow and her -calf; how good Mother Webbe--she at the crossroads where you go east -toward Landrecies and Mons--had given a young English soldier on a -motorcycle a full glass of _vin de prunes_, and he had fallen from his -cycle along the roadside "dead-drunk"--_un ivrogne jusque mort_--; the -dear soul had thought it was only _vin ordinaire_; how the men had -deserted the country-side to enlist, and the old men and the women, the -boys and girls, had taken their places; how the Diligence had a woman -driver now, and how she dressed in man's clothes, and how bitter she -was with the horses, just to seem more mannish--_comme un homme_. - -They told how the troops had filled the roads moving eastward, and -with them the long files of ambulances, of ammunition vans, of cannon -carriages; how when the news came of our victory the church bells were -rung, bonfires were made in the streets, and processions of boys and -girls went up and down the roads singing the Marseillaise. - -But somehow the spirit of our reunion dragged and drooped, and I -suppose it was all my fault. The oppression of despair had seized me. I -could not escape a sense of doom, not exactly my own, or the country's, -but some vague awfulness of desolation, approaching with black -pestilence--breathing power, to desecrate and ravage the earth. It kept -me dumb. And all of this uneasy and ungracious apathy or morose grief, -had developed since I entered the house--where at first the happiness -of refuge seemed so inexpressible. - -When I bade them "Good night," I said some stumbling words about my -disappointment with myself, and promised to make amends. I needed -rest. My body and soul, my mind were ill at ease. And so they left me, -that clear star-lit night as the rising wind, threatening frosts or -snow, rocketed upward with gusty roars from the house-tops, and rushed -away with a wail that almost sounded to me as the incorporeal echo of -those ravenous moans and cries, those palpitating shrieks, that I had -heard sweep across the battlefield, and that, as the hours waned died -away in death. - - * * * * * - -I recovered my strength but slowly, and there were recurrent lapses -into periods of frightful depression, nervousness, and I fear -irritability, that tried the devoted soul of Gabrielle, who remained -unchanged in her devotion, and unceasing in her soothing ministrations. -We often talked about the strange apparitions, and the voices, and the -weaving and winnowed lights, but there was no return to Gabrielle of -these visitations. She had gained in strength, her old time loveliness -of face bloomed again, and, delighted with my companionship, she -withheld--if indeed they assaulted her at all, or essayed to--the -disembodied souls. Gabrielle was utterly transparent and confessed -everything. I know that for at least seven months, there literally was -no return of the manifestations. Because they seemed to have vanished -entirely we permitted ourselves to talk them over freely, and it -amused me. The terrifying thought though often arose, in the minds of -both of us, that the discharged multitudes of spirits, shot almost -into eternity, clung to the earth. Their gathering increasing shades -haunted the loved earth, and their affections, somehow still retained -for the living, nursed in them a rising anger at the continuance of the -slaughters. - -For the war went on; west and east the perpetual deluge of shells and -shrapnel and bullets, the surges of poisonous gases, the savagery -of assassination, and the cruelty of the bayonet, were emptying -homes, thinning the ranks, and draining the country of its best, its -strongest, men. And now came the trench lines; the insinuating deep -gutters in the earth, worming themselves this way and that, here in -unutterable perplexity of entrance and exit, there more simple, running -on with occasional dug-outs and bomb-proof dungeons, cellar-like -dismal caverns of darkness, humidity, and sickness. Stuck in them -at various intervals were the platoons of shooting men, the hunters -after other men's lives, quick, almost instinctive in their scent of -opportunity, almost wolfish in their ample placidity of intention to -take those other men's lives, if they could reach them. The long lines -of subterranean fortification, stretching, with irregular intervals of -defenselessness, like broad gaps in a strong fence, swept over fields, -and up hills, and over rivers, and through villages, junketed ever and -anon with ruins, shattered homes, or burrowing like the entrails of -a corrupting cancer under churches, and massing hither and thither, -in coils of black and muddy gashes, like the redoubled and tangled -intestines of an animal. - -Here went on the daily work of murder, helped by the batteries, and -at propitious moments intensified into the uttermost diabolism by the -whine, scream, and tear of shells, the detonations of shrapnel, and the -thudding din of cannon, the whipping, ping-pong hiss of bullets. And -following that splenetic outburst the sudden bolt forward of regiments -of men might follow; headlong charges, frenzied rushes, dashes through -a hail of shot, men tumbling this way and that, wounded, dying, dead, -and then the ferocity of bodily collision with stabs from bayonets, and -slashes from swords and all in a tense silence, save for the oppressed -suspiration, the swish of brushing bodies pinned to each other, a -momentary cry of pain, smothered objurgations. - -Over the wavering line of lethal burrows, high in the air, swung or -raced the bird-like combatants of the French and the Germans, their -shadows sometimes thrown upon a cloud, sometimes drifting over the -ground in a grotesque patch--a mere spot perhaps--of gray. Thus the -mortal combat sullied the pure air with its disorder. Up to those armed -fliers rose the stark stenches of the earth--the smell of unburied -corpses--and their eagle eyes looked down upon long stretches of torn -mud flats, ploughed by missiles, dreary plains of desolation, beaten -into a black and brown hideousness of confused holes and gaping rents, -gouged out hillsides, heaped mounds of fantastic earth, stippled -everywhere with the half hidden bodies of the dead. - -From Ostend to Arras, from Arras to Maubeuge, from Maubeuge to Vouzier, -the indented, buried, smoking furrows of human explosives stretched its -weary length, concealing armies; hiding, in its ambuscades and pits and -mines, volcanoes of ammunition, a vast aneurism draining two nations of -their life and substance. What was a half stifled combat here in the -east in Galicia and in Poland was a fiercer conflict, and from there -as from here--in the west--each hour sent to some home the stab of -bereavement. - -I could not return to my work. Recurrent chills and nervous breakdowns, -constantly augmented by the horrible agony of this insufferable crime, -kept my mind weakened, my body helpless. - -It was a little more than seven months after the repulse of the -invaders at the Battle of the Marne, that the strange symptoms of the -spirit visitation that had troubled Gabrielle returned with appalling -violence. The spring about St. Choiseul had filled the hills and the -valleys with a wonderful beauty, more entrancing because the season had -prevailed with rain, and this had imbued the skies with a fascinating -vaporousness, which, suffused with sunlight, made the picture about -us in the lowlands so lovely in its grace and clinging softness of -light and shades. This sweet peacefulness made the horrid nightmare -of the war, only a few miles away, more unbearable and hateful. How -often that spring Gabrielle and I sat out on the porch late into the -night, amid the renewed fragrance of the flowers, the rising chorus of -the insect and tree life, murmuring in field and stream and wood and -along the grassy edges of the highway, talking over the miseries of our -dear land! Gabrielle had worn herself to skin and bone--as the English -say--with her work in the hospital at Paris, and now together, both -melancholy and disabled, we lingered long in thoughtful communion on -what the meaning and upshot of this unwearied struggle might be. - -Perhaps it was about the middle of April, 1915, that late at night--it -might have been after midnight--as I read in my room some late reports -and personal letters from the front, my door--the one leading from my -room into Gabrielle's, opened, and my sister appeared at the entrance, -in her night dress. In her face was a wild, startled look, as of one -who had been surprised in her sleep by some awful dream, and yet -trembled under the malign shock. - -"Gabrielle," I cried, myself moved to the outcry by her famished, -stricken, hunted look, "What is it? Are you ill?" - -She did not answer at once, but stole towards me with a wavering -stealthiness, as of one escaping from a pursuer. When she was at my -side--I had leaped to my feet in consternation and alarm--she flung -her arms around my neck, and in a choking whisper, that half audible -mixture of breathing and utterance which betokens physical and nervous -exhaustion, said: - -"Alfred, the spirits are here again, and they crowd my room; they -are filling this room now. Don't you feel them? Have you seen, felt, -heard nothing? They are the ghosts of the slain--I know it, for they -tell me so, and their faces are so imploring--They ask me to stop the -war. They tell me--" her voice grew stronger, and in the rush of her -emotion and excitement the words followed faster and faster, but still -her voice was a whisper only--"They tell me I can help. And O! Alfred -their cry for Mercy is piteous. They feel the pain of those who have -lost them--whom they have lost too. A voice came to my ears, clear and -calm: 'Help us! Help us! Our sadness is yours. We wished to live. -Death for us is wrong--too soon--too soon--too soon;' and then it died -away, like a fading bell-note, far, far away. And Alfred the voice -sounded to me like Sebastien's. O! Alfred there are others too--and -some--" she shuddered in my arms, and clasped me convulsively, as if -the pain of the recollection were too great to bear. - -"Gabrielle," I answered, now aroused and almost terrified, "stay here. -Are you quite well? The morning must soon break. Rest on my bed. We -will watch it out. And--and--perhaps Gabrielle it will be best for us -to leave this strange, bewitched place." My voice was loud. Its very -loudness seemed to reassure her. - -She released my arms, and controlling herself sank into the armchair I -had risen from. She pressed her hands to her brows and her eyes closed. -A moment later she opened them, looked steadfastly at me, then turned, -without rising, and looked about the room in a dazed scrutiny, as if -searching for something. Her wandering eyes returned to my face. I bent -suddenly in surprise towards her. She was smiling. The staggering fancy -crossed my mind that Gabrielle might have lost her reason. Anguish and -despair and sympathy had spread madness and dementia throughout France -already, that I knew. - -"Alfred they have gone; how wonderful! Your loud words cleared the room -of the crowding host. Alfred it _was_ a host. I felt their presence -before I woke. But they come like air; they vanish as darkness vanishes -at the touch of day." - -"Gabrielle, no more of it now. No. Rest. Sleep. I will sit up and -read. I have letters to write to men at the front, in the trenches -whom I know, who know me, who expect to hear from me. I have packed a -wagon-load of things for these brave boys, and it goes to the front -tomorrow. I wish I could go with it. But--" - -"No Alfred--O! No!--not now! Do not leave me. Some strange powers are -working, and in the voices I have heard I feel the approach of a vast -spiritual finale." - -"Why, Gabrielle, what do you mean? Stay. No more of it tonight. My -brusqueness has chased them away. If a little noise scares these -mockers, I can always furnish that." - -I laughed and chided my sister for her seriousness. But Gabrielle -rebuked me. I rebuked myself. A strange oppressive and yet merciful -theory was shaping itself in my mind. I apprehended that a mysterious -supernatural power might be summoned to end the war. And--Yes, so I -thought--Gabrielle might be its protagonist and avatar. - -I helped my sister to my bed, and when she again had regained her -cheerfulness, and welcome sleep--that chrism of the Almighty to vexed -hearts and minds--closed her eyes, I resumed my work. The silence was -the very enclosure of the grave. But then it was like the grave in -nothing else. The spring air, dewy, warm, perfumed, entered the room, -and once or twice when I looked out of the window the shimmering stars -shone in a velvet night over a world buried in slumber. All of the -gentle twitterings and murmurs of the night seemed stilled. I think I -fell asleep myself, for I awoke with a strange, a most benumbing sense -of confinement, of restraint that I could not define, but perhaps was -most easily compared to an immersion in some high pressure atmosphere. -I felt suffocated. I sprang to my feet. The lamp was flickering as -if about to go out, but its light fell on my watch, which recorded -the hour as 2:30 past midnight. Someone stood at my side. I felt the -presence, as we instinctively do--a cognition like a telepathy. It -was Gabrielle again. Her face was pale and her eyes gazed, as if in -a spell, upon the space above my head; her hands gropingly rested -now on my arm. I waited for her to speak, and almost immediately the -flickering flame of the lamp expired. We were in darkness. - -But we were not _alone_. Some kinesthetic sense made me aware of -beings, entities, existencies, about me. I yielded to the impression -that a peculiar nervous excitation, a thrilled expectancy, as though -the next instant some miracle of strangeness would befall me, was due -to this influence of an invisible flood of spirits, or souls, or what -you will, that had invaded the room. It was Gabrielle's voice that -spoke in my ears, it was her arms again that encircled my neck. - -"Alfred, again! They are all about us; and Alfred," the voice sank to a -whisper, "the spirit of Sebastien Quintado is here too." - -I could not restrain the impetuous cry that broke from my lips. -Perhaps, were it rightly interpreted, it was fear, the sudden effort -to restore some balance of sanity in the madness of a nightmare, that -forced this outburst. I only knew that I almost shouted: - -"Gabrielle, Gabrielle! You have gone mad." I sprang to the lamp and -relit it. The pale lights of morning were streaking the sky, and the -vocal welcome of Nature was breaking out from myriad throats in the -wide jubilation of the spring's resurrection. - -Gabrielle was on her knees before me with her face bowed within her -embracing hands. I raised her up, and we walked together to the window -in silence. Upon us both fell the overwhelming consciousness that our -home had become a _rendez-vous for the spirits of the slain_. _It was -haunted. But to what end?_ - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -GOD'S HAND - - -Neither Gabrielle nor I spoke of these marvellous matters to anyone. It -was of course connected with my sister's peculiar power of mediumistic -control. The appearances were oddly varied, and we began to associate -the return of the spirits with certain atmospheric conditions. Then -there was a notable increase--if it could be so called--of these -mysterious visitants after heavy engagements, when we might assume -that the hosts of the disembodied had been greatly augmented. For -weeks the conditions of the house were normal, and there would be no -manifestations--manifestations which I myself began to appreciate -and detect. The times most favorable for the discarnate effects were -the still nights, and more generally after cold days than after hot -ones. Dark nights were not necessarily preferred, as on a wonderfully -splendid moonlight night, my sister saw the myriad shapes and lines of -these, shall I call them GHOSTS? I remember feeling myself the thrill -of some electric-like sensation penetrating my nerves, and half caught -before my eyes the scintillations of tiny specks of light. - -At first we were both not a little frightened. The tremendous impact of -this mass of disembodied creatures broke down our mental equilibrium. -We felt suddenly half immersed in the other world, and felt too the -oncoming _denouement_ which, apprehended but unforeseen, awaited -this spectral deluge. How often we sat at nights, deep into the -night, at the front door under the leaf-embowered porch, fearful of -entrance into the house, which had become a sort of _adytum_, which -we might not penetrate, evicted as we were, by the unbidden tenants, -that swarmed from grave, and trench, and field, hilltop and valley, -from the crevices of walls, and the streets of villages, the cellars -of churches, and the torn up holes of tree-roots. We might indeed -have instituted--as at times I suggested--a sort of analysis of the -psychical constants of these disembodied beings whose actuality neither -of us doubted for an instant. We might have noted the exact moments of -their larger recurrence, the intervals of their absence, the occasions -when they became vocal, the peculiarities of their incidence upon -ourselves in our physical sensations, or mental susceptibilities, or -emotional response, if such observations were possible--that is if we -could discover that the presence of these souls (?) affected us in -those three elements of our existence at all. - -Nothing of a systematic record was kept, but certain very sharp -and certain hopelessly hazy impressions are quite, by me, easily -recalled. The sharp impressions were in the nature of shocks allied -with what might be less flatteringly called _frights_, and the hazy -ones were indubitably aural influences such as have been determined as -electrical, or epileptic, or hysteric. Naturally the latter possess -the greater interest and have more to do with the extra-natural -mystical agencies of spirits. Perhaps it would not be amiss to describe -these--not too tediously--before I rehearse the last convincing stages -of the spiritualistic manifestations as they ushered in the final -descent of the "_Other World_" for the shame of human strife, and the -obliterating arrest of this infernal, this demoralizing, this vast -national embroilment of bitterness and hatred, that has unloosed the -satanic energies of HELL to the confusion of _Faith_ and _Hope_ and -_Charity_. - -An experience of the first sort, followed immediately by the aural -influence, took place about the beginning of June in 1916. It was a -beautiful day, the light gloriously brilliant, and the summer fragrance -of St. Choiseul filling our little world with its inexhaustible -presence of roses, when, as I stood at my open window, leaning outward -to regale my senses with the precious offerings of the earth and -sky, I felt a wind, perhaps without any precise quality of heat or -coolness, blow over me, although not a breath of the moving atmosphere -outside stirred leaf or blade or flower, and then supervened a loss of -consciousness, a relaxation of my body in sleep, and I, overcome with -this unnatural drowsiness against which I forlornly struggled, sank -into a chair, and did not recover consciousness before the evening. Now -on that day was fought the battle of the ---- which killed 5000 men -here in the west, while almost simultaneously the conflict in Poland -added another 5000 to the number of the slain. There could be no doubt -that my unconsciousness partook of the immediate character of syncope, -or, to be even more scientific, that it was lethal, and might have -terminated my life. That is my firm conviction. From a later experience -I have become convinced that the ingestion so to speak into the air of -the disembodied, actually devitalizes the atmosphere, and produces in -those subjected to their multitudinous contact, asphyxiation. I awoke -from my sleep wearied and apathetic. - -The second occasion happened at night, and was not attributable to -any sudden influx of the dead from contemporaneous battles. I have no -theory to explain it. I was asleep in my bed. It was in the following -August. I awoke with a start, almost as if I had been struck, and -realized the most curious tingling inside my head, as if a thousand -or more needles were therein busily engaged in employing their myriad -points upon my sensitive tissues. It was an excruciating agony, -not exactly acutely painful, but maddeningly intolerable and nerve -racking and confusing. It was unendurable. Instinctively I clapped -the bedclothes to my head and instantly there was complete relief. -Exposing my head again to this outside atmospheric bombardment the -agony recurred. I maintained my self-possession and actually tried the -experiment over and over again of alternately putting my head outside -of the bedclothes and then covering it with them. The effects were -constant, and the inference unimpeachable that the air contained some -agencies that exasperated my brain and pierced its envelope of skull, -while the interposition of the loose textures of the bed-coverings -stopped it. I can add authoritatively, that, as might have been -expected, the thicker the covering of my head the more complete the -relief, while upon no other part of my exposed body was any effect -noticeable. The irritatable surfaces were confined to my head only. Not -the spinal column nor the ganglionic centres along the thigh responded -to this inexplicable force. There was no cessation of this attack -throughout the night, but it slowly quieted down and disappeared as -the day broke. The aural effects upon me were dual in character. They -were physiological to the extent of producing a severe intermittent -headache, and they were psychic or mental inasmuch as they provoked an -irrepressible activity of thought, and, quite humiliatingly, with it, -an extreme emotional irritability. So cross did I become that I left -the house, and exhausted myself walking about the country to rid myself -of this abominable disagreeableness. - -Another experience distinctly connected with the frightful cost of -the assaults upon the German trenches in September, 1915, took place -in that month, a few days after the engagements--the suggestion might -be hazarded that it requires some time for the "ghosts" to assemble -themselves and repair to any agreed upon _rendez-vous_--when entering -the house at evening, both my sister and myself became stifled with the -strange suffocating effect of the air. It was irrespirable. I muttered -"Again the spirits." The conclusion was ludicrous enough. We fell -to our knees and crawled out of the room. In fact the circumstances -resembled exactly the entrance of irrespirable gases into a room of -pure air, and the consequent escape of the victims by creeping along -the floor. - -I must now state that these material effects were much more noticeable -with me than with my sister. My sister, as the foregoing pages have -reiterated was familiar with the spiritual world, and her powers -of mediumistic control had been successfully evoked. She had indeed -been visited apparently by numbers of the dead, and no unpleasant -bodily sensations had been felt. The voices _alone_ had become to -her unendurable, but for many months now these voices had been -stilled, as it were; in fact ever since that moment when she saw the -wraith of Sebastien Quintado above us in my room their intelligible -articulations had not been heard--hearing meaning a kind of _inaudible -utterance_ within the veil of the mind or soul. I do not think that -I ever attained the sensitivity necessary to distinguish the voices, -though, whether it was imagination or reality, my ears have possibly at -moments rung with an indescribable confused murmur. And never, until -the last _materialization_, did I discern faces. I except the special -incarnation of Blanchette. These incidents, I have recalled, have -only the slenderest value to establish any facts associated with the -nature and functions of the disembodied, and they need not be further -extended. Let me at once come to the ultimate act of this inexpressible -drama. - -My readers all know how, upon the approach of the spring of 1917, the -Allies and their Teutonic adversaries prepared for the last desperate -struggle, how it had become almost mutually understood that the fierce -death-grapple should be undertaken outside of the trenches, and that -the arbitrament of war, under skies darkened by all the most hideous -emissions of shell, canister, powder, and infernal machines of poison, -should be attempted in a colossal conflict, that strains the mind to -conceive, and that might have approached in its horribleness of means -and results, the very uttermost image of the _End of All Things_. -The huge forces on both sides were assembled within the ten thousand -miles of trenches, that had converted the northeastern edges of our -country into a subterranean battlefield. From these trenches, almost -so arranged by some supervising destiny, they were to arise, like -implacable fiends or bloodless furies, and plunge their regiments, -their brigades, their squadrons, their divisions, their armies against -each other, in an unutterable tremendousness of slaughter, that -might have rent the vault of Heaven, if any feeling, any sympathy, -any recognition, any compassion, any power resided there! All of the -resources were accumulated, and the last promised carnage proclaimed -the extinction of civilized man in Europe. - -Well that was the situation. On the eastern front the war had subsided. -Russia was practically fought to a standstill, and though, with the -customary Muscovite happiness of pretension, the Bear addressed his -allies with pompous declarations, no one seriously thought of him. -The Balkan turmoil had also simmered down to expectation simply. The -invasion of Egypt and the upheaval of the Indian mutineers had not so -very considerably materialized. Indeed everything now hung and was made -to hang, upon this final, incalculable, terrible decision. Would either -side survive its furious exterminating madness? Rumania was destroyed. - -See what it meant. Two gigantic armies confronted each other over a -line of two hundred and fifty miles, and the last resources of all -the armaments of the magnified and reinforced invention of the great -nations of Europe had been marshalled together to bring to some lasting -decision the desecrating ravages of this racial duel. From the plain of -Antwerp and the winding valleys of the Meuse, to the hilltops of the -Marne, from Chalons to the slopes of the Vosges, the steel-bristling -squadrons, carrying in their flanks volcanic fires, watched each other -nervously, and yet, with a stolidity, born of custom and the grim -confidence of an irreparable doom; with a detachment also from earthly -ties, that made them seem like, almost like, discarnate beings. But -to these men, brought there from the ends of Europe, to meet DEATH, -as they might meet the morning or the evening of the common day, each -country, throughout its fields and shires, its wards and towns, its -bourgesses and departments and communes, its duchies, and electorates, -would soon become an empty cenotaph. - -Ah, but that was not all. There was a miracle in it. Yes, a miracle. -God had moved the minds of the leaders towards this vast _denouement_. -The huge military programme, replete with bristling glories of arms and -men, the caparisoned squadrons of cavalry, the wide-mouthed, serried -cannon, the lumpy groups of the squandering "Busy Berthas," and "Jack -Johnsons," that wasted the ransom of kings in a few hours, the crowding -millions of men covering square miles of desolated countrysides, the -pitched tents, where the electric service, installed with thousands of -wires, kept the tendrilous nets of communication quivering with orders, -despatches, and rumors, the littered commissariats, filling screened -refuges with barrels, wagons, soup-kitchens, and interminable bales of -food, the long ranges of the hospital equipments, the stretchers, the -Red-Cross orderlies, the waiting doctors in barracks and in tents, the -auto-ambulances, the piled ramparts of bandages, and near at hand in -loosely framed operating chambers the sweet sickly odors of ether and -iodiform, and then back of all, along interminable alleys, the loaded -ammunition vans, carrying the shells and canisters, the cartridges -and gas engines and back again of these the grouped multitudes of -spectators--all of this vast spectacle, repeated on the opposite line -of the enemy--_vis-a-vis_--was thus concentrated, by a common impulse -in both camps, for the irrevocable decision, _because GOD willed it_. - -In such a grandiose style should the last act of HIS interposition be -culminated, and the races of the earth should learn from the cavernous -receptacles of spirit, from the shrined multitudes of the DEAD, -enwrapped in the boundless fields of sky and star and cloud, issuing -perchance from the wide-swung gates of Paradise, or Heaven, or of Hell -itself--of the overwhelming pressure of the OTHER WORLD, learn thus too -of the maintenance of sympathy between the affairs this side, and the -affairs that side, of the narrow gap of DEATH! So it was. - -But wonderful things had happened in the summer of 1916 and in its -early autumn. There had been awful carnage at Verdun where the Teuton -attempted to drive through to Paris and where the Gallic defiance -rang out, _Ils ne passeron pas_. To and fro had the lines wavered, -each interval strewn with innumerable corpses; the curtains of fire -had swept to and fro and in their murderous folds life had expired -as the flames destroy the swarming moths at harvest. Super-human -deeds of valor had amazed the world that watched the struggle with -terror-stricken eyes, and at last the Germans were pushed backward -and the valleys of the Meuse, its hills and fields, its villages lay -scorched, blackened, upheaved, overthrown, scarred from end to end, -with most damnable desolation. - -And northward the English had, along the Somme, struck at the Teuton -with savage fury. The skies had been eclipsed with thunderous -avalanches of fire, and for days the satanic deluge of shot and shell -had stricken the German into helpless panic. Beyond Albert, with -headlong rushes animated by God only knows what courage, the Briton -had reached Thiepval Ginchy, Guillemont Clery and then shot forward -with staggering, awful vehemence towards Bapaume and Peronne, and the -defenses of the enemy, assailed on all sides, were melting away, and -the invasion promised the greatest results. Except on the east the -German forces seemed exhausted and the debacle had begun. The Allies -were ready for the supreme effort. - -Yes--there had been talk of PEACE--and, for one short moment, the world -reeled almost in its dazed wonder-stricken joy. But the war-clouds -closed again, and the steel-toothed, fire-shrouded fight stormed out -again. - -And then there had been another change. Their long line of armament -had again been pushed further west by the Germans, who had forced -our lines back, and again threatened the safety of Paris, had indeed -so far trespassed over France, that their trenches and up-flung -fortifications, their mounded parapets and encircling redoubts, broke -in the line from Maubeuge, Rocroi, Dinant, Mézières, and Montmedy, -eastward to Laon, again to Soissons, Compiègne, to Rheims, and now -indeed, from the high ruined tower of the Chateau at La Ferté the -trench line of the Teutons could be distinctly seen. The matter -is important for _there_ Gabrielle summoned--summoned I say--the -disembodied to the great intervention. _Ne riez pas; c'est vrai, le -dernier mot de verité intime. Attendez! Vous savez bien la grande chose -qui finit la guerre!_ - -All of this happened in the winter of 1917. And about the first of -April of that spring--let me see--that was on a Sunday morning, -Gabrielle came into my room--before our breakfast--and sat down at the -window, that one looking west. She had been to early mass, her face was -drawn and inspired, her eyes were large and frightened, and she was -trembling with excitement. - -I had been reading and scarcely noticed her entrance. The instant my -eyes met hers I started with alarm. - -"_Gabrielle qu'avez vous?_ What is it? The GHOSTS?" - -She rose softly and came towards me. Then she knelt at my side, and -looking rather down at her moving fingers than at me, told me this -wonderful thing: One word--the spirits had not visited us for months, -and we had, partly at least, forgotten them, in the busy work of the -relief, and the frequent visits hither and thither, on errands of the -Red-Cross mission. Gabrielle spoke rapidly in parts of her narrative, -and then she hesitated, and seemed absent-minded, worn, and bewildered, -but as she went on her words flowed abundantly and fastly,--so you -remember it was before--and as she ended she had risen, and her -expression assumed a peculiar vividness of--of--Ah how shall I say?--of -seraphic beauty! - -Yes, yes, it was just so. _Vraiment!_ - -"Alfred last night about two o'clock towards morning, I seemed to be -awake, and I _saw_--Alfred I was not awake, it was a vision in my -dreams--the figure of Sebastien Quintado like a blade of light standing -at my bed-side, his eyes fixed into mine so that I was spell-bound--" -Gabrielle here stopped, and her face blushed, I thought, with a kind -of modest shame I could not comprehend--"Finally he spoke, and his -voice sounded like an echo; I seemed just to hear it. Sometimes it grew -louder, and then it faded and died away and I thought I leaned towards -him to catch his words--so it seemed Alfred. He said this: - -"'Gabrielle! Gabrielle! the spirits need you. The great war ends. -The millions who have died, who now, as I do, repine in spirit-land, -have gathered together, thousands upon thousands, upon thousands, and -GOD sends them to stop the slaughter. God has dispensed council--the -council of willfulness--to the nations and their generals, and in a -little while they will assemble the vast armies on the west, and try -out the conflict _in one great battle_. So it will be determined; So -God wills it. - -"'And then Gabrielle _WE_--the millions of the dead, those torn away -from wives and children, from youth and love and joy, from friends and -country, from all of the ambitions which animate our kind on earth; we -will flock like clouds, when the north wind blows over St. Choiseul, -and descend, visible, luminous, vocal, from the glowing skies, and -from us, Gabrielle, will proceed a terrible Paralysis--Ay more--an -undeniable dread and weakness. - -"'It will, like a contagion, spread throughout the armies from rank -to rank, from private to general, and back again; it will freeze the -blood, it will dwindle the heart, it will thrill the brain. Before -it bravery becomes a shrinking, ambition a regret, the thought of -conflict a remorse. It will do more. It will slowly become a strange, -unendurable, gnawing, piercing, scorching, internal pain, a pain so -bitter and keen, that flesh will refuse its infliction, and so there -will enter in that innumerable host just one thought--FLIGHT! - -"'It will not be, though, the FLIGHT of cowards, but of -Conscience-stricken men. And then a greater thing will come. There will -be _no Flight_; the pain will manacle their feet, will stifle their -voices, will wither their wills--one monstrous Stupor will overcome -them, and for three days and a night, like the men overcome with sleep -that watched the Apostle St. Peter in the prison, the armies of the -Nations will sleep--Ay--and sleep in PAIN! - -"'We shall abide above them. Our millions, by night and day, will -perpetually afflict them. By day we will be unseen, by night we shall -be seen. And from every particle of our incorporeal beings will flow -the influence of our terror and our punishment. There will be no -mitigation. GOD so wills it! - -"'And when the three days are finished, then those men will -awake--General and Prince and King and Private and Officer--and their -strength will be as nothing, their vigor as a reed shaken by the wind, -their wills as shaking vials of water, their threats like sheets -whipped by the wind. So shall it be. Like men dazed in a flame, or -smoke, or men caught half dead from the waters, will it be to them. It -will be to them as the prophet Isaiah said: - -"'"And they shall be brought down and shall speak out of the ground, -and their speech shall be low out of the dust, and their voice shall -be, as of one that hath a familiar spirit, out of the ground, and their -speech shall whisper out of the dust." - -"'But'--it was at this point that Gabrielle rose, and stood like some -Sybil or Prophetess, replenished with a divine ardor--'Gabrielle, you -have been chosen as the instrument of our incarnation. I chose you. -See! It is God's way! Great issues HE brings about through the lowly -and the humble, the contrite and the simple. God chooses you. There -must be the human, living, breathing, earth-born medium. Go to the -Chateau of La Ferté on ---- and use your power. It will be added to. -Let it be at night, the night before the great combat and the whole -world will be advertised of it. That is the intention of God. So does -He sway the feeble minds of men, turning their pride into humiliation, -their certainties into failures, their promises into dreams. GO! - -"'And Gabrielle, perchance it shall happen that then you also will be -numbered with US--_those of the Over-World_.'" - -Here Gabrielle stopped, a sudden flush mounted to her temples, and -after came a deathly pallor, and then she fell upon my neck in an -embrace utterly tearless, when I felt her body sway upon mine with deep -pulsations, while her lips sought my own, and almost inaudibly she -whispered in my ear--"Alfred, Sebastien kissed me as he vanished, and -his lips were like fire, and the power he brought to me rested with me -from his lips. I am ready to go. But you, Alfred, will go with me. It -may be afterwards we shall be no more together." - -Truly upon us unutterable things had fallen. We sat there together, -almost unnoticing the passage of the day, immersed in a wonder that -deepened into sadness as the anticipation of some wild unearthly ending -of the great war steadily became more and more fixed in our minds, and -with it--Ah there was the desperate cruelty and anguish of it--the -possible separation of our lives. We hardly spoke, and only as the noon -hour flooded the room with light and heat, did we arise, and, hand -in hand, almost as if then we approached the tragic sacrifice of our -happiness, went out, and down the stairway to our duties. - -Perhaps dear old Emile Chouteau thinking of our propitiation would have -said: - - _Sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras._ - - * * * * * - -During the long weeks before that awfully auspicious moment came, -Gabrielle and I kept working at our tasks; she at the villages about -us, in the homes of sick returning soldiers, and also at Paris on -errands of every sort, and I in work of distribution, supervision and -occasionally administration. But it was mostly at the hospital of Saint -Jean that I experienced the full measure of an unusual depression--the -customary, and now grown habitual, grievous seriousness of a national -crisis, deepened into a pathos, almost unassuaged with any hope of joy. -Here I saw our soldiers in that delicately conceived and apportioned -religious retreat, itself a poetic dream of gentle loveliness, with -its walls of time-stained stone, its avenues of trees, the ranged -gardens of its sunny domains, with the petunias, the geraniums, the -sages, and the high-browed and over shadowing chestnuts, the outspread -firm outlines of tower and hall, its innumerable vistas, at evenings -breathing a strange and subtle melancholy--_malheur à qui n'a pas senti -ces mélancolies_ (Renan)--and the devoted community of priests and -nurses. Here I saw the sons of my country dying, praying, chanting, -smiling in their ferocious sufferings, slipping away into eternity -with prayers for _La patrie_, or rising from the very border of the -grave with mutilated bodies, and yet yearning for the last chance of -fighting still again. Here I saw the deathless love of home, lingering -in the sick bodies, whose lips moved in a delirium of dreams, that -they were soon to revisit the old orchards, the vineyards, the chimney -places, and their people--_Ah c'était miserable_--and I have seen the -chapel filled with the mourners and the broken-limbed companions of the -dead, lifting the coffin so gently, as if the lifeless figure in it -might feel their friendliness and thank them for it. Yes more too--a -spectacle that might have touched the heart of Heaven--the wounded in -the wards singing, in murmurs, between their gasps of pain, or just -slowly gesturing, as it were, with body and fingers and with their -speaking eyes in unison, _La Marseillaise_. You know how M. ---- has -described it. _Ecoutez._ - - "_Nos blessés chantaient ainsi par la bouche de leur blessures et nous - en écoutant les strophes sublimes, il nous semblait les comprendre - pour la première fois!_" - -Our--Gabrielle's and mine--miraculous mission was never forgotten. We -did not speak of it, but we watched the racing days, and as we watched -the words of the VISION grew visibly true. The Great Effort was to -be made; that we knew. In the face of all prudence, driven onward by -the irresistible purpose of the Almighty, the generals of the armies -announced the dread decision of "_trying it out_"--the English -said--in one colossal combat. It was the edict of fate that rushed -them on to this conclusion. And it was trumpeted to the whole world. -And no one thought it strange. No one wondered. And yet in any finite -human view what unutterable folly! Ah--it was God's way. HE had blinded -the eyes of the wise. HE had perverted the judgment of the mighty. -HE had turned the councils of the Great into childishness. His hand -indeed again rested on the earth, and its peoples, and the vast _END_ -would be--so it became clear to my sister and to me--HIS Revelation -of Himself, blasting clean into the hearts of men this truth, that HE -LIVED. - -So the armies of the Allies and of the Powers gathered together against -each other, along the line of the eastern frontiers of France, as I -have said. There the last gage of war was to be flung down, and the -issue tested. - -But no new command came to us from the spirit-world. It was now within -two weeks of the hour set for the DESCENT, and Gabrielle and I wondered -that we should not hear again of the mysterious matter. Need we doubt? -See how the current of events foretold the END! That last night at -the old home in St. Choiseul I shall never forget. We sat together in -the big library throughout the night expecting some sudden GUIDANCE -from the Unknown. We said very little. The weight of our purpose had -withdrawn us from the companionship of our neighbors, and for weeks -we had lived alone in a reserve of solitude, of wondering suspense, -that also tied our tongues. We had become stupefied with the terror of -this admission to the supernatural, as if we were holding the hands of -the Creator! Did we believe? Gabrielle did, and--I will confess it--I -linked it all with the phantasmagoria of events of the hideous war, as -something possible--just possible. - -That was the end of September. We must be at the Chateau of La -Ferté the following night if punctuality counted in this tremendous -eventuality. And of course it did count. How exactly GOD had given his -commands to Moses and Joshua, to Barak and to Gideon, to Jephthah, to -David, to Solomon, to Elijah! So instinctively we grouped ourselves -with the designs of Providence as indeed commissioned agents of its -ends. - -It was almost morning; the eastern sky reddening with flakes of fire -scattered over it, and the light entering the room from the south wall -of the garden, where the clustering vines hung untouched and forgotten; -when Gabrielle spoke to me. - -"Alfred have you any doubts? The time is short for our preparation. -Tonight we should be at La Ferté." - -"I will go with you Gabrielle. Would you go alone?" - -And my sister answered in the words of Barak to Deborah: - -"'If thou will go with me then I will go; but if thou will not go with -me, then I will not go.'" - -"Gabrielle all issues are with God. I will go with you." - -Later, when the day had fully broken, and the sunlight flooded -everything without and within the house, and, from its singular -clarity, the not usual picture of the Eiffel Tower, far off in -Zeppelin-haunted Paris, was just descried as a hazy skein of lines in -the sky--we were both looking at it--the front door was assailed with a -furious knocking. I ran to it and opening it encountered Privat Deschat -with a paper in his hands, his face convulsed with emotion, his mouth -wide open, and crowded with insulting epithets, that he flung upon me -with such emphasis that, for an instant, I thought I was the occasion -of his rage. But it was not so. It was what he read that had startled -him into this unaccustomed excitement and denunciation. - -"_Voila_," he shouted, waving the sheet he held in my face. "_Voila, -une clique des fous. Les scelerats; les imbecilles abominables; -traitres_; Dogs of Perdition. See, they intend to risk all on a single -cast of the die and then--_C'est assez à faire un homme honnête_--with -his head on his shoulders--_créver avec desespoir_, with madness. -Alfred Lupin, what do you suppose? The Allies and the Boches and their -forces have agreed upon tomorrow as a day of final quittance. There -is to be one huge battle, _un conflit superbe_ and then--_Quoi?_ -Give up--_la FIN. C'est a dire une massacre insupportable_, unheard -of, monstrous, irreparable, and then--_Ah, le Diable pourquoi existe -je?--la renvoi à jour fixe._ Can you believe such a suicide of the -nation, such a shameless cowardice, such insanity, such depravity of -ideas? And they make of it a circus, _une parade macaronique_, and of -the nation _un jouet_. Is it not most damnable? Eh?" - -Stunned by this unexpected outburst I retreated a step, and following -me with the offending paper he continued his onslaught. - -"Have you not heard? The Generals, the Kings, the Princes, the -Diplomats, the Soldiers, have all agreed upon one infernal -exterminating duel, and with that over no matter who wins, they throw -down their arms and make peace. And here--HERE--" he shouted, still -pursuing me backward into the hall-way, while behind me gathered -Hortense, Julie, and even Gabrielle in appalled curiosity--"here they -proclaim it to their peoples, and bid them gather at the carnage, -_Une spectacle magnifique assurement_--the death of the nations. What -poison of insanity, of miserable, hopeless, brutal, depraved idiocy, -possesses our men? Has the whole world become a drivelling fool, _une -bête écervelé_?" - -He was still holding out towards me the paper, and in despair over -his exasperation, I seized it, and rushed with it to the light, while -Privat Deschat rushed with me, and the little circle of auditors closed -about us in amazement. I saw at once the cause of Deschat's disgust. -The sheet he had brought to us was a broadside--_une bordée_--which -evidently was intended for circulation throughout the country, and -had been posted over the walls of the cities, where what I knew, was -frankly announced--the _umpirage_, the _arbitrament_ in one last -conflict of the undecided war. It read. - - PROCLAMATION - - PEACE COMES WITH VICTORY. ONE BATTLE MORE. THEN IT IS ALL OVER. ON - ---- THE BATTLE BEGINS. THAT ENDS THE WAR. LET THE NATIONS GATHER. THE - TOURNAMENT OF CIVILIZATION IS AT HAND. SUCH IS THE DECISION OF THE - RULERS, AFTER THAT INDUSTRY, REST. PRAY FOR US, AND COME AND SEE. - - L'ADMINISTRATION. - -"Yes," mocked Deschat, "_l'es boutiquiers_ are selling seats for it -now in Paris, in Berlin, in London. _Mon Dieu je vais à me mettre au -cercueil._" With that admonishment he vanished from the house. - -I turned to Gabrielle. - -"Gabrielle, it is enough. It is the writing on the wall. GOD COMES. He -has truly turned the heads of the nations. It is again the words of the -prophet Jeremiah: - -"'Yes, the stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed times; and the -turtle and the crane and the swallow, observe the time of their coming; -but my people know not the judgment of the Lord.' - -"We need no further assurance, Gabrielle. It will be as the spirit of -Sebastien Quintado said. LET US GO AT ONCE." - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE END - - -The Chateau of La Ferté stands upon a low hill forty kilometres (about -twenty-five miles) northeast of Briois. It is a wooded hill, because -it has been a neglected one. The old trees of the ancient demesne have -grown up in disorder, and have gathered to themselves a wild brood of -other trees and bushes. The whole place is a wilderness, but threaded -with paths of picnickers--_parties du plaisir_--and it is a place, too, -full of game; here pasture deer, and the fox lurks in its coverts, -and the grouse and the partridge, and on the shielded lake swim wild -ducks. Its great towers are falling to ruin; the stone walls that bound -them together are in decay, but buried in the thicketed vines that -have sprung upon them in profusion like a horde of biting hounds. The -strong trunks of the wistarias, like mighty thighs have crushed in -their partitions, and the old courtyards are damp with rank weeds and -spotted fungus-growths. The northeast tower still lifts up its gray -masses of wall above the encroaching trees, but its feet are buried in -the luxuriant verdure of the plants and trees. A strangely beautiful -spot. Traces of the old gardens remain, and a few still decipherable -paths wander up and down the northern slopes. Some of these lead to -the lake, invaded on all sides by rushes and sedges, thickly wadding -its sides, except at one rim where still a pebbly margin stretches its -white ribbon against the vivid green of descending, creeping mosses. - -A moat was once dug deeply about the fortress-villa, and the range -of the portcullis can be irregularly interpreted in the crumbling -walls, that faced the ditch. It is a wide domain, embracing hundreds -of acres, and the tangled thickets are interrupted by open grassy -plains, while towards the south an orchard partially redeemed by some -neighboring farmers, mixes with the savage glories of the unmolested -wilderness, the pastoral sweetness of cultivation. It is a rare bit -of natural artistry, enriched by feudal history and weirdly darkened -by ancient crime, and now in the country circuits ascribed a half -sinister population of unfavorable natural tenants. Here the owl -secretes his nest and bewitches the night with his melancholy screams, -the mosaic-backed snakes glide within its shadows, or bask in its hot -exposures, the claw legged bats drape its fastnesses in the daytime, -and wheel in twitching gyrations about its grim sentinel towers in the -moonlight. Toads and stealthy rats find in its uninvaded precincts -safe hiding. Like some untamed forest land it invited the flight -of the hated denizens of the countrysides, and freely offered its -thickets, overgrown jungles, and sunless recesses for their concealment -and protection. - -But there were more terrible things said of La Ferté. The displeasure -of Heaven had visited it. The blazing lightning had struck it again and -again. Its ancient oaks had been blasted by the fires of the Almighty. -When storms came from the north or east, their worst fury was spent on -the wearied old walls of La Ferté; when the snow fell it fell deepest -at La Ferté and the winds played there their most demoniacal tricks. -Some wanderers who once had taken refuge in its deserted rooms, had -been killed by the bolts of lightning, and others--a Gypsy band--in -winter had been found huddled together dead in its woods, buried -beneath enormous drifts, when the snowfall outside of the fated spot -and over the general country-land had been light and even. - -Ah yes, the old castle lay under a curse. In its old dungeons men -and women, and children too had been done to death, and there was -the well-known tale of the murdered duke and his beautiful wife and -three fair children stabbed to death with the very dining forks at a -banquet, when words ran high and the wine had turned the heads of the -wicked guests who were the duke's own kindred; such current gossip as -fascinates the contemplation of every deserted ruin. - -In the spring St. Elmo fires burned on its turrets, and were one to -enter its woods at night haunting lights shone from its empty windows, -and, if the wind rose--it soon became a tempest at La Ferté--and on it -rose a chorus of wailing, long sighing sobs, that you could hear as far -as the post road. That was well known everywhere. And then a thunder -bolt, a great iron rock, hurled from Heaven, had crushed in the roof -of an old keep, outside of the moat, where once a pretty girl--so ran -the legend--and boy who were in the way of a terrible baron, way back -in the reign of Charles V, had been strangled, and their bodies sunk -in a well, which sometimes filled even now with blood, and ran out, -painting the ground in red streaks under the hawthorn bushes. You could -see the stone now, though the way to it was through thick-set briars. -No wild flowers ever grew there, though everywhere else at La Ferté -they were plentiful enough, and the marguerites were famous. Hundreds -came there to gather them for birthdays, at weddings, and for funerals. -Yes, yes--but only in daylight was La Ferté visited. All good people -gave it a wide berth at night. The post road passed near it, but those -who chanced to travel on it by night hurried past the gloomy shadows of -La Ferté--darkest too like ink or ebony, when the moon silvered its -craggy walls. - -To Gabrielle and to me, La Ferté was invested with no terrors. We loved -it. From our earliest years of life we had every summer gone to it on -pleasure parties, and later--so absorbing was it to my fancy--I had, -when a very young man, made a complete survey of it, mapped its old -walk-ways, gardens, and outbuildings, reconstructed in drawings, from -ancient prints, its granaries and storerooms, the cellars, vaults, -larders, arsenals, and the upper stories of its dwelling apartments. -So the supernatural summons to repair to La Ferté brought with it, -despite its ghostly origin, no fears. Indeed fear under the spell of -this awful errand could not have been suspected. It all lay prone -before the sublime magnitude of the event which we were to serve, whose -heralds and appanage we were. The excitement, spiritual and mental, -woven with the emancipated feelings of destiny, and also with the -emotional elation over the issue of peace and restoration, lifted us -completely above usual physical states, and half immersed us in that -dreamless sleep which the Hindus call _prajna_, or something like it. -Consciousness was there with us, of course, but a larger consciousness -obliterated our own selves, and we had become mixed in with the -currents of the intentions of the Supreme Spirit. - -However I was all the time intensely practical and I had formed exactly -my plans for our installation at the chateau. Almost immediately after -the storming Privat Deschat had left us, we started. An automobile, -already engaged from the hospital, carried us to Briois, and there, -almost on the instant of our arrival, we took a train for the village -of Peltry, which is not far from the chateau. From the village we made -our way across the fields to the chateau. We were quite alone, but not -knowing what circumstances might arise, and eagerly insistent upon the -demands of nature, I provided us with a plentifully supplied basket of -provisions, which momentarily may strike the reader as an anticlimax -to our exalted states of mind. It was really nothing of the sort. -Physical weakness could only have interfered with our mediation. It was -not satiety or even satisfaction I was thinking of, but just physical -endurance under some unforeseen and incomputable exigency. - -All the way we had been made aware of the vast concentration of -troops, and of the nation, towards the frontiers of the country, where -the confronting armies were to try out the dread decision. Marching -regiments, the vans, the clouds of aeroplanes, and the multitudes of -people traveling in all manner of ways, and mostly afoot, landing from -trains from Paris, from the west, from the south, and converging in -one colossal mass upon the selected battlefield, convinced us that -the utterly suicidal madness was to subserve the purposes of God. The -spectacle was to be grandiose and universal. The testimony to its power -should not be lacking in emphasis. - -Streams of men and women, mostly old men now, and children, swept past -us. The land was inundated with the migrating crowds. These spectators -invaded the fields, waded the little streams, overran the farmyards, -pressing on to that strange goal, the _duel of the nations_. Surely -the poison of an insane prepossession had turned reason and wisdom -and experience and prudence into foolishness. So we thought. Thus the -mysterious messages revealed to us seemed to be visibly corroborated. - -But the hilltop of La Ferté was not sought. The drifting crowds, -pushing stubbornly on, almost without sound of voice, in a dreadful -silence, like creatures driven to their doom, divided there their -compact masses, and it remained like some obstacle in a river's rush -and freshet, and only around it poured the human tides, animated by -some fear perhaps--No, rather directed by the mystical forces of the -intelligences that ruled the hour, and ruling the hour ruled also the -inclinations of the hearts that, in their blind animal herding, obeyed -them. - -We had hurried along with the scattered throngs, veering constantly -towards the untouched wilderness of bushes, swards, jungles, and woods, -around the ancient ruin, until upon its verge we stepped out of the -vast struggle, and moved upward on the slopes towards its towers. There -were wondering comments, and a few for a moment were inclined to follow -our example. But the murmur of disapproval rose like the breaking of -waves upon a beach, half articulate, half inarticulate, but wholly in -remonstrance. Some words were intelligible. They sufficed. - -"_Non, non--pas là. Retournez; c'est un pays maudit. Ne restons là. -C'est une place méchante. Voila._ Back, back; the devil owns it. _Je -vous le dit. Aucun qui reste là se flétrie._" - -We were watched a little while with consternation and astonishment, -and then the bovine muteness returned, and the headlong plunge went on -uninterrupted. We were left alone. The edge of the preserve which we -crossed was a grassy slope, terminated at a little height by a thicket -of hawthorns. Through this latter, along a devious pathway, we made -our way, bending beneath the heavily draped branches. Then came an -open space, and a large ragged chestnut of huge girth was encountered. -Its wide flung branches struck against the very walls of the western -tower, which here, crumbling and falling apart, had crushed the -front wall of the enclosure, and left its inner courtyards exposed, -seen over blackened masonry, and piles of bricks, and rudely cut -limestone blocks. Scrambling over this obstacle we found ourselves at -length in the chateau's courtyard, and in the darkest shadows, almost -impenetrable in daylight. Beyond us rose the better preserved eastern -tower, which it was my intention to ascend. Shy lizards shot hither -and thither along the walls, and the air seemed almost irrespirable -with the odors of decay, from rotting timbers, and the multitudinous -growth of fungi, and ivy, and a red confervae coating the pavement in -the little undried pools. I knew exactly where I was. I led the way -further to a descent of a few steps, that brought us within the rounded -walls of the tower, where a fairly well preserved winding stairway led -upward to its very summit. I had often ascended it to its very summit. -Now I told Gabrielle to wait below, and I would first essay the steps, -and discover their condition. I felt confident of their strength. It -had been spoliation, more than weathering, that had destroyed the -western tower. There had been four towers once, but the two northern -ones had been almost razed to the ground by the frequent plunderings of -their stones for bridges, and stables, and culverts of the surrounding -country. Their stumps and foundations were thickly encumbered with -all kinds of wild growths, amongst which the stunted saplings of apple -trees had inserted themselves, making the enclosure in the late spring -a bower of fragrance with their abundant blossoms. - -I found that the stairs were unchanged; their solidity could not be -questioned. The better preservation of the eastern tower with the still -unbroached and massive roof at its summit, had kept the stairway in -an almost pristine condition of stability, though, here and there, -the inroads of the elements, the disheartened growth of mosses and -pallid fungi upon the thin accumulations of earth in the corners, and -along the rises of the steps, imparted a sense rather than a look -of decay. At the topmost winding of the circular stairs, everywhere -supported by the central newel about which they wound, I discovered, -to my interested surprise, that the lightning had played some of its -mischievous tricks, which were popularly ascribed to the infamous -history of the ancient keep and castle, as marking it for devastation -and vengeance. A splitting of the parapet wall had occurred here, and -the angular line of dislocation had separated the stones of the rather -high wall, and, under the stress of subsequent rains and wind storms, -they had fallen out for a space of two or three feet. The accident was -not inopportune. It permitted a view of the land towards the east, -towards the vast panorama of the assembled armies and the gathering -multitudes, who thus now, under the sway of an over-ruling Providence, -flocked to this utterly amazing exploit. No conceit of theatrical -device could have been more spectacular; no imaginative invention of -the epic poets more sublime. - -I stood a moment at the opening of the wall and looked out over the -fair landscape. The trance-like wonder of that moment I can never -forget. Upon the brink of what tremendous phenomenon did I stand? Was -the visible intervention of the Most High soon to be revealed, and -we--my sister and myself--were we the chosen instrumentalities--trivial -and feeble--for its transcendent beauty? - -The westering sun threw the long shadows of the chateau, far flung -over the trees and bushes, the slopes and even outward upon the -throngs, at my distance hardly seen to move, a generally dark streaming -mass, darkening at the horizon, which it seemed to overrun--the -exodus of a nation! Beyond the farthest elevations northward, and -again southward in the plain, extended--unseen but understood--the -_boyeaux_, the labyrinths, the cave shelters, of Picardy and Champagne -where the soldiers waited. Beyond that ravelled edge of desperation, -of suffering, of confronted death, lay the bordering edges of the -enemy. Beyond that again, another concourse, summoned from the towns, -the villages, and the farm-lands of Germany, instinct with the same -hallucination. And above us all--WHAT? The approaching descent of the -shriven and unshriven hosts of the slain? - -The day, fast closing, ushered in a night warm and clear. I assisted -Gabrielle up the long ascent of stairs; I returned for the baskets -and wraps and two small tent-stool chairs, our entire furnishment for -that ordeal, doubtless, unattended, I divined, with either hunger or -fatigue. Still the provision of these simple comforts seemed wise. -Indeed as the day died away, we ate the bread and drank the wine, in -silence, waiting. Below us came the murmurs, the catches of song, the -wailing melodies of hymns, and over the illimitable concourse spread -with flickering inconstancy, the spangles of lights, with here and -there a spurt of flames from the bonfires of improvised camps. - -Perhaps it was about midnight, or later--we knew nothing of time, the -very breathing of our bodies, the beating of our hearts, hurried and -rapid as they were, were not even felt, or were only noticed in the -moments of self-realization. How could it have been otherwise? About -midnight, I say, we both became conscious of an unwonted agitation in -our minds or souls--who shall say which?--and we started up together, -crouching down at the broken gap of the parapet. Surely the instinct of -premonition was awakened in us. The sky was moonless. The stars shone -distantly, their light softened into spotted glows only. - -"Look," it was Gabrielle speaking, with uplifted hand pointing above us. - -I raised my eyes. - -A light--O so slowly developed--the faintest possible silvery radiance, -emerged somewhere in the centre--or what seemed to us the centre--of -the sky, and grew steadily broader and brighter. At first it was a -curdling spot of light, from whose rapidly moving--we could now discern -its motion--edges, like the margins of a thunder cloud which is torn -or frayed into wisps of sullen vapor, thin wavering flames of a richer -golden light shot softly, now piercing the darkness in arrowy lines, -now withdrawn to descend again in broad blades of nebulous splendor. -And from them an illumination, pale, like the first morning's glow, -spread upon the earth beneath, and the dense distant masses of men, the -springing features of the landscape, slowly developed spectrally. How -marvellous it was. I was transfixed not with wonder so much as with -admiration, an awful admiration--Ah yes a quickening sense of worship -perhaps. Within me stirred those original promptings of a recognition -of the OVER-RULE, somewhere in those depthless heavens above us, where -the stars shine. - -Gabrielle had risen to her feet, and with her hands clasped tightly -across her eyes swayed with the moment's inspiration, with her own -evoked transcendentally strengthened powers. I stood aside and watched, -a human record simply of the immeasurable spectacle. - -The light descended bodily; it almost seemed as a shimmering mist at -first but taking on a skeiny texture, and streaked here and there with -lines of brightness. If it was a vast cloud of the disembodied it was -too far away from us to analyze it into forms or faces, or whatever -the spectral apparitions were. There however incontestably before us, -it grew and distended and softly sank, in an increasing radiance, upon -the earth. This radiance was superbly delicate, and yet intense. It -seemed almost colorless, though I thought, too, bluescent masses passed -over it or through it, like floating shadows on a wall. The fight was -comparable to the strong glow of an electric light, shaded within an -opalescent glass. The whole descent of the cloud was in the nature of -a progression or inundation. It appeared to touch the earth, and then -to roll north and south, while an endless ocean of the same brightness -poured downward from the remote zenith. It was ineffably amazing. - -But quietly, like the rising winds in an approaching storm, motion -developed. And it became quicker and quicker, until I could discern -within the vast, white, shining envelope, currents of light passing -this way and that in unbroken rushes, and then came a sound. I heard -it distinctly and yet doubted my senses. I turned to Gabrielle. She -was not there. Terrified with the sudden thought of some miraculous -transfiguration I called aloud. _My voice was a whisper._ Turning -abruptly to one side I stumbled upon her prostrate body. She lay almost -face downward, on the damp paving, and as I seized her and raised her -up, there could scarcely be perceived any token of life in her. Hastily -chafing her hands, and clasping her to my breast for warmth, I felt the -renewed pulsations, and a moment later she opened her eyes and gazed at -me in a transfixed vacant way that again startled my fears as to some -hideous issues to this night of wonder. - -"Gabrielle," I could see her and the objects everywhere plainly, by -the flooding light that momentarily grew more and more brilliant, -"Gabrielle. What is it? Are you sick?" - -There was no answer; her eyes were closed again, and her hands seemed -stiffened together in the figure of prayer. I placed her on one of the -stools, and without relinquishing my hold of her, opened the basket of -food and wine, took out a flask and pressed it between her lips. She -responded. The wine revived her, and like a dazed person, she stared -about her as if lost. - -"Gabrielle, here I am--Alfred, your brother. Speak, Gabrielle. O! -speak." - -Sentient life was returning, its force was reawakened, and she opened -her arms, and embraced me, and--blessed sound--her words entered my -ears, soft, low, almost gasping. - -"Alfred. See. The Spirits are here. My summons has been heard. Quintado -has kept his word. It is all as he said. Listen, Alfred. There are -voices--a sort of music; singing or--is it sighing? Ah! This ends the -war. And the cries, the shouts, Alfred. What are they?" - -The light had become more and more strong--it rained now upon old La -Ferté, and its solitary tower, and its ruins, the wandering ancient -park with trees and bushes started outward, clothed in the strange -splendor. The glory of it filled the skies, and it beat upon the -motionless crowds revealing their compacted and scattered groups. And -the people? Everywhere was confusion or consternation. A widespread -agitation was expressed in uplifted hands, in bowed heads, in kneeling -bodies. We could see that, indistinctly, on the country-side, beyond -La Ferté. But it was the mammoth voice of that people that Gabrielle -had heard, rising--rising--blotting out the ethereal music, until its -indescribable weirdness, its inarticulate ululations were like some -animal expiration of immeasurable magnitude. It shot a singular terror -into my heart. Was this indeed the End of the Earth? - -"Gabrielle," I whispered, "let us go. We cannot stay here. This light, -this influence--these ghostly crowds. I cannot--you cannot stand it. -_Come--come._" - -I lifted her to her feet, forced her again to drink of the wine -and drank myself. And then we turned to the steps to descend. -Everything was in a bright light, and the light was accompanied now -by gleaming shooting darts or rays, that split it in streaks of -phosphorescent--nothing else quite describes it--cleavages. - -I thought I saw faces--but they were like thoughts only. Gabrielle -clung closely to me, and shielded her eyes from the marvellous picture, -that increased its stupendous power every minute. I took one last look -through the broad gap in the parapet. The clouds of glory were still -descending, sometimes in rolling folds, and the billowy masses or -reservoirs of light that had reached the earth were visibly hastening -onward along the track of that distant endless marshalled host, like -dust-storms of countless sparks. I thought too, different from the -colossal moan of the multitude, I caught the sharp note of distant -cries. Was that the beginning of that "_terrible Paralysis_" Quintado -in his vision to Gabrielle had threatened? I thought so. - -I almost carried Gabrielle down the winding stairs. Her interest -increased, animation awakened, the vitality of her tired nerves was -renewed; she seemed suddenly thrilled with an exorbitant curiosity. -At the foot of the long descent, painfully traversed, as I could not -bring with me my little lantern, though the exterior splendor sent -innumerable dashes of light through chinks and narrow eyelets, that -dimly lit our winding way--at the foot, Gabrielle seemed quickened into -an almost delirious activity. - -"Alfred. Let us go to the trenches. Are they far away? _The soldiers_, -Alfred--Sebastien said they would be as dead men, that they would throw -away their arms and flee, suddenly stricken with the crime of their -murders. And then will come the STUPOR, that will hold them asleep, -motionless, the many millions--and then Alfred--I almost can hear him -now telling me--the three days of the _Presence of the Dead_ over them, -and the terror, the punishment, and then, Alfred--you remember?--their -weakness and remorse--and then Alfred, _Peace_--and then--" her voice -faltered a moment, but only for a moment--"then Alfred, comes--, Ah, -Alfred, do not think me cruel--then perhaps I shall leave you, and -Sebastien will take me to Heaven." - -Her voice became almost inaudible. I struggled with an overwhelming -agony of sorrow, because--never had the thought been altogether -absent--Gabrielle too might leave me, and then Ah God,--then I -would be just a drifting relic, on the ocean of chance, unnoticed, -unloved--ALONE. It seemed too hard, too cruel. Yet even amid the -distracting misery of this anticipation, a curious malignancy of -suspicion--No, not that--a pained wonder surprised me. Did Gabrielle -love Sebastien Quintado? Did she seek him in Heaven? And Dora? What -about her? - -I lifted my eyes above into the magnificence that now enveloped our -earth--this unearthly vapor or emission of spirits--and there above me -in the air I saw the figure of Sebastien. The face above it was grave -and smiling, the lips seemed moving in salutation, although I heard -nothing. A form leaped past me. It was Gabrielle. Her outstretched -arms were raised to the pallid spectre. The tableau lasted for a few -minutes, and then the spirit shape vanished into the effluence above -and around us. Gabrielle returned to my side. - -"Alfred; come. Sebastien says the Spell of Heaven is on the Earth. -He says, '_Go and See._' God's manifestation confounds the purposes -of men. '_Go and See._' Come Alfred, I have new strength, new power. -Nothing now can tire me. COME." - -So silently, hand in hand, we walked through the groves, the hawthorn -trees, the old grass clothed mounds, past mimic lakes reflecting the -supernal fires, as though the moon shone on them, but diversified -with the play of incomputable radiances, past the last long slope of -meadow and out into the horrified, worshipping multitudes, making our -way on, and on, and on, over the five mile walk to the trenches of the -soldiers. My inquisitive thoughts left nothing unessayed, untried, -unseen. And this is what I saw. - - * * * * * - -Beyond La Ferté stretched a diversified country-side, roads and fields, -sloping descents into meadow-like expanses, whose grass and sedges were -interrupted by low wooded islets, taller hillsides crowned by farm -houses, thin strips of forest land, and uneven half hummocky ranges of -elevations, crowding down upon narrow and shallow streams, with broader -sweeps of scarcely undulating land, spreading upward to chalk terraces -on the horizon, where burrowed the hidden chained chambers of the army, -the masked batteries, the mud pasted trenches. - -Everywhere were the people. They were the most numerous on the roads, -where the blockade of carriages, vehicles, automobiles extended for -miles. The fences were lined with spectators and over the farm-lands, -in groups, and families, or sometimes in packed crowds, the populace -was encountered. - -We passed amongst them almost unnoticed. Here was a group of peasant -folk kneeling on the grass, and led in prayer by a parson or a -priest. Here others stood in mute masses, gazing upward aghast, or -thrilled, or motionless, and numbed as in a trance. But there were -exciting contrasts to all this immobility. Men were shouting with -delirium; women singing in strident unison, their harsh voices rising -in vocal yelps of pious song; in places I saw colonies thrown down -upon the ground, men and women and children, rolling over and back -again, against each other, in a queer rhythmic way, like some bed of -mechanical reciprocating cylinders. It was almost ludicrous. Young men -had climbed the trees, and their bodies bored the white radiance that -enveloped the earth, with black patches, like spots of gloom. The roofs -of the farmhouses and those of a few little villages we passed through -were sometimes thickly invested with people, and against the lambent -horizon they made serrated hedges of heads, broken now and again with -ejaculating hands and arms. - -I stood a little while at the back of a dairy--_laiterie_--where a -milkmaid on her knees, working the white rosary in her hands, was -surrounded by a knot of small children. Their prattle was infinitely -pleasing. For an instant it seemed to conciliate the monstrous prodigy -about us with things human and ordinary. - -"_Comme, il est beau!_" cried a small boy with his hands clapping in -delight. "_Je crois que les anges descendent sur la terre; n'est ce -pas?_" and he nudged the oblivious milkmaid who stuck persistently to -her rosary. - -"Ah, well," said a still smaller girl, "I think they are fairies--all -those shining spots--and they come to live with us and help us. -_Voila._" - -"Ah then we shall have anything we wish--toys and good clothes I -guess," muttered a rather larger girl. - -"Yes, Bertha, but you must be very good and not kick Margarite. The -fairies are--are--_tres particulières_. _Ils n'aiment pas les filles -méchantes._" - -"But where--where," asked another boy, pushing his way forward among -the others, "where did the fairies get so many candles? _Pas en Ciel?_" - -I looked up; there was now a startling glory in the spectacle. The -white enveloping banks of ghostly things had become tremulous with -countless flickering spires of light, so slightly different from the -quality of the entire luminousness, that they appeared and disappeared, -with an incessant discontinuity that produced the effect of an interior -commotion most strangely beautiful. - -We passed from the _laiterie_ into an open pasture, where the cows, -motionless and resting, continued to chew their cuds, apathetic and -unmoved, while from point to point, marking the houses on our way, -the dismayed dogs kept up their long prolonged baying, howls, and -half suppressed growls. It was hard to believe that we were still in -quite the usual world. Gabrielle retained her composure, and showed no -symptoms of exhaustion. I feared her sudden collapse under the double -strain of the mere muscular exertion, and that nervous preoccupation -that drove her onward to the trenches. The rising ground to a higher -hill indicated the approaching terminus of our fevered journey. - -"Gabrielle, let us stay here a few minutes. Why kill yourself with this -rapid gait? Besides, the morning comes, and then it will be time--quite -time enough." - -"Yes Alfred, I am quite willing. For a little time past I have noticed -the fading of the light. Quintado said that in the daytime the host -of the dead would be invisible though their influence would stay. -Here--let us sit down and watch." - -The place was propitious, a deserted shelter for cattle with a few -benches in it, and facing the east. - -For a while at least all our thoughts were absorbed in the marvelous -atmospheric--if I might so term it--mutations taking place in the sky -around us or above us. It almost seemed that we had left the earth, and -had become part and participants in some vast celestial panorama; as -if, under the magic of some incalculable influence and REVELATION, we -were entering on the sublimities of Heaven. - -The horizon lights as the sun toiled upward were clearly seen. There -was first against the earth-rim a high wall of grey-blue clouds, their -precipitous heights crowned with parapets, and these last glowing -with gold. Later, and above the slowly dissolving cloud walls there -developed reefs of separated islets, faintly roseate, moored off -from a blue-grey shore, over which rose cloud dunes, themselves also -acknowledging the coming of the day with faintest blushes, and then -below the reefs taking the places of the parapeted walls, a pearly -sky. And _then_, an almost instantaneous splendor of multiplied -iridescences in the Ghost-Cloud before us, either a physical refraction -or some supernatural addition, obliterated the sunrise, and flung -far and wide its intolerable brilliancies. We sank to our knees -in a trance of adoration. How long we remained kneeling I cannot -say. From time to time I raised my eyes; Gabrielle never moved. The -colored scintillations were inscrutably piercing and varied; the whole -celestial radiance was shot through and through with the compounded -glories of thousands and thousands of rainbows. And then it faded, -_faded_, the lights dropping out in broken fashion, now here, now -there, until all was gone, and the uncovered sun lifted its round -orb above the hills, and spread its native light over the earth, -and the familiarity of that same earth itself was all resumed. The -MANIFESTATION had vanished. - -When I looked around me, the country-side there was bare of people. -Perhaps they had fled; perhaps that portion of the land had not been -visited. We had walked now about four and a half miles, and, gazing -ahead, I saw the hills littered with _prostrate figures--the motionless -thousands of soldiers along the lines of the trenches_! We had reached -the PARALYSIS, that now held the armies of a continent in its awful -chancery. And--God be Praised--this was the END. - -Some distance behind the shed where we had taken our rest was a farm -house, and, though not a sign of life distinguished it, it offered -the only visible opportunity for securing nourishment, and of that -both Gabrielle and I felt the need. The walk had been long, and the -excitement, the fierce turmoil and agitation of our thoughts and the -dazed exhaustion of our senses demanded succor. We quickly walked back -to it and entered the open door that led into its small chambers. It -was deserted. I called aloud, but there was no answer, and opening -door after door, mounted the steps to the attic, and studying from -that elevation the neighborhood, I could see no one. We seemed to have -reached a point which was far away from the crowds we had at first -encountered. Had some resistless panic driven them back? OR--had the -Paralysis seized them, and thrown them everywhere to the ground and, -thus inert, they lay in the distances, undiscovered, undiscoverable? -The wonder had been realized by myself over our apparent immunity -from the dread coercion of this omnipresent stupor. How was that to -be explained? Ah--how was anything to be explained? At least--if -explanations must be sought--I thought it was the preserving graces of -Gabrielle that lifted from us the covenanted affliction. - -When I returned to the diminutive kitchen filled with the utensils -of domestic use, with its unmade fire, where had been gathered the -sticks and peat for its sustention, and with the pantries stocked -with the humble provisions of the poor peasantry, I was overcome -with a savage resentment. To what end, conceived of under the -most accommodating suffrages of Faith and Religion, could all this -wretchedness, the starved desolation of a country-side, serve? Nay, -the utter subversion of a nation upon whose bent shoulders now would -weigh the insufferable and unredeemable burden of an incalculable -debt--a nation, too, groaning aloud with the wounds of bereavement, -of sorrows, that a life-time would never heal. Oh! how desolating, -how harsh and unrelenting it seemed--the blackness of a huge despair -overtaxed me. I sank to the table with outspread arms, and burst into -sobs of utter, direful misery. I felt the caress of Gabrielle, I heard -her sweet comforting voice, I felt her tender lips press my cheeks--her -very breath seemed the incense of an offering to God. And would my -SISTER be added to the necessary sacrifices? The thought stung me -into madness. My old revolt and rebellion, that which had momentarily -defied the purposes of the Most High when Blanchette died, arose again, -revengeful, blaspheming, sharply irreconcilable. And then, even then, -an inexpressible mystery blessed me. - -I lost consciousness--consciousness to earth--but I entered the gates -of a dreamland, blessed with prophecy. I was in flight, rapid flight, -and my way surmounted the mountain heights, and yet to my eyes nothing -was hid upon the earth. It was too this same Europe. I swept over -the cities of France, over the sunlit loveliness of its country, -now far off into the bordering areas of Belgium, and again over the -dike-seamed, flat-lands of Holland, and then with a monstrous swing -that clove the air with the mighty speed of thought, I looked down upon -the fair provinces of Germany, of Austria, of Italy--it even seemed -that for an instant I stood upon the endless plains of Russia, and even -surveyed the minarets of Constantinople, and everywhere in all of that -measureless domain there was PEACE. Over the fresh verdure of England -I returned, and ever and again renewed my flight, as if the gracious -beauty of the smiling lands, creased with scouring trains, their rivers -brimful of traffic, prosperous with teaming markets, and gay with merry -life, was too sweet and bountiful a picture not to be rehearsed to -satiety. I saw the flags of all the countries waving in their cities, -but above them all too I thought I saw another flag that waved with -them, and this second flag was everywhere the _same_--it was the Flag -of BROTHERHOOD, and it meant the consolidation of the nations in a -Brotherhood of States. I heard the music of the songs of the people, -ascending from the homes of the whole continent, and the sound of bells -ringing in the churches, and the hum of an incessant industry, and the -murmur, like the unceasing murmur of the ocean, of the sons of men -at their daily tasks, and the instantaneous realization came to me, -that at length Europe had put aside its soldiery, its mighty guns, the -hideous ingenuity of its death factories, the useless edifices of its -Class Mummeries and Families, and all of the venomous pride of Title, -and Europe had turned its beseeching eyes to the future, unlearning -the barbarity of its past, and working and planning and divining the -things that would bring upon the Earth _Peace, Good-Will to Men_. And -then it seemed to me that as I wondered and laughed in the depthless -joy of this realization, that a voice like the Voice of God, filled the -empyrean wherein I sailed, and it said: - -"FOR THIS END CAME I INTO THE WORLD." - - * * * * * - -We threaded our way through the thickly filled ranks of soldiers--we -had passed by the wagons of ammunition, the ambulance corps, the vast -_enceinte_ of kitchen equipments--and everywhere was the stupefaction -of utter apathy, here and there in individuals beginning to assume -consciousness, with the twitching pains of increasing misery, that -we had been told would be both physical and mental, the double -excruciation of pain and remorse. But what a sight! - -The inveterate poignancy of my wonder and my curious freedom from the -omnipresent influence--derived somehow from Gabrielle's immunity--kept -me vigilant and observing. Gabrielle was constantly at my side, but -she seemed less intent upon seeing, as upon ceaselessly going on. We -advanced carefully between files of men, from whose hands guns and -swords had fallen, as their owners succumbed to the incredible stupor. -The relaxed arms had dropped the guns, the nerveless fingers released -the control, the stricken bodies had reeled to the ground. We stepped -over the motionless heaps of men who had sunk together in twisted -groups of overlaid bodies and sprawling limbs--as I had seen the dead -at Landrecies and at Coulommiers--steeped in this etherial opiate. We -came upon battalions of cavalry slowly dissolving in a confusion of -riderless horses. The riders had fallen from their saddles, or lay -forward upon the necks of their horses, as if drugged with sleep. The -horses were moving this way and that, confused, startled, neighing in -their bewilderment, or, with wild eyes, struggling in broken companies -to escape the weird strangeness of being unbidden, missing the familiar -voices, the guiding check. Numbers slowly ambled away, their masters -falling to the ground, pulling the belly-bands of the saddles after -them, while, most miraculously, their imprisoned feet freed themselves -from the stirrups, and the disengaged animals moved continuously away. - -In the trickery of this supernatural stagnation there was no -real panic among the animals, and the horses watching the ground -seemed instinct with intelligence. _I felt DIRECTION over-ruling -circumstance._ Occasionally incongruous predicaments arose, as when -a cavalry man had fallen backward over his horse's broad back, and -his head rolled slowly over the horse's rump with the latter's -oscillation. A few riders were dragged onward with the horses, but -they seemed finally to become disentangled and slumped to the ground. -It was a bizarre disorganization, wherein the rigorous modernity of -detail and preparation, had been hopelessly dispelled under a divine -disintegration. - -Indeed a portentous trance had gripped the millions of men. In its -ensnarement they lay like corpses, hither, thither, rolled into masses, -carpeting the ground in phalanxes, drooping upon each other in mimic -embraces, or leaning in thick palisades of bodies like clustered logs. -It seemed a vast immeasurable inebriety. - -And the shadowy host? Where was it? The daylight illumined the -interminable vistas. The wind blew softly over a spring landscape. The -white flecks of clouds drifted as usual across the feebly bluescent -sky. Nothing on earth was different except this palsied host, before, -behind, around us. The similitudes from legend and romance came to -my mind; the bolstered court in the Sleeping Beauty, the stricken -seneschals in Consuelo, the death masque in Vathek, the rigid warriors -with Frederick Barbarossa in the subterranean halls of earth, waiting -their summons to leap forth in battle, the lifeless bodies in the pit -that Sinbad saw. - -But the invisible PRESENCE that held this world of men stiffened into -immobility. What was it? Where was it? We moved through it, Gabrielle -and I, but felt nothing; nothing more than the faintly heated air of -spring. Would it shine illimitably again at night? Well, we should see. -And the _Enemy_--How was it with them? The thought made us hasten. - -We had walked until noon, and had reached the trenches. There stretched -the pitch-forked angular line, the shelters, the dug-outs, the wire -embarbments, the peering snouts of cannon. Men had crawled out and -lay recumbent in the full light unharmed. We stole furtively into -one subterranean cave. Behind the front space against a wall of half -dripping clay ran backward a narrow room. In its centre a table was -spread with the rude service of dishes, and behind that again a ruder -grotto held a fire-place where a blaze of wood was charring a forgotten -leg of mutton. Around the table slept twenty men, and an officer at its -head groaned uneasily. Boyau after boyau was entered, and always the -arrested work, the drugged sleepers. From point to point, like rabbits -hanging on the lips of their warrens, men were revealed, half exposed, -half hidden. But no murderous fire despatched them. The enemy too -slumbered. We looked that way. The ground over which our eyes searched -eastward and northward, was ploughed with the horrid ruts of shells, -beaten into mud slowly drying in barren cankerous tracts of dust, or -gouged with holes, while mounds rose intermittently, whose washed sides -disclosed the limbs of buried men. Perhaps half a kilometre away on -hillsides, in valleys, through the frayed margins of woods, thrashed -into splinters by the shells, ran a crease, like a smeared titanic -pencil mark, where now we knew the Teuton, the unspeakable Boche, -snored unresistingly and oblivious. - -We essayed the experiment of seeing if it was indeed so. In the dying -day we crossed that silent tract, and safely, in a zone which for -months had trembled beneath the explosions of shells, where sudden -sorties had filled it with the clash of arms, or sent along its pale -yellow and black surfaces the groans, the prayers, the gasps of dying -soldiers. Now it was a graveyard only, and as silent as the place of -tombs. We entered the lines of the enemy--and there--stark in the -embrace of the Paralysis the mighty German, officer and men, yes, -generals and--at the very point of our first contact with them--a -prince too, rolled ignominiously together, in the suffocation of this -asphyxia. It was a humiliating discomfiture. It confounded appreciation -for distinction. They were thrown down along the banks in droves, and -backward in the avenues of approach the legions upon legions slept. -It made me think of the rafts of logs upon Texan rivers caught in -inextricable confusion, tilted, submerged, locked, and tumbling over -each other in heaving booms, as the tides jammed them together in -thicker and denser snags. - -Strangely unbelievable it seemed, those stunned masses of men! The -setting sun sent its rays upon them and, through an exact orientation -in spots of the serried helmets, they were returned in a blaze of -reflected light. We wandered on, along the edges of this sea of faces, -dreading to penetrate their ranks. There was an unearthly horribleness -in it all, as if an Universal Death had expelled Life from the earth, -and in the continental solitude _we_ alone lived. I shuddered, with a -sickness of despair at my heart, wondering if indeed we should see the -dawn of the Last Judgment. - -And now a marvelous thing happened. Gabrielle and I had retreated -from the German line, slowly, with bowed heads hurrying towards our -countrymen, when, as the day darkened, the air above us, with an -infinity of sparklings, like a scattered ignition in combustibles, -resumed slowly its supernatural brilliancy. The great ghost bank -enveloped us. We quailed beneath it. We clung together, thrilled and -speechless, in the immersing splendors of the heavenly light; the -radiance of unnumbered souls. We could not see within it as we had seen -when without its limits. It dazzled our eyes, and for the first time I -felt a singular numbness creeping upward in my limbs, an insuperable -heaviness in my head, and dull reiterating beats in my ears. Gabrielle -seemed almost lifeless. - -The ghost mass was vital with movement, there was indeed a low -decrepitation in the spaces above us, and an incessant arrowy flight -of forms, or veils of forms, where, too, faces shone, half traceable -in features, half blurred, as in a sheen that erased them, as soon as -seen. And those faces! They were not the presentiments of color and -shade and shadow, perhaps, as a pictorial fact. No, not that--they were -evocative lights, that created in my mind's eye, an image as it were, -of a living face, and they were most solemn, most sad; in them dwelt an -irretrievable impress of desolation. A wave of gloom overwhelmed me. -The ground beneath me seemed sinking, I caught Gabrielle to my breast, -and, as if in an engulfing swarm of myriads and myriads of stars, I -fell to the ground. - - * * * * * - -The day had again risen, and our neighborhoods still showed the -recumbent acres of motionless figures--we had moved on far to the north -and westward--the huge aggregations had here drawn together and the -trench lines of the hostile armies were scarcely three hundred metres -apart. In the French and in the German battalions that indescribable -unrest of FEAR that Quintado had predicted was now easily detected. -This opened up a more singular and a deeply interesting panorama. -By ones and twos, by hundreds and by thousands, slowly, slowly, the -immense leaven of repentance of the unsearchable agony of a mingled -moral and physical pain, was lifting them from the first stupor, -and we could see the figures struggling to their feet, we could see -their dazed, horrified, and distorted features, their exchanges of -questioning glances, almost as if in their friends, they saw their -foes. Nothing more utterly diableresque could be imagined. - -Over ourselves had now been developed a great change of feeling. It was -the second day of the miraculous intervention, and we had become imbued -with the meaning of the miracle. It meant the End of the War, and it -meant too a startling Enlightenment. The nations should put an end to -their insane rivalries. The era of a divine economy and brotherhood -was about to dawn upon the puerile egotism of the world. A new insight -deep and revolutionary would adapt the coming centuries to new ends. -So an exultation born of this divination urged us to watch and record -the accuracy of the prediction. We became neutralized in sympathy by -reason of an exorbitant curiosity, and from camp to camp, turning now -to the enemy and now to the friend, we pursued our way, that monstrous -and wonderful day. The dramatic intensity of it--albeit not a word was -spoken in those marshalled millions--surpasses relation. At one moment -we watched a group of Germans starting to their feet with consternation -in their faces, their arms waving in protest, their features wearing -a hundred expressions, terror, maddened wonder, abject subjection, -grimness, a mixed commotion of tempers that rolled their eyes, and -jerked their lips, and contorted their limbs. And then these initial -emotions succumbed to the overpowering sense of torment, and on that -followed their convulsive efforts to rise and flee. And their flight -was impossible; their feet stuck to the earth, where they stood, and -their most violent efforts tumbled them headlong to the ground, and -thus quivering into quietness, like the palpitations of a dying animal, -they lay motionless. - -At another moment we gazed upon the French, behind entanglements -of wire, with fierce-looking and harsh iron-toothed fences, near a -millsite where the shattering shells had ploughed their desolating way -through solid masonry, while beneath it the tortuous crawling boyaux -journeyed on for miles. Here was a company of the _chasseurs-a-pieds_, -the bravest of the Frenchmen whose dauntless courage and resolution in -the face of death, like some fatalistic spell, had made them motionless -under fire, and furious, with a whirlwind of roused premonitions of -success, in their lightning charges. I knew of them well. These stem -gallants of the battle field, were crowding the apertures of their -underground burrows, and many had pulled themselves into the remnants -of grass and clover, even sprinkled, as with dashes of blood, with -carmine blossoms, at the lips of their retreats. Their faces expressed, -with a wide difference of interior consciousness, the same amazement -that had clouded the German faces, but here, in the Frenchmen, the -amazement participated with a half revealed penitence, the stricken -sense of sorrow, and of an awakening realization of an oncoming -transformation. Intelligence beautified its misery with the colors -of a mild, yes, an expostulating contrition. I watched them with an -understanding sympathy. The dismay, the terror even, was all there, -and that distinguishable physical suffering that was the prologue -to their mutual surrender to the mission of Peace that the Spirits -brought. But what else was there? Was that invisible multitude of the -dead individualized to each and every man of the vast armies? Did these -men, thus quenched in the waters of a mental and bodily affliction, -hear unspoken words, see the faces of their lost comrades, and did -they feel the piercing ardor of their contact with the revealing dead? -Who shall say? As with the Germans they too had essayed Flight, and -their will was helpless in the strangling grip of the vast prostration. -_There_ stayed the tremendous equipment of the nation, helpless as a -nursery of children. - -I spoke to these men, bending over them with Gabrielle, but there was -no recognition. They stared at me as if eyeless, or deprived of vision. -If I shouted in their ears, there was no response. If I tugged at their -limbs they acted as inert figures of clay. And yet there was expression -in their faces. What could it mean? Was all their attention focussed -upon an interior illumination while their outward senses remained -calloused in some impossible apathy? - -And then we approached the lines of the stalwart English fighters. -At one point spread a cantonment of infantry, rayed with bands of -artillery, and flanked by the surcharged battalions of horsemen. The -field view was picturesque. It was east of Landrecies where early in -the war the English had met the Germans in withering combat. It was a -shallow sweeping basin-like valley, between two wooded hills, where -the thick set trees, shielded by some whim of accident, yet preserved -their branches and uncrippled growth, and wore the blazonry of -spring. A narrow stream crossed by a hump-backed bridge traversed the -foreground, and beyond the stream eastward rolled a meadowland. Beyond -that somewhere lay the slumbering Germans. But their puissant foes were -slumbering too. The valley stretch was filled, like an overflowing -bowl, with the English troops, and in hedges, in human sheaves, in -rows, as in wind-swept, rain-beaten fields of high grass, the soldiers -tossed their pain-racked bodies. We had become accustomed to the -grotesque predicament and entered the camps, where we were tempted by -the rudeness or wonder of the spectacle, with a stolid confidence. Our -own strength too seemed inexhaustible. We were immune from the wide -gathering Paralysis. Indeed a sort of exultation now surged within us -as we began to see that Quintado's prophecy approached its certain -conclusion, the END of the WAR. It almost filled us with gayety. We -could have shouted a _Te Deum_. - -I pointed out to Gabrielle a low farm house upon the northern -hillside, and we made our way there among the masses of men, actually -stepping upon them, as though they clothed the ground with a human -corduroy. We opened the swinging door and walked into a room fitted -out as a headquarters. Its floor was dotted with the recumbent figures -of officers. Those mighty men plotting their strategies had been -overcome by a strategy more sublime, and overthrown, with the benumbing -exhalations of the heavenly armies, sprawled upon the tables, over the -chairs, and the General curled ludicrously upon the floor. I could have -laughed at the humiliation of the scene, except that for an instant I -doubted my senses. It had all the inane inconsequence of a dream. - -Behind the front room of the little house was a messroom, and there -the same talismanic somnolence had pitched its occupants on floor and -table. I gathered some untouched food, and Gabrielle and I retreated. -As we emerged and our eyes surveyed the prodigious _debacle_, there -rose from the disordered companies a titanic sigh--like the possible -suspiration of an agonized monster--and visibly those thousands, -weltering together in panic, rose to their feet, and with uplifted -arms, their fingers clutching convulsively at nothing, struggled -mightily to move. It was as Quintado had spoken: - - "_There will be no Flight; the pain will manacle their feet, will - stifle their voices, will wither their wills--one monstrous Stupor - will overcome them, and for three days, like the men overcome with - sleep that watched the Apostle Saint Peter in the prison the armies of - the Nations will sleep--Ay, and sleep in PAIN._" - - * * * * * - -We were in the environs of Arras, and it was the very evening of the -third day. Our pilgrimage had passed along the zigzagging frontiers -of the marshalled armies, and everywhere it had been the same--the -coma, the recurrent efforts at escape, the nerveless surrender to -imprisonment. And what was happening beyond those frontiers of the -armies we knew nothing of. In the civilian populations of France and of -Germany, and beyond them in the widened circles of national conflict, -in England, in Russia, in Belgium, in Turkey, and the Balkans was -this tremendous visitation recognized? Was the strange metempsychosis -effecting there too its intangible reconciliations? Between the double -cordon of the armies, moving along the broad and narrow corridor -that separated their lines, we were excluded from the world. Around -us lay the sleepers, shuddering in unutterable nightmares, and in -our diversified roadway there was nothing but the ruins of villages, -the shattered walls, the holed ground, the catacombs of trenches, -deflowered woods, the sinuous storm-marked track of war's desolation. -We, Gabrielle and I, alone lived in this camerated solitude. But it was -the third day and then--what? Ah, what indeed? - -We had made great strides toward the north, and our rapid march had -been hastened by the use of the horses of the troopers. I was not -unfamiliar--from my experiences in Texas--with the management of -horses and in this living cenotaph wherein we moved the animals alone -seemed living. Everywhere they were found strayed and masterless, -and seemingly confused, foraging as best they might upon the scanty -herbage, in the ruined fields, and probably escaping beyond the army -confines into the surrounding country. I found two most serviceable -mares, and, as Gabrielle was a good _equestrienne_, our journey was -more rapid, while it too grew more and more fabulous, gathering to -itself like a figment of fiction, the unreal, the incredible and in it -rested the _denouement_ of a great mystery. All through the night, the -dazzling luminousness dwelt upon the earth, all the day it was unseen, -though potent, and now the termination of its mission drew near. What -then? - -Near Vitry between Arras and Douay is a raised mound, a long softly -swelling protuberance in the undulating landscape, uncrowned by any -structure. The village lies somewhere west of it, and it commands, -almost uninterruptedly, the view running north and south through the -avenue of a slightly winding valley. You can see the village lights -from its summit, and you can hear the church bells there too, when the -wind is west. It was on this modest elevation that we pitched our camp, -when the ghost fog "_lifted_." Almost, as if at the finale of a grand -play, Gabrielle and I waited for that last night. The day died slowly -and it grew colder. Thin clouds thickened into denser volumes and the -sky became overcast. Starlets of snow dropped through the air. A timely -shelter was provided for us in the barracks of an old sheepfold, and -the thoughtful provision of some blankets, taken by me from one of -the camps, kept us warm, and so we watched the fading day. Again, as -always, that outpoured ocean of light, less shimmering than at first, -less moving, less inconstant with variation, as if in the very thought -of its countless denizens the premonition of retreat made a thoughtful -stillness. We did not tremble as at first, at its envelopment, rather -it seemed a benison of blessed promises. It lay over the armies, it -penetrated them, soaking them with the flood of its spiritual waves, an -effluence indescribably, insufferably desolating. To us it was simply -an unnatural splendor. - -As the night came on Gabrielle became _distrait_ and restless. I feared -again some nervous breakdown. There was a deeper fear. The fear of -spoliation, her robbery from me by the mystic invaders, the evocation -of her very soul into that retiring vortex of spiritual life. She -should not go. I pressed her closely to me. I kissed her lips, and -muttered, as if in desperation that she should promise me, not to -follow that elusive host. My terror rose because she did not answer. It -almost seemed that she did not hear me. What other voices stole, were -stealing, away her allegiance? - -At midnight the glory of the light was supreme. It became a homogeneous -radiance, like the solid glow of the melted metals in the furnaces. An -hour later great billows coursed through it, and the wavering crests -smote each other, and when this collision occurred the light darkened -with broad paths of extinction; an instant after the glooms vanished -in the recurrent glory. It was then that I saw currents in flashing -streams, push upward, and then more, and more, and more, as if, sucked -up into some opening receptacle, the conflux had begun to separate -itself from the earth. Its swift motion begot a sound like the trilling -of innumerable violins, a keen and yet delicate staccato of quick -notes, and suddenly looking over towards the horizon, I realized that -indeed the whole composition, complex, and solution was sinking upward -into the zenith. And Gabrielle? - -I caught her in my arms more closely, and in the sepulchral light saw -her face as if filmed already with the pallor of death. A smile gleamed -there too, and a voice spoke in my ears. I looked above me. Again -that haunting form and face of Sebastien Quintado, and with it--O my -God--the entwined wraith of my sister. The dead body was in my arms, -the _creature_ was fleeing beyond my hold. I sprang to my feet, and yet -clinging to the dead figure of Gabrielle, lying on my breast, I raised -an imploring hand, and cried out in the oncoming darkness--fit symbol -of my despair: - -"Gabrielle, is this your love? You know that Life is now my prison. -Return! Return!" - -If human effort could have torn my own soul from my body, then, there, -I would have wrecked my substance, and flown with her in the cosmic -tide of the disembodied. But human effort waits only on the decrees of -Fate. It was not to be. I still saw with enthralled eyes the rising -figures of Quintado and of Gabrielle. The irretrievable misery of it -half maddened me, and again I cried out, with might and main rending -the silences around me with the fierce invocation: "God! God! Give me -back my sister!" - -And then, benumbed with wonder, I saw the shades part, and slowly -descending upon me, the figure of Gabrielle, like some floating dream -of shape, drew near. It stopped above my head, and the face bent -forward, and the lips--those sweet lips of truth and innocence--opened, -and to me came the REVELATION. - -"Alfred! Alfred! There can be no separation between loving hearts. I -shall always be with you. But it is appointed that there are times and -seasons. I am called, you remain. Life and Death have no meaning to the -immortal soul. It is in both the same. The vapor that melts in the air -is still there; a moment's colder breath might bring it back again. -Perhaps I shall return, perhaps not, perhaps you may come to me, but -through the eternal series of designs that God weaves with Life and -Death an immortal purpose runs. It is the Salvation of Mankind. Watch -how even now it shall be upon the earth. These spirits, rent from all -they loved, in this ministration of their return, have sanctified the -hearts of men to a new consecration of endless PEACE upon the earth. -The Death of thousands brings with it the irreversible decree of the -Life of Reconciliation." - -The voice was heard no more. With the rapture of my love I watched -the last ghostly remnant of that beloved being fade upward, into the -swiftly racing tides, forever out of my sight. On me the cruel burden -of taking up life alone had been insupportably laid. I think that it -was then that I ran forward and gazed around the hillside, looking -towards Vitry, and searched the sky. There above me fled the last -meteoric trails, like phosphorescent skeins. I could see the eclipsed -stars reappear through them. It was--so I recall it--as if a cupola of -shining walls opened in the very centre of the Firmament, and, rushing -through it, a tiny spark. Was that the fleeting soul of Gabrielle? -Strained beyond endurance, agonized by the vehement protest of my -despairing heart, the hope of even then rejoining her roused me to a -sudden murderous resolve. I had seen a shepherd's knife left in the -sheepcote. That should cut the loosening knot of Life. I found it, and -then--there arose somewhere from illimitable distances, and from the -neighborhoods about me, an unearthly muffled groan, like a cry buried -in the ground, and heard in stifled shouts. It froze the blood, for -it half seemed as if the corpses of the slain everywhere about, were -speaking from their graves, the raucous outcry of mutilated bodies. A -moment later I forgot my suicidal intent. The sentence from Isaiah that -Quintado had spoken to Gabrielle, rang in my ears; rang like a trumpet. - - "_And they shall be brought down, and shall speak out of the ground, - and their speech shall be low out of the dust, and their voice shall - be, as of one that hath a familiar spirit, out of the ground, and - their speech shall whisper out of the dust._" - -_The great groan was the utterance of the embattled millions, coming to -consciousness._ - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE CONCLUSION - - -The Great War is over. There is peace in Europe. It is now five years -since the armies of the nations succumbed in terror to the incursions -of the Spirits. And there is peace in St. Choiseul. Our old home is -unchanged except that some familiar faces and some familiar voices are -not seen or heard within its walls now--not all. Privat Deschat lives -and Père Grandin and Père Antoine, and Dora is here, and our little -housekeeper Julie. But the _Capitaine_ is dead, and old Hortense, -and--Ah that you know--Gabrielle is gone. - -Tonight the wide country-side is wonderful with its snow-blanket -and, with the moon lighting it up, shadows lie on the smooth white -banks like pencilled drawings, flat and black. I have regained -composure--perhaps happiness. At any rate St. Choiseul retains all of -its loveliness, and in the nursery of its beauty why should not the -heart grow calm. Visitors come often to see our house, and to see me. -Privat Deschat says I should lecture about the Visitation. That I would -make a king's ransom. - -But that I could not do. It would be just pure profanation. I do not -like to have the visitors. I talk to them in general phrases. Some -understand my reticence, and some are vexed. _Mais pourquoi?_ How can -I go over and over again that miracle I have seen--the great miracle -of the war? _See_, I have written this little book, so that I may no -longer endure this intrusion, and now I have only to ask "Have you read -my book?" - -Sometimes it is an Englishman who remonstrates, with: - -"But my dear sir; it is the living voice I want, the voice of the man -who witnessed the Descent of the Dead. And then there are impressions -that no book fairly gives--your own exact feeling you know--that is -what I am after. Don't you see? It was a very remarkable circumstance." - -Sometimes it is an American: - -"Well! Well! That gets ahead of anything I ever knew. Weren't you -shaken up a bit? Strikes me that my life would have been scared out of -my body. Now let us have the whole thing." - -These pertinacities and irrelevant curiosities I could not endure, -and Dora urged me to write the book, and so at last it is written, -and the world may now know the very truth of the matter--the truth as -well as I can give it, for even now I sometimes feel as if I had been -the toy of an illusion. And yet see the proofs. Is there not peace? -Did not Gabrielle leave me? Is it not well known that the very day -after the visions disappeared, the stir in the camps began? Is it not -a common attested fact that the droves of soldiers broke out from all -command--indeed that there was no command, the officers with the men -being seized with one irresistible impulse--and streamed in disordered -legions, over the country, seeking, this way and that, their homes, -and hurting no one; all reduced to a childlike weariness of limb and -spirit? And have not the lengthy histories recorded the voluntary -abandonment of the war by the soldiers and their officers, despite -what the bigger men and the so-called rulers wished? And was there not -wholesale rejoicing everywhere, and were not the churches crowded to -the doors, and did not the flocking multitudes improvise services in -the fields, and on the roadways? And then came the signed manifestoes -of the troops, that nothing in heaven, or on the earth, would drive -them back to the trenches--that it was God's will that the carnage and -the wretchedness of the whole business--_l'affaire entière_--should be -put an end to? - -And how was it with the governments? - -They "surrendered" as the Americans say. They put their wise heads -together and did for the first time what the people said they -should do. And--again the good American slang--"_there was no back -talk_." They did it. And how is it now? Where are the huge military -establishments--where the drill, drill, drill, of uniformed and -gun-carrying men, where the war bureaus and the generals, where that -"power of the sword" that the Teuton blindly worshipped, where the -Gospel of Power? Blotted out, and in its place the sanctification of -Peace. The vision I had on that battlefield, when Gabrielle and I -walked in the midst of the unshriven dead has been realized. _The flags -of the nations wave still, but with them waves the flag of their common -Brotherhood._ - -Well, I am no great writer. I must not attempt eloquence. Let the -historians and the essayists do that. What I think I saw, I _must_ have -seen, for what I see about me, everyone else sees, and this latter -thing is the child of the former thing. - -Reader are you content? The wonderfulness of the repatriation of the -soldiers, as they swept from the battlefields and got back to the -natural tasks of life has been written about, in hundreds of letters -and books. I have given you the entire history of the strange event, -that brought all that about. Again I ask: "Are you content?" - -In years I am yet young, but I am old in spirit. The sharp experiences -I have passed through; the transcendent Miracle I have been a part of, -have delivered me from the trivial considerations of life. But too I -have my part in life, and the darling prettiness of St. Choiseul, the -noble friendship of Père Grandin, and the holy consolations of Père -Antoine, the honest service of Julie, are not unconsidered. And--_there -is Dora_. - -_Sincèrement. 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P. Gratacap</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<table style='min-width:0; padding:0; margin-left:0; border-collapse:collapse'> - <tr><td style='padding:0'>Title:</td><td style='padding:0'>The End: How the Great War Was Stopped</td></tr> - <tr><td style='padding:0'></td><td style='padding:0'>A Novelistic Vagary</td></tr> -</table> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: L. P. Gratacap</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 28, 2021 [eBook #65463]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the Hathi Trust Digital Library.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE END: HOW THE GREAT WAR WAS STOPPED ***</div> - - - - - - - - - - - -<p class="ph1">THE END</p> - -<p class="ph2">How the Great War was Stopped<br /> -A Novelistic Vagary</p> - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 5em;">By</p> -<p class="ph3">L.P. GRATACAP</p> - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 5em;">NEW YORK<br /> -THOMAS BENTON</p> -<p class="ph6">1917</p> - - - - - - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 10em;">Copyright by</p> -<p class="ph4">L.P. GRATACAP</p> -<p class="ph6">1917</p> - - -<p class="ph6" style="margin-top: 5em;">Printed by</p> -<p class="ph5">THE EDDY PRESS CORPORATION</p> -<p class="ph6">Cumberland, Maryland</p> - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CONTENTS</p> - - - - - - -<table summary="toc" width="65%"> -<tr><td align="right"><small>Chapter</small></td> <td></td> <td align="right"><small>Page</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>I.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><i>Saint Choiseul</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>II.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><i>Gabrielle</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>III.</i></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><i> My Return</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>IV.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><i>Gabrielle's Seance</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>V.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><i>The War</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>VI.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><i>The Invasion</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>VII.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><i>The Repulse</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>VIII.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><i>Gabrielle's Visitation</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>IX.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><i>God's Hand</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>X.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><i>The End</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td align="right"><i>XI.</i></td> <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><i>Conclusion</i></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></p> - -<p class="center">SAINT CHOISEUL</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">It</span> is a pretty village, Saint Choiseul, perched on a hillside whose -slopes, undeviatingly smooth and moderate, subside into a flowing -land of streams and fields and white roadways. Its narrow streets are -decorous with straight lines of prim poplars that have a military -stiffness, and while the wind stirs their hedged leaves into audible -protest—the flutter of a restrained salutation or a salute simply—it -seems hardly able to extort from their braced branches the tribute of -an obeisance.</p> - -<p>The houses are generally simple things of two and sometimes only -one story, built of limestone blocks that have weathered into an -undecipherable composition of brown blotches, staring white strips, -mossy crevices, little pits of black, and crannies of nutritious -decomposition, where tiny grass blades have sprouted. Under favorable -skies—and they are almost always favorable at St. Choiseul—their -uneven walls become fascinating studies of minor-color harmonies, and -rising as they do amid beds of flowers, or just grazed grass, from -which they seemed in the broad sunshine to gather subtle tints of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> -gayety, by some evanescent reflexion, they become fascinatingly pretty, -and commodious, so to say, to an artist's fancy.</p> - -<p>The clustered chimneys in some larger villa formed occasional and -well-spaced visual incidents that broke the monotony of the low -cottages and added a keenly valued distinction to our pleasant hamlet. -It was delightful. You felt its persuasive loveliness the moment you -came up the road from far-away Paris—Ah! not so far away that we could -not see the Eiffel Tower on fair days, and on all days, or rather -nights, note the dull flare of its lights in the sky. The road you came -by crossed a stone bridge that threw its moss-covered span over a clear -deep brook, running all the way from Briois, with pollarded willows on -rushy banks, and drooping wistarias wildly clinging to white birches -in the meadow lands of rich farmers, where the brook, loitering, made -pools in which the cattle stood for hours in cream and russet dabs over -the half glittering rippled water. <i>Mon Dieu! Comme il était beau!</i></p> - -<p>Our house was the second in the village on the right hand side of the -road, as you came from Paris, just next to Privat Deschat, an old -carpet-weaver whose back-yard was as many colored as a flower garden -with bright rugs, green, and yellow, and blue, and red, and brown, hung -out on lines that webbed the air like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> spider's nest, in the spring. -And a very pleasant, inviting house ours was with its staid look of -reserved happiness, I might say. There it was with its deep-silled -windows, filled with geraniums and heart's ease, its wide black door, -and big brass knocker, that was a dragon's tongue lolling out of a -dragon's scaly jaw, its long slanting shingled roof, with two dormer -windows, and its pastiche red bricks peeping in ruddy streaks through -the dense ampelopsis that climbed up to the eaves, and then lurked in -the dark, to make its way into the house, and lingering there, became -pale and white.</p> - -<p>There was no veranda or piazza, but just a covered porch with four -wooden pillars and two bench seats, where sister Gabrielle and I -sat long hours in the evenings in summer time, when we were afraid -sometimes to enter the house because—Ah, but I must not tell that now, -for just that fear and what it led to, and how it helped us to end the -WAR, is the sole reason of my telling this story at all. No, no, that -is a long way towards the end, and here I've hardly begun.</p> - -<p>Well, as pleasing and welcoming as the house seemed on the outside, -it was even more lovely within. I don't wonder the spirits—Ah, <i>bête -encore</i>—Yes, most lovely. You see there was a wide hall in soft yellow -and china-blue tile, with the Privat Deschat's rag-carpet in short -strips<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> over it, and a big Holland clock against the wall, and prints -in black and white framed in mahogany, and an old narrow carved table -with tall porcelain candle-sticks on it, from Dresden, and then some -straw-bottomed chairs in gilded frames, and the garden of blooms, seen -through the door on the other side, which opened on a walk covered with -a vine-trellis, and bordered by smart gillyflowers, and hollyhocks, and -sunflowers, and cushions of pansies.</p> - -<p>Then there was a good big square room on the right of the hall full -of books, and friendly chairs, and pictures, with a big desk-table in -the centre, where rose toweringly a superb old bronze French lamp, -that even then we burned with whale oil. You wound it up, and the -oil was pumped on the wicks and—the light was soft and charming and -companionable. The windows were high and low; they reached up to the -ceiling, and they left spaces for window seats at the floor, and white -tapestry curtains shaded them, and then at night—we did it in the -winter mostly—there could be drawn over them soft, thick folds of -green baize, and we seemed softly entombed in a delicious seclusion—so -delicate, so sure. My sister loved the long evenings that way, of -winter, and if it stormed and the snow stung the windows with sharp -taps, she would laugh almost, with the happiness of security.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<p>And there was a big fire-place on the west side of the room—you see -this library was on the west side of the house too—but it was the -whole width of the house also, and the southern outlook swept over -the low land and gazed straight to Paris. That chimney corner was -delightful, and the wisps of light from the soft coal lit up the mantel -and played grotesquely over the row of Peruvian Inca figures and -face-jars that filled it—I brought them from America—so that they -seemed to squint and grin, or just look glum and melancholy. Gabrielle -said they came to life in the half dark, and she made them talk to -me—for she interpreted them in her odd way—the old Inca warriors and -the medicine men and the priests, and the little beggar with a stump -for a leg, and the squinting big-toothed demon in red and black.</p> - -<p>All that in the winter, but in summer and early fall, with the windows -all open, the cooling night air came in, and brought with it odors of -the ground and perfumes—O! so delicate and ravishing—of the flowers; -St. Choiseul loved flowers; there was not a home without them—and -so mixed with these, as if sound and smell had run together in a -composite, half of each, the murmur of insects, the endless roundelay -of the peeping tree toads, a twittering of birds, and the shivering of -leaves in the trees. How we loved it!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> - -<p>I am rambling dully, but you see, kind friend, such strange weird -things happened in that house afterwards, and such sorrow came to me -after all the blessed joy of years, now lost, forever lost, that I -cannot stop my thought picturing everything about it, as if I would -leap back into the arms of other days, and let them caress and soothe -me and banish my grief.</p> - -<p>On the east side of the hall-way was our dining room, a simple room -with just straw-bottomed chairs, an immense oak side-board, royally set -out with glass and blue plates, and on the walls quaint expressionless -portraits of our people, including mother and father, a fat uncle with -a pipe, and half closed eye, and a great grandfather in the regimentals -of the Revolution—very brave looking and handsome—and some very -staring aunts, and great aunts in starched finery, that made them look -like owls.</p> - -<p>Back of the pantry was the kitchen, with old Hortense, as the high -priestess and oracle—our own dear Hortense, with such a kind heart, -and a ready ear, and a generous hand—Ah! how we children loved her, -and how she loved us, and how she packed our napkins for school, or our -baskets for picnics—as the Americans say. She used to shake her wise -old head slyly at us when we looked in at the kitchen door, with that -little hungry grin on our faces:</p> - -<p>"<i>Certainement</i>, you are veery hungree. Oh I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> know—it is a great pity -and there is nothing, <i>Vraiment</i>—nothing—but See! I do so," and her -long fingers snapped, and she waved them in an appeal to space, and -then she cautiously raised a big bowl and <i>Voila!</i> a nest of crisp, -aromatic, yellow buns, or cookies, or <i>gateaux aux raisins</i>, so good, -so inexpressibly good!</p> - -<p>And upstairs were the pleasant bed-rooms, so inviting to repose in -their demure neatness, with high posters and pavilions, and their broad -bottomed rockers, and their rainbow wallpapers, and rag carpet strips, -over the bronzed, aged, and russety black wooden floors.</p> - -<p>My own room was over the library; it looked north and west, and I would -hang out of its window for half an hour at a time, watching the red sun -quench itself behind the golden and flaming horizon, whose secrets I -yearned to know, whose untrodden wonders I dreamed to penetrate. Those -wistful hours awoke the unconfessed but sleepless passion of my heart -to sail out over the Atlantic, a passion too of unrest, linked in my -disposition with ecstacies and imaginations.</p> - -<p>Sister Gabrielle was in the next room to mine, and in her sweet, -tasteful, fresh and white bed-room, rose the chimney from the library -fire-place below—so that she had her own chimney corner too, in the -second story of the house and THERE—Well, wait, that comes later.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> - -<p>Our parents were nervously alert in nature, intelligent and -conscientious. In them a strain of Huguenot puritanism was combined -with an intellectual appetite that seemed to create in each a -physical activity that made them restless in manner, and weak in -health. They watched my sister and myself too suspiciously, and their -affection became almost an aggravation of kindness, and solicitude, -and curiosity, which made me more eager to escape that protecting -roof-tree, and see the world. On my sister, as I shall explain, it -exercised the most unfortunate influence, and accentuated that peculiar -neurosis whose roots—as I was to learn later—were enlaced in a -sub-conscious sensitivity to occult and invisible agencies, which -indeed I helped to strengthen.</p> - -<p>We were provided with neighbors and friends, and while the village of -St. Choiseul was sufficiently democratic to tolerate and encourage -friendly intercourse with everyone, as a matter of congeniality and -temperamental tastes, we knew intimately but five persons in St. -Choiseul. These five composed a contrasted and picturesque group, and -when all were assembled in our big library, father and mother seemed to -me most attractive, for in converse that was stimulating and personal, -they attained a serenity of feeling and manner, that made them really -delightful. Let me quickly describe our friends.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<p>There was the rug-maker and carpet weaver, Privat Deschat, an elderly, -robust Norman, who worked hard at his tasks in the mornings—and his -mornings began very early—read as steadily for three or four hours -in the afternoon, napped two hours, ate supper with his housekeeper -and hunted up a friend with whom he smoked and chatted, or played Demi -Rouge for the remainder of his day, which never extended over midnight, -and more customarily closed at ten.</p> - -<p>Privat Deschat was unquestionably very good company, quiet, attentive, -observant, and spasmodically conversational, when his suppressed -gift of speech awoke a momentary admiration. He was a short, strong -man, with large cheeks, a massive head, an expressive mouth, made -more so by very good teeth, and what might be called reticent eyes, -in which his delicate and studious self retreated, under the guise -of inexpressiveness. Again these quiet eyes would light up with -enthusiasm, or it might be with distrust and defiance. His speech -accompanied his roused spirit, and no one dared—no one wished—to -interrupt, lest the rebuke might return him to silence. You see, he -thoroughly delighted us. He was a bit quaint in his way of saying -things.</p> - -<p>And there was Capitaine Bleu-Pistache, who had been wounded in the 1870 -fight and limped about on a wooden peg, with a stout cane in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> one hand. -He was an amiable old mustachio, with pleasant eyes, under frowning -eyebrows, a white whisp of hair on the top of his high brow, and a -hooked nose that made him look like a bird of prey. But ah, he was most -lovable! In the afternoon his little yard—he lived down the street on -the opposite side from us in a small red and yellow brick house, hidden -in climbing roses—was filled with children, for the old <i>sabreur</i> told -stories well, and the boys and girls loved to hear him, and then in the -spring he played marbles with them, so like a big chuckling boy, that -it made us laugh to watch him get down on his good knee, and then get -helped up again by the biggest boys, after he had taken his shot. It -was <i>tres jolie</i>! Gabrielle and I thought so, and we played with him -and the rest, when we too were, as the Americans say, kiddies. In later -years when the aches—<i>la sciatique abominable</i>, as he said—settled -in his bones, he gave up marbles, and turned to knitting, and it kept -him quite happy. He would come in the evenings and enjoy our library, -and very often fall asleep and snore ferociously. Father and mother, -I think, loved him, but there was a good deal of veneration in their -affection; Capitaine Jean Sebastien Bleu-Pistache always wore his medal -of honor, won at Gravelotte.</p> - -<p>The captain had a daughter who was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> apple of his eye and never was -there a daughter more sweet and affectionate. Blanchette, he said, was -so like her mother—<i>pauvre Blanche</i>—dead now and resting among the -big weeping willows in the crooked church yard, that ran down the hill -at the other end of the village, with the grave-stones like a huddle -of white or gray lambs chasing each other down the same slope, to the -beech grove, and the purring brooklet, washing the long iris-bloom in -summer. Blanchette said very little, but she always watched her father -softly out of the corners of her eyes, and clapped her hands together -softly too at his old, old stories, just as if she had never heard them -before. Well Blanchette was our third friend.</p> - -<p>And then the school-master—<i>maître d'école</i>—was a good friend, who -smoked profusely, drank our red wine profusely too, and munched the -sugary cookies mother made, as if he had never tasted anything so nice -before. Indeed perhaps he had not, for he lived poorly some miles -away, and came to school on a funny old mule that he never hitched -up anywhere, but just jumped off its back, and let it wander as it -would. Only it wouldn't. It went to sleep on the shady side of the -school-house, and when the sun woke it up then it ambled slowly to the -other side, for you see Emile Chouteau fed his dear friend so very -well, that she was never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> hungry—whatever along the roadside, coming -to school, she fancied, she ate—and always seemed growing fatter and -fatter, so that it looked as if Emile would have to walk to school at -last, when Sarah—he called her that—grew too fat to move.</p> - -<p>How funny—<i>O! tres drôle</i>—the two were so different in size and way; -the fat, sleepy, moody mule, lounging along, and stopping as if to -yawn, while Emile read his book on its back, his head buried in its -pages. And the school-master was so meagre, and long, and nervously -restless and even excitable, and that perplexed stare with his glasses -shoved up on the very top of his bald head! Ah, I see him always when -I pass the school-house now. He dressed in tight fitting clothes, -and they were just a little too small even for his thin body. Where -he got his clothes was a matter of wonder to us. They were a little -faded looking when new, and when they were old they became glossy, and -then old Emile had the tatters mended by his boarding-house mistress. -He looked neat and scrupulous too, in a way, and indeed we liked him -greatly, although he lectured somewhat, and was apt to talk overmuch -when our red wine lashed his spirits into a fervor of enthusiasm about -Virgil, for the whole of reading and literature was summed up in Virgil -to Emile Chouteau.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> - -<p>He loved to tell us:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<i>Virgil est un homme du Mond entier. Il presente le principe du -cosmopolitanisme. Il est immortel parce qu'il n'appartient pas à aucun -pays. Il devient la propriété de tous. La Renaissance était fondue sur -Virgil: les meilleurs sont ses disciples.</i>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>Poor Emile Chouteau, he died before I came back from America, though -long before that he had been pensioned, and lived with his mule in the -same way that he had lived all the long unchanged years of his teaching -in the little school house. And Sarah? Sarah seemed to miss something -after Emile's funeral—the country side followed Emile's body with -candles, for Emile was a devoted Catholic—and not long afterwards she -was found in the school-house. She had broken in the door and walked -in; was she looking for Emile? The last time I saw Sarah she was -ploughing a field in Briois.</p> - -<p>Emile's successor was the fifth acquisition we boasted of in our little -company of intimates—Lorenzo Sebastien Quintado—a Spaniard.</p> - -<p>Lorenzo was not typically Spanish after the fashion of the -story-writers. He was not darkly handsome, languorous, taciturn and -irritable, nor meagre, tall, with flashing eyes and raven hair. O! -quite different and because so different so likeable. For all the world -he made me think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> of the bachelor Sampson Carrasco in <i>Don Quixote</i>. -Do you recall him—"Though Sampson by name this bachelor was no giant -in person, but a little mirth-loving man, with a good understanding, -about twenty-four years of age, of a pale complexion, round faced, -flat-nosed and wide mouthed; all indicating humour, and a native relish -for jocularity?"</p> - -<p>Yes that does bring back to my mind the way, the poise even, and the -sprightly liveliness, the almost expectant jubilation of Lorenzo. He -sang well, and in the long dusks, when the quivering lights of the -sunset died out of the sky along the burning west, where black fringes -of the thick-set trees seemed dipped in fire, his voice rose richly, in -caressing and ear-catching melodies. I almost hear him now, singing so -carelessly, with an untaught art, a simple song praising the charms of -Spanish girls. His voice was a high barytone.</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Fair are the vineyards of Seville,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>O! fair beyond compare,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>But fairer than their fairness still</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>The eyes of ladies there.</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>The orange groves of Moguér</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Are golden as the sun,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>But brighter is the golden hair</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Of girls who in them run.</i></span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span><br /> -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>The morning skies of Cordova</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Were tinted as in flame,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>The cheeks of damsels rosier far</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>As from the hills they came.</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Long live the darling girls of Spain</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Untouched by age or time,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Forever free from care or pain,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Ah! may one yet be mine.</i></span><br /> -</p> - -<p>I remember on one of the last evenings I passed at home—that was -before I went to America—when the fall had come, and the foliage was -deepening into splendid colors, not so splendidly indeed as in America -I think, but still gloriously vivid. There was Privat Deschat, and -Capitaine Bleu-Pistache, and his daughter—we sat together and our -hands often crossed—and dear old Emile—he died soon after—and father -and mother. We were sitting in our pleasant garden around a little -table, directly under the stone wall that shut in our ground on the -south—towards Paris—and everywhere lay the drifted leaves of the one -big chestnut, that grew just outside the wall, in the sloping ground -towards the big green fields, with islands of woods in them. Emile -called the yellow leaves as they dropped silently through the sunlight, -and shone like lustres in the sunlight, before they touched the ground, -<i>pans d'or</i>—gold flakes.</p> - -<p>Our red wine was on the table, and that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> delicious morsel that Hortense -made better than anyone, <i>la galette aux amandes</i>, and it was the -captain who was talking. He was telling about the awful days when the -Germans took possession of the land, when the whole village struck for -the woods, and camped there in a sorry fright, for the women and the -children said to each other, "<i>Nous savons que Bismarck tue tous les -enfants pour qu'il n'y ait plus de Français.</i>"</p> - -<p>"Well, well, they are over—<i>les scelerats ne puissent—ils faire cela -encore</i>—Eh? We are strong now. The army is <i>fitte</i>, as the English -say, and—Ah I will never shoulder arms again, <i>mais</i>, I could, <i>Oui! -Oui! Je puis tirer.</i>"</p> - -<p>I leaned over and whispered to Blanchette, "They should never touch -you Blanchette—<i>Pourquoi; parce que je t'aime</i>," and she pressed my -hand ever so lightly and smiled, and I knew that she was pleased, and -then—"<i>Mon Dieu</i>—I could have stopped <i>l'escadron d'allemands tout -seul</i>!"</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"<i>Tu quoque littoribus nostris, Aeniea nutrix,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Aeternam moriens famam, Caieta, dedisti:</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Et nunc servat honos sedem tuus.</i>"</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>It was Emile, of course, talking his indispensable Virgil, though -surely the captain was not dead yet. "Yes, captain, France will never -forget your service. I know those were hard days. I was sick then at -the village of Louvry,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> not so far you know from the preserve and -forests of Villers-Cotterets, and I can tell you that the Huns came to -us for champagne, and my people told them there was none in the house, -and they swore—<i>terriblement</i>—and said they had seen the bottles -empty, and they would show them to us, and they went into the cellar -and they—<i>Helas, il était tres drôle</i>—pointed to bottles of <i>eau de -Seidlitz</i> which—<i>vous savez</i>—look like champagne bottles a little—a -little—<i>n'est ce pas?</i>—and they took them away, and soon they had -them empty too—<i>ce sont buveurs monstrueuses</i>—but—splendid, the -retribution of the Gods—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Di tibi, si qua pios respectant numina, si quid</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Usquam justitia est</i>—;</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>they were all shockingly sick; you see, <i>la purgative totale</i>—"</p> - -<p>There was some laughing, though Blanchette blushed a good deal, and I -could have boxed the careless mouth of Monsieur, <i>le Maître d'École</i>.</p> - -<p>"Listen <i>mes amis</i>," now it was the curious treble of Privat Deschat, -"I am not sure but the skies will blacken again, and the <i>buse</i> (eagle) -will shut out the sunlight with its swarming hosts. It is not all -over yet. Be watchful. You remember the thunder-storm last week when -the <i>chevreuil</i> came into the back-yards,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> the stags were seen in the -roadways, and the wild boars ran into Briois roaring. I was up that -night late, for I had a package of rugs to send to Paris, and it struck -one in the morning when I put out the light, and said my prayers—<i>ils -n'étaient pas beaucoup</i>—there came a crack, like the last call of -judgment, and then the wind and rain grew mad with ambitions to outdo -each other. It was then I guess that the blow knocked over the tower -on the ruins at Bienne and filled the moat of the chateau, and swelled -the brooks with rain, so that the land to Mareuil became a lake and the -chicken coops swam all the way to La Ferté. Well about an hour after -that the storm vanished. I was still up fearful and watching.</p> - -<p>"I can see a long way over the farms, and suddenly the moon broke -through with a wonderful light—it was full moon—and the wind shifted, -piling the clouds up in swirling masses, black as ink, and still, at -moments flashing with lightning, and crashing with thunder. I could see -the lands far off towards Bienne shining with great lakes of water, the -dark walls of forest, and in the fields huddled cattle, in droves. Then -it seemed to me as if the light grew stronger in the sky—it was about -two in the morning then—so strong it grew, that I felt there must be -some fires about, perhaps towards Briois. I went outside in the road. -It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> was ankle deep with mud, but I ploughed through it to the edge of -the slope of the road, from Paris, and looked towards the east, for the -clear spaces of the sky were there. Then came the vision."</p> - -<p>The speaker stood up among his now fascinated hearers; they were all -leaning toward him, as if drawn by a magnet, and while I closed my hand -more tightly around the warm fingers of Blanchette I too, with her, -strained my ears to hear Deschat's words which were less loud.</p> - -<p>"I could see no fire anywhere, and yet the light was raining down -around me like an electric glow. I was half frightened; it seemed so -marvelous! Well slowly from out of the rolled up thunder and rain -clouds came a curious thing. It was a galloping squadron of horses, -manes flowing, tails stiff behind them, and on them riders and on the -heads of the riders the <i>pickelhaube</i> of the Germans. They flew over -the open sky, and the moonlight seemed to pierce them through and -through, and they shone with white lines within the dark bodies; the -WHITE LINES of SKELETONS. What did it mean? I thought they would never -end. On and on in hosts. Of course they were only mists, clouds, but -so true to form, so real, like gigantic ghosts! I trembled before the -apparition—<i>vue spirituel</i>—and then the light died<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> away, and the -figures became blurred, and the moon went out, behind the clouds, and I -came back to the house. It was half past three.</p> - -<p>"I may be wrong friends, but—I take it that vision was prophecy. The -HUN comes again. Get ready. He comes again—<i>encore</i>!"</p> - -<p>We were all silent for a minute or so, and then—it was the scolding -squeak of Emile—"<i>Eh bien</i>—What of it? We will be ready. <i>Rumpe moras -omnes; et turbata arripe castra.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Mes amis</i>—" it was my father now who rose, and addressed the little -group, turning to this side and to that, almost as if he were before an -assembly; "Deschat is right—<i>il y a raison</i>—the hour of trial comes -once more, the pride of race, the sense of justification demands the -restoration of Alsace and Lorraine. We all know that. Our conquerors -know that, for the poets of both nations have sung it, and the poets -are the prophets, for they feel the vibrations of the pulse of the -peoples; their ears are sharp, they hear the <i>timbre</i> of the distant -gun, before the common eye can see its smoke."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></p> - -<p class="center">GABRIELLE</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">My</span> sister Gabrielle was singularly circumstanced in temperament, as -she had been too curiously abused in treatment. I left her a young man -of twenty-one—she was two years older than I—and only knew of her -changing experiences from letters sent to me at San Antonio, Texas. -Mother and father were always a trifle worried over Gabrielle's retired -and shrinking ways, her abnormal shyness before people, a physical -timidity almost that kept her face averted, her rich, deep, large eyes -half closed as if in dreams, and controlled her speech, impeding and -denying it.</p> - -<p>Her languid action and the frequent recurrent fits of a semi-stupor -passing off into reveries, when the loosened current of her thought -found an unexpected vent in rambling half-lucid, oftentimes poetic -apostrophes and ascriptions, wrought in them a transparent terror that -embarrassed the grieving girl.</p> - -<p>Something of the sort had disturbed me before I left home, because -I loved Gabrielle dearly, and remembered so many intimacies between -us. In our walks around fair Briois<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> we—both perhaps prematurely -serious and inquisitive—talked of things invisible and beautiful, as -angels and fairies, and in an old graveyard back of a church beyond -the village and on the edge of a wood where the birds nested and sung, -wondered over the dead. We amused our fancies with inventions of their -work and play, now their bodies were so securely anchored in the earth. -Because of all this, yes, and because Gabrielle was very pretty too, I -tried to break the mystery of her modesty and lonely habits.</p> - -<p>But really there was no mystery, and her modesty was a lovely maidenly -reserve. Gabrielle was nervously over-strung, and her susceptibilities -were extremely tender and responsive, and then there was growing in her -that inexplicable power which forms the <i>raison d'être</i> of all this -marvellous experience which—as everyone knows now—put an end to the -awful WAR.</p> - -<p>Well, before I left home, before I found myself hung, as it were, over -the bottomless Atlantic in a big sea-worthy American ship, booked for -Galveston, Texas, mother and father decided to send Gabrielle to Paris -to a training school of nurses. It had occurred to them that my sister -with her gentleness, and a real skill in the use of her fingers, would -do well, while the contact with doctors and surgeons—rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> direct, -imperious, and active men—would wear away her apparent mistrust and -nervousness.</p> - -<p>But here was their mistake. The analysis was correct, the procedure -hopelessly wrong. Gabrielle, always obedient and gravely mute about -her own wishes, assented, and entered a training school for nurses -and almost at once encountered the terrors of the operating room. Her -sensitive and refined sense shuddered at the sight of suffering and -disease, her pity for it—willing and self-sacrificing as was her -desire to help—caused her involuntary agony of mind. The vulgarities -of treatment, the raw necessities of the exposure, mutilations, and -the repulsion she felt for blood, and the naked sightlessness of -wounds, amputations, incisions—all the obtrusive physical facts of -the hospital offended her. Too delicate in feeling, too aesthetic in -temperament, too limpid in her affinities, as of a spirit discarnate, -soaring, and apprehensive, she underwent mental tortures—hard to -realize to others differently conditioned—in this enforced service.</p> - -<p>Perhaps I was not myself solicitous enough about her, and her welfare; -because—well, it is clear I am sure—because I was much in love with -Blanchette, and as the days brought me nearer to that moment when I -would leave home, and struggle for that wealth America seems to hold so -temptingly out in her outstretched hands to everyone, I felt almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> -bitterly the probability that—in the nature of things—Blanchette -would not, could not wait for me. When might I return—Ah when?—the -thought wrenched me like a physical violence, and the nightly scarlet -of the evening skies almost, to my despairing heart, seemed stained -with the drops of my own blood.</p> - -<p>It was a year before I went to America—that was in 1895—that I sat -with Blanchette in the garden back of her pleasant home on a low mound, -in a bosque or coppice of trimmed beeches, with a little fairyland -of garden beds before us, of larkspur, hollyhocks, geraniums, and -piebald four-o'clocks, and the slant lights fading slowly upwards -left a thousand hues among their petals. The captain favored our -<i>rendez-vous</i>, and I half thought that I saw him in an upper window of -the house benignantly smiling upon our tryst.</p> - -<p>The comeliness of a sweetly fair girl was Blanchette's, and the -ringletted hair of her blonde mother—a Swede—caught in an abundant -chignon behind her well shaped head, brought into ravishing relief the -rounded and blushing cheeks, the winning deep-set blue eyes, where -something, to me almost etherial, dwelt, the full lipped mouth, with -the blue veins of her temples, the round white neck, and the ample -contours of her shoulders, hidden that night be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>neath the blue folds of -a crepe handkerchief, crossed over her breast like a <i>fichu</i>.</p> - -<p>"Blanchette," I said at length, just as the last lingering patches of -sunlight seemed to escape skyward from the flowers, "you know that I am -going away to America—and—I am not going solely for myself—<i>pas de -tout</i>. You will be with me in my daily thoughts, in my work, and every -dollar—<i>toujours dollars en l'Amerique</i>—I make, will be put away for -YOU; <i>Mais comme je t'aime!</i>"</p> - -<p>It was a sudden impulse, and its very awkwardness showed the sincerity -of my feeling, its impetuous earnestness; and deliciously was it -rewarded. Blanchette caught my face in her soft long hands, and brought -it down to her own; our lips met, and the pledge of our future life -together unuttered, was sworn so deeply in our hearts, that we were -dumbfounded with the overmastering passion of the moment.</p> - -<p>Again and again we embraced, and our lips sought each other with a -rapture inexpressible—<i>une rapture indicible</i>—while the moving hours -swept the heavens of all light, and the fragrance of the gardens rose -overpoweringly like sensuous incitations to our immeasurable needs.</p> - -<p>The long pent-up torrent of our love caught upon its waves each -momentary reserve, and smothered it in the racing tides of our -limitless joy. Voices seemed to speak to us from every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> side, as if -the spirits of nature, enthralled in flower, and tree, and grass, and -herb, disincarnate through sympathy, spoke to us, inarticulate but -real. <i>C'était l'appel aphrodisiac de l'âme</i>—the ecstatic epitome of a -life-time.</p> - -<p>That night I leaned out of the window of my room, and the night, -calm and gloriously light with the gibbous moon half flooding the -broad distances with its pale splendors, seemed to bathe my spirit in -incredible consolations of hope, ambition. An exorbitant confidence -seized me. Anticipation and resolve raised innumerable visions, and the -bending salutation of Success almost audibly filled my ears with its -siren promises.</p> - -<p>Blanchette would wait. I must not be too avaricious. A little was -enough for our serene and inconspicuous days. Let it be in a year—two? -<i>Les fortunes merveilleuses ne viendraient-ils?</i> Perhaps—perhaps—let -us believe so, now, and if the time is lengthened, well—<i>les noces -s'attarderaient seulement un peu</i>.</p> - -<p>So dreaming, so feeding illustrious hopes, I forgot Gabrielle, in -my selfish egotism, and while I had dimly divined the result of her -new work I offered no opposition to our parents' designs, and even -encouraged Gabrielle with specious flatteries. She would grow stronger; -the life of the great city would be full of wonders, and captivate her -mind with its marvels.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> Then there would be fresh friendships, the -gayety of companionships, innumerable alleviations of <i>l'ennui</i>.</p> - -<p>Gabrielle shook her dear head, and the sweet yearning eyes watched me -with a sad disillusionment that I had deserted her, and, I, in the -madness of my joy and in the eagerness of my plans, recurred to the -artifice of commonplaces, and the flat sophistries of comfort.</p> - -<p>I came upon her one morning weeping quietly in her room with her head -leaning against the mantel piece, her white slender fingers pressed -upon her eyes and the tears slipping through them. I caught her in -my arms, and turned her head upon my breast with the real anguish of -self-reproach.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, Gabrielle, what hurts you? You break my heart. Have I -been forgetful? O! believe me Gabrielle it will be all well, and -if—if—perhaps—I know, you say I have been only thinking of myself. -Ah forgive me, Gabrielle; surely you know that I love you from the very -bottom of my heart and if you could only see it you would believe."</p> - -<p>"Yes," she murmured between sobs that wrung my heart. "<i>Oui</i> Alfred, -<i>c'est vrai</i>—but I feel so sorrowful at times, and I am afraid of the -great city, and the visions come to me at night and I wake up shaking -with strange doubts."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Why Gabrielle, what do you mean? Visions! You have never told me of -that before. What visions?"</p> - -<p>It was some time before I could contrive to make her tell me more, and -when she finally drew me to a sofa at the window, keeping her face -fixed outward on the sweet pageantry of the little gardens on the -hill, and the far-away loveliness of the forests, and the shifting -radiances of the lowlands, she held me spell-bound with the strange -confession. Her voice was at first very low, almost inaudible, but -slowly she regained her composure, and the story came from her lips -with an unstudied grace and realism that imposed its truthfulness -upon its hearer. Indeed my own latent sympathy in nature with that of -Gabrielle's, from the first, enthralled me in a trance of confidence.</p> - -<p>"Why, Alfred, a year ago I was standing at my bed-side—it was late -and the night was dark. I had put out my lamp, and was about to say my -prayers, when softly there seemed to steal into the room a light. It -came at first from the ceiling of the room, and then it shifted and -shone like a phosphorescent ball, or a little cloud of glowing fire -half concealed behind a veil. I was not frightened—No, not at all, but -I felt a delicious calmness, a wonderful soothing self-surrender to -an unseen influence, as if the effluence of some mind controlled me, -and—I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> thought so—I sank slowly to the floor, while the light rose -and expanded and grew before my eyes into a shape, a form of flowing -lines of light, with shades between them, and the faintest pencillings -of a rosy tint ran here and there over it, and then—perhaps then -Alfred I had swooned; but there was no fear. It was just like a -delicious lapse in unconsciousness into sleep, and with that came -voices in my ears—faint, very faint, murmurous, indistinguishable, and -then—"</p> - -<p>"And then?" I exclaimed, now thoroughly excited myself, and catching -Gabrielle's hands, bringing her face to mine, and gazing into her eyes -with mute expostulating curiosity.</p> - -<p>"I knew nothing more—all vanished, apparition and voices, and I woke -up leaning against my bed and bathed in perspiration."</p> - -<p>We were both silent for a time, and without any encouragement Gabrielle -resumed her story, but she had freed herself from my arms, and walked -to the center of her room—its walls were well filled with pretty -colored prints, for the most part religious figures—and with her -hands crossed behind her back, stood before me and continued—and now -her rueful expression, and the rebuking tenderness of her eyes, had -disappeared, and in their place was an old familiar smile, inexplicably -reminiscent, like a visible soliloquy. It often arose to her face and -it became her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I waited for the visitation again and again, putting myself in the -same position, and shutting out the light, and—praying. It came -once, a few months after the first, and then I thought it was some -forewarning of danger to father or mother, or to you Alfred, and I -dreaded to open my eyes in the mornings, fearing disaster, sickness—I -know not what; and then Alfred it suddenly seemed to me it meant that -<i>it was my own summons</i>!"</p> - -<p>"And when it came the second time, was it different?" I almost cried -aloud, abruptly guessing that it portended mischief to Blanchette.</p> - -<p>"No, quite the same, but less bright and more restless, changing in its -brightness, and flitting slowly up the walls and back again, and never -forming a figure as at the first. But something else was different; -O! much different—<i>The Voices</i>. They were stronger, and Alfred it is -the voices now that fill my ears at night with callings, and singular -messages, that I cannot understand, and Alfred," she came closer to me, -and her voice, sinking to a whisper, seemed almost stealthy; "I have -spells of fainting. Mother has picked me up many times and I have heard -her talking to father about it, and they have written to the doctors in -the Training School and— Well you know it is all settled, but Alfred -it will not help me. I dread it. I shall be unhappy."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> - -<p>The forlorn misery returned to her eyes, and the despairing gesture, -as she brought her hands forward and leaned them against my shoulders -and with a keen interrogation fixed her gaze upon my own, revealed her -unwillingness to go to Paris. She went on:</p> - -<p>"In those trances—if they are really trances—the voices come in all -sorts of ways to me. I cannot understand it; it scares me and yet I -have grown to wish to hear them—some of them. For they are very, very -different. Some voices are like children talking low, almost lisping, -and always musical, and others are cold and hard; but—Alfred, is not -this wonderful? I can drive those hard, stern voices off, by just -wishing them away; my mind does it somehow, and the others come to me -when I wish them to—O! but it is marvelous."</p> - -<p>Her eyes were lit again with a saintly joy—a little wild I -thought—and for a moment I shuddered at the thought that perhaps -Gabrielle was losing her mind, under the stress of her hallucinations. -Ah! but were they hallucinations? I was not unwilling to believe them. -Both Gabrielle and I had indulged in the reading of ghostly tales, when -children, and because it was just a little difficult for us to gratify -our fancy for the weird and the supernatural—all the eccentricities of -the disembodied—we had loved them the more.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> - -<p>We were interrupted in our talk by some call for Gabrielle, and I -was left alone to ponder the strange matter, with I think, a crude -kind of expectancy that we approached transcendent mysteries, -dwelling unconfessed in my mind. But I was not a little alarmed also. -Gabrielle's delicate texture, her spiritualized emotions, which also -in their poignant intensity of feeling assumed now to me the aspect of -a thaumaturgic power, might induce some mental derangement. Uncertain -what to do, and unwilling to tell the affair to our parents, who would -only see in it a new urgency for Gabrielle's transportation to changed -fields of association, I concluded to confide everything Gabrielle had -told me to Blanchette.</p> - -<p>Blanchette was incredulous. She could not believe it. It offended -her robust sense of actual living and the sharp realization in her -of the materiality of the senses. You see in Blanchette something of -the captain's skepticism, his naked Voltairism had developed. She was -silent for a while, and then answered very slowly my question, "What is -best to do?"</p> - -<p>"Alfred, Gabrielle is unwell; you must get her away. She lives too -lonely a life, reads too much, and is unsociable. Let her once live -among the hard facts of the hospital, and the training school, -and—Ah! then—it will all go, like the fogs—<i>comme les brouillards -s'evanouis-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>saient quand le soleil les éclate</i>. Eh? Alfred, you know -that."</p> - -<p>I did not know it, and I was ill disposed at first to adopt -Blanchette's view. But she was very tender and affectionate, and I was -blind and too happy—too miserable too, as I must soon leave her—to -do justice to Gabrielle. And so it came about that I argued the matter -with Gabrielle, and insisted that she must try Paris, and the school, -and the doctors, and forget the visitations, and mingle with the world -a little, and, amongst new acquaintances, put to flight the aggravating -"voices," for—the other marvel—the shining image—had never returned.</p> - -<p>This latter fact contributed a better efficacy to my persuasions, as it -seemed to prove that the whole business was some delusion of the mind. -Gabrielle was not a bit convinced, but she was so dutiful, so resigned, -and so faithful, that she yielded, put on the address of willingness -she did not really feel, just to please me.</p> - -<p>I took her to Paris and entrusted her with, O so many adjurations, to -Doctor Manuelle Herissois, who was most considerate and pleasing and -talked with Gabrielle with great adroitness and—I left her smiling, -but as she kissed me <i>Adieu</i>, her dear eyes were very wet indeed, -and for a moment in my own heart I mistrusted the part I had played, -and might have, in an instant, reversed the whole transaction, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> -Gabrielle turned half away, while our hands yet pressed each other, -and said; "<i>Adieu</i> Alfred. Do not come to see me when you go away to -America. I could not stand it. Write only. That will do," and then, -with a half stifled cry she fled into her room—her apartment in the -school, and quickly closed the door, and I was left mute and irresolute.</p> - -<p>What is more bitter than the remembrance of careless acts, thoughtless -things we have done which caused grief to those we loved, and yet, -while loving, neglected. It all came wrong, and still—<i>assurement le -bon Dieu, Il le faisait</i>—it ended the war!</p> - -<p>That night—I well recall it, I think, each minute of it—Blanchette -ravished me with her loveliness, her joyous salutation, her infectious -gayety, and lost in my own pleasure, the foolish vanities of doting -youth, poor Gabrielle in her loneliness, was altogether forgotten. Dear -sweet sister, with the patient heart, the endless resignation, the -guileless impulses, and with that inscrutable mysticism of feeling, -that finally brought to her the discarnate souls of the slain, the -ghostly assault of the unnumbered dead—Ah! <i>Malheureuse!</i> not yet! -again my tell-tale tongue, the hurrying scribble of my heedless pen!</p> - -<p>Well, there were so many things to think of, and Blanchette was so -eager to see me every minute, that when I had taken leave of all of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> -our friends, and father and mother had invoked blessings on my head, -and exacted promises that I would write each week, and the captain had -made me very sure that he wanted a few pounds of the Texas pecan nuts -sent to him, and Privat Deschat asked for a half dozen hanks of Texas -cotton, if they could be found in the Galveston stores, Emile Chouteau -(it was after he had left the school), wished only my happy return, -that the waters would be propitious, the winds and the waves, and, if -storms, why then:</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>dicto citius tumida aequora placat</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Collectasque fugat nubes, solemque reducit</i>;</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>and Sebastien Quintado had hugged me a dozen times and smacked me -robustly as many times on each cheek—why, there was no time to be lost -for me to pack up my few belongings, and get away to Marseilles as -fast as ever I could—and then had not Gabrielle said <i>not to come to -bid her Adieu; that she could not stand it</i>? <i>Certainement.</i> And so it -was, that when I stood on the quay at Marseilles, trembling, nervous, -and half regretful, everyone had been seen, everyone embraced, and -everyone's orders taken, and—she, the wounded, dear sister of my flesh -and blood, was forgotten—O! No, not forgotten—not that, but missed -as it were in the furious haste, and wonderment, and expectation, and -dread.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was a big ship, a frigate, loaded with wines and cheeses and spices, -and many jim-cracks of all sorts, that was to take me to the New World, -and when I stood on her glistening deck, beneath the blazing sun, and -France slowly sank away from my eyes and just at last the white spot -of Marseilles, like a disk on the horizon, <i>went out</i>, like a light -snuffed out in a candle, I went to my room and cabin, and laid down and -held my hands before my face and cried pretty hard.</p> - -<p>And somehow then, the very presence of Gabrielle surged before me like -some embodiment of rebuke, and the physical pressure of a hand on my -shoulder startled me to my feet with a cry of anguish. But it was -nothing, only the reaction of my body to the urgency of my grief over -Gabrielle's neglect. For days the thought of my sister obscured my -happiness, although the newness of everything—ministered deliciously -to my <i>amour-propre</i>. Good resolutions helped to comfort me, and the -first thing for me to do when America was gained would be to write a -long, careful, loving letter to Gabrielle.</p> - -<p>My project of going to America can be briefly explained, as it may -appear almost quixotic and unreasonable otherwise, especially my -destination in Texas. But some years before acquaintances, made in -Paris, where I was studying law,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> led to this departure. They had -interests in cattle and farm lands, in the great state, and had -frequently made me offers to go out, and watch their rights, and report -the prospects and conditions, with inducements so advantageous to -myself that, conjoined with the long cherished project formed in my own -mind to try the chances in the Republic, resulted in this. I accepted -their invitations against my parents' wishes, who at first resolutely -denied their permission. This was overcome by my own increasing -obstinacy, that had begun to approach the earnestness of disobedience.</p> - -<p>Blanchette and I had, with the ludicrous solemnity of young lovers, -exchanged the pledges of fidelity, and I, in an exuberance of -hopefulness, promised to return in five years, which by some fancied -finality seemed to both of us the limit of our possible endurance. With -forceful vows I had engaged to live most simply and the frugality of my -expectations in living—measured the quickness and value of my savings, -and indeed, as it happened, I made my way fast.</p> - -<p>At San Antonio I became at last established, with the various -interests, I was to watch, quite fully comprehended and diligently -tended. I do not know that I ever fell in love with San Antonio, but I -certainly got to like it very well, and in later years I have recalled -it with feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>ings of tenderness, that came pretty near to affection. I -have every reason to be grateful to it, for I was most successful. I -had prospered, greatly prospered. When I found at last that the term -of my exile came ideally near to the period when I might consider -myself well enough off to go back and claim Blanchette, I think that my -respect for San Antonio rose to the apex of unaffected enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>Because the purpose and body of this history is connected with the -utterly unparalleled circumstances of the ending of the monstrous war -of this century, I pass over the irrelevant details of my life in -America, except only to point out the financial luck that enabled me -to return to France, at a critical moment. In five years I was almost -rich—in my own modest estimation. At any rate I had enough, and a -luxurious indolence, which was part of my nature, fascinated me with -its temptations of rest and culture, while the thought of the waiting -Blanchette—whose letters were so true-hearted and devoted—kept -sensitized my eagerness to return almost to the point of madness. And -there was Gabrielle.</p> - -<p>I had been most dutiful to Gabrielle. I fulfilled all of the many -brotherly resolves I made on the voyage to America, which had been the -index of my self-reproach at leaving her so carelessly, and sweetly -and reassuringly had she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> answered. Alas! I only learned much later -how devotedly she had hidden her sufferings from me, that I might -not be distressed in my new home. Now when I realized that my little -fortune—part of it the result of a speculative incident so frequent -in the wonderful land of Hope—would not only unite me with Blanchette -but enable me to give comfort and happiness to Gabrielle, I was wild -with impatience to get away. It was my last month in San Antonio; the -leave for my return had been received by me, from my employers, and the -successor to my position would be at any moment in my office ready to -take charge.</p> - -<p>It was my last day; a sultry wilting day towards the end of August, -and I had exerted every energy in arranging the directions for my -successor, and incidentally clearing off a large amount of that -surreptitiously invading refuse of unfinished odds and ends, that -accumulate, in one way and another, in any business, which cannot be -completed by daily installments of work. A large amount of mail had -been disposed of. The office force, tired out, and half angry at the -unexpected pace I had demanded, had left, and I was alone in a large -shop fronting upon —— Street, the principal street of San Antonio. -Gray frowning clouds had formed somewhere in the upper air. I could -detect their presence even without seeing them, by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> deepening -obscurement of the opposite houses, and a chill brought in their -enveloping bosoms as they crowded down upon the city, conveyed a well -understood notice of some sudden meteorological caprice that would -relieve the tension of the heat, with possibly damaging accompaniments -of disaster.</p> - -<p>I sighed contentedly; the future just then, however dark the sky might -be, was radiant with the most varied lights of anticipation and of -promise. My hand moved an apparently unopened letter, or perhaps, in -its vague stirring over the desk before me, had dislodged it from -some crevice in the drawers, or beneath the folios and baskets, -and I abruptly became conscious of ITS presence. It was a human -utterance—that letter—it might have cried out to me with the incisive -agony of its menacing contents. It might I say—perhaps it did—but -through the coarse obstructive mechanism of my ears its voice, that -should have crashed around me like the call of Fate, was utterly -unheard, and it lay there just an overlooked and silent scrap of paper.</p> - -<p>I turned to it lazily, but in the next instant my eyes, apprehensive -through that nervous divination of thought, that writes a message in -our souls before we read or hear it, recognized the hand-writing of -Gabrielle. I felt the racing blood leave my cheeks, and stir my heart -with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> feverish palpitations. No letter from my sister was due now; only -last week I had received one. I could scarcely keep my fingers still -enough to tear open its cover. I knew; I knew. O! God how certainly I -knew, that in the blackness of the darkening day a greater blackness, -behind that spotless white paper, would rush out to overwhelm my life!</p> - -<p>In the fading light leaning against the door-sill as the men and -women of the street hurried homeward, with backward glances at the -now onrushing columns of dusky vapor in the sky, I read the letter. I -shuddered in the fear lest in the uncontrolled frenzy of my heart some -treacherous cry, some blackguard defiance of the Almighty, might bring -them around me in consternation and in anger.</p> - -<p>My eyes glazing slowly with the rising paralysis of terror read this:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p> - -<i>Dear Brother</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p><i>Something has happened. Alfred, Blanchette is sick</i>—vraiment—<i>quite -sick. I am now home in St. Choiseul nursing her. She asks for you, -Alfred. Could you come? Perhaps it would be well</i>—Je dis peut-etre -seulement—<i>and yet, Alfred, I believe it would be best. You could -help her wonderfully. Even yet, say, you will come, and things will be -better.</i></p> - -<p><i>Ah! my brother, I am sorry. O! so sorry to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>write this, but you -see there is nothing to be done but to—shall I say it?—Alfred, -Blanchette is very sick. It is a fever. The doctors reassure us, but -because Blanchette calls for you so often, they are convinced that it -would be good—very good—perhaps indispensable; you understand. Come -Alfred—Come, come. We will tell her you are coming.</i></p> - -<p> -<i>Gabrielle; St. Choiseul,<br /> -1900</i><br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>The paper crumpled in my hands; something like a vapor clouded my eyes, -and hearing in my ears was suffocated in a sullen roar that came from -nowhere, and then I felt myself smashed against the pavement, at the -door of the office, and some undissipated residue of cognition recorded -the fact, that I was being lifted and carried away.</p> - -<p>And when again the coordinated senses revealed sensibly to me my -surroundings, I was on a bed in the hospital, in a wide white room, -with a nurse and a doctor, and in my own ears now sounded my own voice, -and all it said was compressed in struggling cries: "<i>Je viens, Je -viens, Je viens</i>—I come, I come, I come!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></p> - -<p class="center">MY RETURN</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">It</span> is fifteen years today since Blanchette died. I have grown old since -then with an age not of years, though by reason of a sister's love, I -have been consoled, strengthened, even, and now, in the presence of the -world's disaster, succumb to some unutterable conviction that the ends -of God have little need of the prayers of men.</p> - -<p>After my delirium in San Antonio had passed, I resumed my normal -self-possession, though a nervous weakness—since developing into a -muscular paralysis—made me at moments inert or half trembling with a -deceitful dread that set my heart beating curiously. How well I recall -it all; those days of anguish, with the twilight glimmering of joy -that I had come in time to see her, and with too a mystical sense of -attachment between us both, lasting beyond death, and bathed, as with a -consecration, in the bitterest waters of Marah.</p> - -<p>I had rushed from San Antonio to New York, and from New York to Havre, -and thus, in two weeks, almost exactly, stood halting before the gate -of the captain's house in St. Choiseul.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> The autumn season already had -begun to stain the woods with red and yellow, the delicate atmosphere -of early fall filled the fair scenes of meadow and hill and clustered -homesteads, with ravishing tints. Everything, as I despairingly gazed -upon it was so eloquent of beauty and peace and—realization! And what -lay in the house before me? I almost fell to my knees in the crushed -agony of suspense, but Ah! No! it was not suspense. I <i>knew</i>; that -psychic power which dwelt in my Gabrielle, which brought to her the -myriad voices of the dead in their awful supplications—<i>Eh bien</i>, not -that now—some of that power was with me too, and every step I went -forward to that pitiless revelation of defeat, accompanied the stern -record in the thought that hope was delusion. I had met no one; the -deserted village was itself a presage.</p> - -<p>I looked up at the silent house charming in its vines, flowers, into -the walled garden blushing now in the hectic flush of royal gladiolus, -up at the empty windows, and above, far above into the depthless -blue sky, where we men and women somehow place the everlasting -dwelling-place of the Almighty. Almost as I reached the door it opened, -and in its frame stood Gabrielle, much changed; I saw that at once, -through all my sadness, but solemnly beautiful I thought. My heart -leaped towards her; in the fast approaching desolation she, my blessed -sister,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> would save me, lift me up from the terrors of bereavement, not -with strength, but with the divine compassion that I felt now visibly -abided in her.</p> - -<p>Gabrielle opened wide her arms. I caught her in my own, and she -whispered in my ear; "Alfred I knew you were here. Before I saw you the -<i>sense</i> of it was with me."</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, is there no hope—no hope?" The words choked me like some -insurmountable obstruction in my throat.</p> - -<p>"Yes Alfred," the voice, always soft and delightful, was just a little -tremulous with sympathy, her own deep love. "There may be; the fever -has subsided a little, but—Well, come in. Blanchette asks for you so -much. Come, the spare room is at the head of the stairs. Be noiseless. -I will fix everything."</p> - -<p>We ascended the stairs, and I waited outside the closed door with my -head pressed against its lintels, murmuring—what were they?—Prayers? -Possibly.</p> - -<p>It opened softly in a few minutes, and Gabrielle with a gesture of -invitation to enter and with her finger on her lips, moved before me -into the room. I saw the waiting group at the side of a low wide bed. -The captain, erect, still, with features blanched into a pallor that -matched his white disordered hair, his figure bent slightly forward as -he leaned on his cane,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> and kept his eyes unchangingly riveted upon the -bed, whose occupant I could not see. At the bed-side was the watching -doctor, and to him now Gabrielle approached, withdrawing then a little -to one side with her head bowed, but with her eyes noting the sick girl -whom yet I could not see.</p> - -<p>I slipped to my knees with a sudden motion outward, that brought me to -the bed-side, and for a moment I stopped there, with my face buried in -the coverlid. It had been done; Blanchette knew. The next moment her -hand caressed my hair, and the weak stroke penetrated me with such an -ageless longing that, do what I would, I shook from head to toe. <i>Mais -courage</i>; I must be now most calm. Yes, yes, <i>most calm</i>. So I wrestled -with myself, biting my lips, and forcing to my eyes the haggard smile -of reassurance. My hands imprisoned the hand of Blanchette, and slowly -raising my head our eyes met.</p> - -<p>I did not see what I saw afterwards, the shrunken figure, the hollow -cheeks, the paling lips, the slow hideous change of emaciation. No! -nothing; only her eyes, and in them shone something so fathomless, so -beatific, that it suddenly lifted the intolerable weight of pain, it -smote the clouds of misunderstanding or rebellion, and they vanished. -It filled my ears with music, in place of groans, it summoned by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> -wand of a supernatural enchantment unheralded figures of blessing, and -in those eyes I read the futurity of our endless happiness.</p> - -<p>I moved my head towards her, and despite the restraining hand of the -doctor kissed her lips, slowly, slowly, that the lingering embrace -might fill her soul with confidence, and against her heated cheeks -I swept my lips again and again. It was over. Our tryst was kept. -Gabrielle called me gently, and Blanchette fell from me in a fainting -spell, while the doctor firmly lifted me up to my feet, and the captain -caught my unsteady body.</p> - -<p>And—we had not spoken in that transient interval of surrender—thus -mutely with the deep intelligence of an uttermost love we were married, -and in that restraint unrepiningly, with an entire joy, I have lived -and <i>live</i>. Some symptoms of that psychic erethism which possessed -Gabrielle were also born in me, and before my eyes even now sweeps the -vision of my Blanchette, and in the night her voice fills my ears, and -her hand caresses my forehead. But later it was through Gabrielle that -I summoned her to me, and in this way grew the apparent supersensual -power of my sister to materialize the ghostly denizens of the -Hereafter, and install them, as it were, in matter before the physical -eye.</p> - -<p>Blanchette's burial was itself a poem, so sweet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> so tender, so rich -in the love of friends, and in the graces of both religion and of -nature. The day was divinely rare. Everywhere was the blessed soft, -gently warming sunshine, and the last flowers of the autumn woke to -the summery touch, and bloomed again. From the doorway of her home -the little procession filed, bearing, on the unshrinking shoulders -of eight villagers, the coffin, draped in white and enjeweled with -blooms. Before it went the wavering line of altar boys, singing in -thin sopranos, and the robed Padre—Father Antoine—grave and noble, -and behind it the captain and I walked, our hands clasped together. -Although the captain moved forward erectly, I felt the nervous -pressures of his hand, tightening and relaxing, and for a moment now -and then he leaned upon me. <i>Mais—le brave garçon</i>—he never flinched, -and if his heart was near the breaking point, no one knew. Behind him -walked Gabrielle and father—mother was in the church waiting with -the congregation—and then Privat Deschat and Sebastien Quintado, and -then the long file of friends followed, old and young, who had loved -Blanchette for her goodness, her prettiness, her kindness, her grace of -being and of sympathy.</p> - -<p>They came from far and near; they were men and women, girls and boys, -some carrying candles, some wreaths, some little crosses of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> Easter -palms which they would throw in the grave, or on it. The altar boys -carried lighted candles, and the air was so still that the almost -invisible wisps of flames rose straight upward, and were revealed by -the undulous smoke that sprang from their tips as the candles wavered -in the hands of the acolytes. Slowly we moved on—somehow I seemed half -unconscious, and yet most sensitive to the day's supreme charm—the -shrill chanting of the boys, mingled almost indistinguishably in my -ears with the murmurous hum of belated cicadas, the slow rustling of -footsteps before and behind me, the occasional whisper of the vacantly -stirred foliage in the trees, the distant pipings of birds, and the -far-off wail of some wandering or bereaved dog.</p> - -<p>It was a dream almost, and ever and anon, like some spiritual -effluence, the fragrance of the dying season from the field, the -distant woods, the savory banks of the meadow-streams, invaded and -enmeshed my feelings, with a strange fervor of complacency, as though -I followed, not the dead body of my love, but was on my way to meet -her elsewhere. So indeed it seemed to me in the little church, where -all the frail magnificence our little church could summon for her -funeral was so loyally displayed, and where the soft voiced father -spoke with the brave and cordial accent of confidence, that Blanchette -Bleu-Pistache was most surely now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> in Paradise. Then I felt my own soul -leaving me amid the tapestries and lights, and upward with her, hand -in hand, I was hastening to fields of asphodel and unbroken choirs of -the celestial, and that then I swooned sideways, and for an instant the -captain held me, when the reverberant senses returned, with the rush of -whirring sounds, and I was myself again.</p> - -<p>Blanchette was buried in our church-yard, somewhat towards its western -wall, where the ivy clung late in the winter to the stones, where a -tall Lombardy poplar planted too against the wall, stood like some -impossibly gigantic sentinel, and where afterwards indeed the flowers -that I watered, in an agony of trust that Blanchette knew I kept thus -alive within me the imperishable union of our hearts—spread the sweet -wantonness of abundant color and perfume above her, flowers that when -they died in the autumn's cold and the winter's searing frosts and -snows, were replenished with others plucked from the conservatory of -our home, and placed under the white cross like some herbal sacrifice.</p> - -<p>Ah—<i>c'est assez</i>—I must not linger on the great sorrow, though in the -inextinguishable pain that I feel at moments over its recall, a hidden -selfishness as of a satiety of suffering prevails to force me to write -and write. But I have forgotten and my wandering thought ob<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>scures my -whole purpose. It is Gabrielle that all this grievous remembrance leads -to, and she who has ended the awful WAR, is the theme of this most -wonderful experience, I have essayed to tell so imperfectly.</p> - -<p>After Blanchette's death I stayed with the captain for some months, -until a grave disease struck me down almost to death's door, which -indeed I craved to open and to close behind me. It was a nervous fever, -from which I have never quite recovered, as it left me with recurrent -fits of weakness and a debility of energy quite unlike my former self. -The captain adopted an orphan girl, who was like an incarnation of his -daughter, and who infinitely blessed him, with a similar gentleness and -sanity and beauty.</p> - -<p>Gabrielle and myself became again closely knit together in -sympathy. She had nursed me in my sickness, and she read to me in -my convalescence, and then she told me of the harsh and repulsive -life of the hospital; how its penury of grace afflicted her, and the -physical destitution of the hideously sick had overcome her with an -irrepressible repulsion, and the half savage nakedness of exposures and -surgery had thrown her into momentary spasms of despairing melancholy. -But she had not complained; it was the ordeal of preparation, she -said; she had undergone extreme dread and misery of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> heart and mind, -and, under the visitations of her distress, those ecstasies—as she -now slowly and tearfully confessed—of desire to see the ghostly and -immaterial had returned and strengthened, and to her had come visions -and voices, and again and again in her prayers the apparent touch of -fingers tracing the braid of her hair, or even smoothing the temples of -her head had actually been felt.</p> - -<p>None of these things were told to me by Gabrielle until I was -effectually improved, and then they became the outpouring of her heart. -She had been unwilling to speak of them to father and mother since -they would have, beyond any question, regarded them as the symptoms of -mental infirmity, and their solicitude might have readily taken the -form of some new insistence upon the avocations of the city. Gabrielle, -after the death of Blanchette had persisted in her refusal to return -to the hospital in Paris, and, after a brief and a little unpleasant -disagreement, mother and father permitted her to stay at home. Then -came my sickness, when Gabrielle proved most useful, and then by a -natural adjustment—for exactly as it had been in the old days of -childhood we became inseparable—Gabrielle assumed domestic duties, and -our home life was reinstituted and complete.</p> - -<p>It was delightful, though the happiness it brought to me was a solemn -tenderness of feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>ing and thought simply. I had brought back from -America a small sum of uninvested funds, and when this was carefully -invested, with the interest from the moneys held by me in America and -with my father's maintenance, our living became, more than ever, free -from anxieties, and comfortably luxurious. Nor were we careless of our -duties to the less fortunate; the instruction of our parents had always -laid emphasis upon the invincible demands of charity in the Christian -life, and no one more thoughtfully than they furnished to us examples -of its most admirable exercise.</p> - -<p>And here I must refer to something now certainly obvious to my reader. -The religious faith of our parents was not ours—not Gabrielle's -nor mine. Perhaps that had much to do with that felt, though never -mentioned, separation—<i>désaccordement</i>, we French would, I think, call -it—that latently grew up between our parents and ourselves, dutiful -as we always were and loving too. Gabrielle and I were Catholics, and -our reversion, as it might be called, had taken place as we approached -maturity, when something in our natures responded vitally to the -spiritual richness and the sensuous impressions of the Catholic church, -while the absence of a Protestant church in St. Choiseul—supplemented -by the meeting together of various members in a room, wherein my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> -father often assumed the functions of the preacher—helped to establish -our desertion. There was indeed a moment's exasperation over it all, -but it was most evanescent, and, yielding to a larger liberality of -conviction than most Protestants, our parents were at least contented -that their children worshipped God and Christ.</p> - -<p>Certainly to Gabrielle the Catholic symposium of saints, and its -hierarchy of visible and invisible powers, appealed overwhelmingly. -She surrendered to the full harvest of its supernatural offerings, -with the gladness, the rapture, of the energumen. Now too that the -psychiatric sense or control had started within her nature, she rose -to the strange contingency of communication with the dead, with a -transcendent joy. No longer thrust upon the abhorrent carnalities -of the hospital, graciously as she acknowledged their necessity and -kindness, Gabrielle, with me, her emotional companion too, returned -to all the quietism of our life in St. Choiseul, and revelled in her -exuberance of mystical detachment. It was a partial aberration of mind, -I almost now think, despite its wondrous results, accompanied with -the enthralled wonderment and pleasure of a temperament poetical and -structurally imaginative. Gabrielle became neurotic. Her hospital life -and its terrors had something to do with it.</p> - -<p>This community of feeling and the gradual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> development of that -unhealthy indulgence in the mediumistic power, Gabrielle now discovered -she possessed (which became encouraged through my own solicitations) -formed between us a bond of fellowship, that became secretive and -masonic. It was not a fortunate circumstance, and yet SEE what marvels -flowed from it—at least so I think, and indeed I am not unwilling to -protest that it was God's hand! Of course it was my desire to approach -Blanchette in her spiritualized state, that led us onward along the -mysterious and fascinating path of our strange psychic experiments. -And so I come to that illustrious moment when I saw Blanchette in the -spirit, when—<i>Mon Dieu</i>, can I ever forget it?—that pale vision of my -own Blanchette issued from the darkness, stayed on the threshold of the -real for an instant, softly luminous, and yet discrete in form, though -the corporeal properties of the dear face I adored, seemed blurred in -the haze of an exceeding brightness.</p> - -<p>It was probably about six months after Blanchette's death, that I -ventured to speak to Gabrielle about the hope I almost treacherously -nourished—for the practice is forbidden by the Church—that she might -be able to summon Blanchette from the world of spirits. It was towards -the evening of a spring day, that just began to intimate the glorious -oncoming of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> new season's wealth of beauty—a beauty I longed for, -for with the reawakening earth, with the fresh laughter of the whole -wide sphere of living things, I knew the dead weight of my grief would -be lightened. The sunlight, the song of birds, the flowing vesture of -the colored earth, would enter and dissolve it, and thus, mellowed into -sadness only, it would encumber me no longer with leaden hopelessness. -We were standing together at the bottom of the garden, watching the -first sproutings of the crocus from beneath a film of sheltered snow, -and the cheering warmth of the full sun filled us with the instincts of -life. It opened my lips.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle," I said, "I want you to bring Blanchette back to me."</p> - -<p>My sister was not surprised; she turned to me with the most natural -gesture of willingness, placing her hands upon my shoulders and looking -straight into my eyes.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Alfred, I will. I have heard Blanchette. But I was afraid to -tell you. Twice she has spoken to me, in the night, and once in the -brightest daylight, as I stood at the window of my room. Can you stand -it? For <i>see</i> Alfred, I feel the power strongly in these spring days, -as if the resurrection of life in all these things," she swept her arms -outward to the landscape, "brought with it the spirits of the dead; as -if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> they too liked a reprieve from their isolation, and thronged to the -earth. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p>"Oh! Gabrielle what has Blanchette said to you? Was it in words? -Gabrielle, Gabrielle, it cannot be. Do not fool me with mere fancies."</p> - -<p>Gabrielle smiled, a smile, as it were, of commiseration at my doubt, -for now indeed she lived, I do believe, in a mingled world of things -that we call real, and things that we call unreal, and <i>to her</i> they -were almost the same.</p> - -<p>"I do not fool you Alfred. Why should I? It is so simple and it is so -true. See."</p> - -<p>She left me, beckoning for me to follow her. She walked to a walnut -tree, a low precarious sapling which had furtively pushed its -way upward into some semblance of a tree, and leaned against its -slender trunk, with her eyes pressed upon her crossed hands. I stood -irresolute, half expectant, half miserably self-reproachful. Suddenly -Gabrielle spoke. Her voice was itself strange, very distinct but -chilled into a sepulchral gravity.</p> - -<p>"It is all very dim, yellow and blue clouds float up and down, and -here and there a figure moves, and there are voices, and now a great -light—too bright—too bright—it shatters all!"</p> - -<p>Her voice had risen to a tone louder than conversation, and she had -raised her head with a quick upward movement, as if it had been jerked -backward. Almost instantly she turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> again to me, her face blanched, -and her eyes just a little wild and strained, with no recognition in -them. The oddness passed almost as quickly as it came, and Gabrielle -smiled, and shook her head apologetically, and for one moment we -watched each other with curiosity. But Gabrielle was quite herself, and -coming close to me, she whispered:</p> - -<p>"No Alfred it is not hard. You saw that I pierced the unseen; though, -as it most usually happens when in the open, or with others, the -pictures are confused and the voices difficult. I cannot make them out. -But we shall try tonight together. Hold my hand and wish your wish, and -let our minds—our souls—call for <i>her</i> and she will come. O! I am -certain!"</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, I think this is not wise. You must cast off this -inclination, and banish all of these impressions. Is it not a -dangerous habit? Are you not afraid that it may unhinge your reason? -And yet—Ah! how well you know, Gabrielle, that if I could only just -be quite certain that Blanchette waits—waits. And then <i>but once</i>! -Yes but once! Gabrielle," I caught her by the shoulders, and held her -imprisoned, so that our eyes gazed into each other's, mine with a -scrutiny that was half anger, half solicitude, and hers with an intense -affection.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle—this must end. You hear me. <i>End.</i> Call Blanchette if you -can. I will help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> you—and then—Let it all go. Cure your temperament, -banish these hallucinations. I know I have been guilty in listening to -you, but now—after Blanchette—after Blanchette—" the words left my -lips wearily, as if the next alternative were feared most by me; "after -Blanchette, no more of it. It is wrong, it is a diabolical procedure, -mixed up with nonsense and disease. <i>Stop it.</i>" How extravagant are our -inconsistencies. I admonished Gabrielle, but I was not unwilling myself -to stoop to the indulgence that might bring me a glimpse—no matter -how fraught with deception, with the danger of madness, of the worse -consequences of physical deterioration, even of religious apostacy, if -only a glimpse of her I had made eternally the lode-star of my life, -now and hereafter; if only a glimpse, might be vouch-safed.</p> - -<p><i>Mais pourquoi Non</i>—was I so wrong? What indeed has happened? Ah I -know Gabrielle is—<i>arretez vous, pauvre barbouilleur, pas encore</i>—Go -on with your story. It is Gabrielle speaking.</p> - -<p>"Brother, you do not know what you are asking me. It is impossible—it -would rob me of life, for I should not know then whether to really live -in this world and to die in the other, or to leave you and mother, and -father and home here, and to live the more glorious life beyond. Now I -live in both worlds. Yes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> truly—in the mornings the clouds of angels -waken me, through the nights my bed-side is covered with the spread -haloes of the dead, and in my ears sound the sweetest whispers, and -salutations of the saints. Throughout the day, if I only shut my eyes, -and ask for their appearing, the visions continue, and even my face is -brushed by fairy hands, or my lips feel the imprint of unseen, unknown -faces."</p> - -<p>My sister's face shone with an interior illumination, impossible to -describe, and as she talked to me I felt the astonishment that might -come to one who converses with some incarnate spirit. It did appeal -to my sympathy, for I lived now myself half immersed in the daily -contemplation of another world; it met my own anticipations vividly, -and I could not condemn, nor evade its fascination. But I wondered and -so questioned her more closely.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, how can all this be? You have never said such things to me -before, as if you were moving in a spirit-land with your feet in this -world, and your head lifted above the stars. What does it mean? I knew -something, but this tumult—<i>fourmillement</i>—of apparitions I knew -nothing of."</p> - -<p>"No, Alfred, I know you did not, though it has often been on my tongue -to let you know how the visitations multiplied. I think, Alfred, it -really is, as St. Paul says, that we are en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>compassed by a cloud -of witnesses, or this world is itself unreal, and the realities -are elsewhere; perhaps that everything about us, could we for an -instant strip them of their appearances, would be something else—you -see?—<i>something else</i>, and this atmosphere," she lifted her hand -upward, shook it rapidly, causing little puffs of air against my face, -"was loaded with currents of the dead!"</p> - -<p>We both got up and walked slowly towards the house.</p> - -<p>"Of course you have said nothing of any of these things to mother or -father?" I queried.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Alfred, I could not. They would not understand, and then why—why -should I?"</p> - -<p>After a pause: "Alfred, it will do no harm. Do not think me mad, or -deluded, or—or—unbalanced, as they say, even. I cannot make it plain -perhaps—but this I know—<i>they</i> are there—<i>they</i>, the spirits—" and -she waved her hand up and down—"and when I call them they come, and -they come when I do not call."</p> - -<p>She was almost laughing now, and studying her attentively I could not -see any of those symptoms in feature, or eyes, or voice, or manner, -that betray to the alienist the disordered brain. Gabrielle never to me -looked lovelier.</p> - -<p>The next moment as we entered the hall-way I caught her arm and turned -her abruptly to myself; "Gabrielle, show me Blanchette."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> - -<p>Her arms were about my neck in a trice, and she spoke in my ear; "Yes, -Alfred, tonight, in the library. Come. It will be my seance—and -<i>yours</i> too. Our spirits are in tune. We will roll back the visible and -see the invisible. The substantial shall become the transubstantial, -and the diverse, one."</p> - -<p>This language was the only indication, at the moment, that I possibly -could have regarded as idiotic—in the common sense—and I was half -inclined to believe that Gabrielle—not without fun and humour—meant -to bewilder me with it, as a joke.</p> - -<p>Would I come? "Yes certainly," and so I left her, wonderingly, as I -passed to my room, recalling that utterly impossible fiction in an -English book written by an artist, called, as I remember it, <i>The -Martian</i>. I shuddered a little when I closed the door of my room, and -sank back in an easy chair, to grapple with a now peculiar problem. -Should Gabrielle be permitted to live in this world of spiritual -essences, and apparitions any longer?</p> - -<p>I think that I was not disinclined to live in it myself, but with -me the material stringency of affairs was unmistakable, and I did, -spasmodically at least, revolt against this extreme spiritualism. I -hunted along my book-shelves, and found the Martian book, and chasing -through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> its pages I stopped at this incomprehensible passage:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"For when the life of the body ceases and the body itself is burned -and its ashes scattered to the winds and waves, the infinitesimal, -imponderable, and indestructible something we call the soul is -known to lose itself in a sunbeam and make for the sun, with all -its memories about it, that it may then receive further development -fitting it for other systems altogether beyond conception."</p></blockquote> - -<p>And then came the intolerable fancy of these Martian souls getting into -the bodies of animals, and into men and women, and how the particular -Martia influenced the divine Englishman, and made him write wonderful -transforming books, and he thought of a life</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"where arabesques of artificial light and interwoven curves of subtle -sound had a significance undreamt of by mortal eyes or ears, and -served as conductors to a heavenly bliss unknown to earth."</p></blockquote> - -<p>I fell into a stupor of meditation. Might not Blanchette do such things -for me? Her image sprang to my eyes, her voice sounded in my ears, -her arms embraced me, the very fragrance of her person enchanted my -nostrils, and then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> as the stupor passed, and the dying day sent the -broad beams of the sun full into my face, I rose, and, feeling with -a sudden particularity of certitude, the absolute hopelessness of -fancies, of dreams, of anything but <i>work</i>, with my own life broken -at its very beginning, and the overshadowing pall of an unforgettable -disaster shrouding it from corner to corner, I sank to my couch, and, -stretched along its length, wept bitterly.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></p> - -<p class="center">GABRIELLE'S SEANCE</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">It</span> was only a few minutes later that, shaking off the dreary -sluggishness of my grief, I started out of the house for a brisk walk. -Down through the village, out into the broad highway towards Briois, -where the Diligence from Paris then shot past me, with salutations -shouted from its windows, and handkerchiefs waved from its Imperial and -still on, along the fields growing verdant, while the warm tremulous -air, with its procreative touch, unclasped the glutinous envelopes of -the buds in the alders and poplars, and afar towards Bienne, and the -ruined chateau, the massed background of the walled forests spanned the -horizon with a palpitating purple haze, as of an arrested atmosphere or -emanation, and in the very zenith above me a creamy rosiness, like an -etherial colored lymph, dripped from cloudlet to cloudlet.</p> - -<p>How wonderfully beautiful it all was; its tenderness, the auroral -lights of the sky, and the definite joy of the returning life; it -renewed my courage, rather it put to flight the dull meanness of -sottish fears and regrets. The verses of —— came to my mind, and -aloud,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> on the straight road that was now darkening, as the day fled -to the empyrean, and thence must fly over the great ocean to the -wonderland of America, I repeated them:</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>O renouveau! Soleil! Tout palpite, tout vibre</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Tout rayonne, et J'ai dit, ouvrant la main; "Sois libre,"</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>L'oiseau s'est évadé dans les rameaux flottants,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Et dans l'immensité splendide du printemps;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Et J'ai vu s'en aller au loin la petite âme</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Dans cette clarté rose ou se mêle une flamme,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Dans l'air profond, parmi les arbres infinis,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Volant au vague appel des amours et des nids,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Planant éperdument vers d'autres ailes blanches,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Ne sachant quel palais choisir, courant aux branches,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Aux fleurs, aux flots, aux bois, fraîchement reverdis,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Avec l'effarement d'entrer au paradis....</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Alors, dans la lumière et dans la transparence,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Regardant cette fuite et cette deliverance,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Et ce pauvre être, ainsi disparu dans le port,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Pensif, je me suis dit: "Je viens d'être la morte."</i></span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Then my thoughts reverted to the strange things Gabrielle had told -me, to the mysterious experience she promised to lead me through, -<i>that night</i>, and, as the stars stole one by one timorously out of the -filmy shadows of the east, into the grey dark sky, I speculated on -our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> relations with the unseen, and whether we might be so attuned, -as Gabrielle seemed to be, to respond and feel that numerous company, -and their thoughts, and wishes, their influences, and their designs? I -knew, everyone knows, that the scale of sound runs beyond the coarse -mechanism of our ears at either end of the gamut, as indeed there are -rays of light which our eyes do not catch in the ultra-violet end of -the spectrum. Could it be that actually we are immersed in a vast -ocean of spiritualized animation, which we cannot apprehend—most of -us—which touches us on every side, and is yet as unapproachable as the -stars I was looking at, but, unlike the stars, is not even suspected.</p> - -<p>But perhaps—so I mused—there were hierophants, translators of its -mysteries, souls enriched with some finer sense, who felt it, saw it, -or, like pulsating membranes that record the varying pressure of the -air, were so marvellously made as to feel its pressure too. They were -pendulums, swinging in two worlds, and passing from one to the other, -as one might pass from darkness to light, from discord to harmony, -from confusion to order, from the apparent and back again to the real. -Of these was Gabrielle. Or they were doorways, windows, passages, -that afforded access to us, the corporeal prisoners of the earth, -through which they came back—<i>les revenants</i>—when they too dearly -loved us to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> find even happiness in their new abode unless they might -occasionally regain our company. Ah could it be so with Blanchette! And -then the queer book of Du Maurier's (that was the name of the English -artist who wrote it) came into my head, and the impossible fancy of the -Martian woman living in the body or the brain of Barty Joselin, and the -death of the girl Marty who had become the second home of the beautiful -demon woman—the Martian sprite.</p> - -<p>I half wondered whether Blanchette could come and tenant my own body, -with me, or was she inhabiting Gabrielle? Ah—<i>la folie</i>—but should -I indeed see her tonight? I hurried along the familiar road, now in -a growing tempest and terror of mind, almost with, I cannot describe -it, a queer sense of disembodiment, as if I, myself, were not in my -flesh and blood, but some ghost of myself, with an engagement to meet -the ghost I had loved—and yet loved. Thus I hastened backward in the -night, and entered my home, where the lights burned most cheerfully, -and found my parents and sister waiting for me, and Hortense—still -with us, with her flagging energies helped out by a pretty brunette -waitress Gabrielle had brought from Paris—impatient, at the table, for -our evening repast.</p> - -<p>"Alfred, we have been waiting for you. Tonight your mother and myself -must go to Briois.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> There is to be a meeting there of the Protestant -Union, and I am expected to say something on the needs of our -country-side for religious instruction. I hope to be able to bring -about the building of a little church where our people may have the -consolations of their religion;" it was my father speaking.</p> - -<p>"Ah pardon, I <i>am</i> late, but the night is heavenly, and the spring -comes on divinely. I have been just now towards Briois, and I could -have walked, I think, on to La Ferté without fatigue. My legs do -improve in these pleasant days, and the warmth stirs my blood. I am -glad, father, you will have a church. Are you sure it is best to build -it in St. Choiseul?" I answered.</p> - -<p>"Why not, Alfred?" asked mother.</p> - -<p>"Well there are not so many here who would need it and <i>pas d'abeilles -pas de miel;</i>" I said laughing.</p> - -<p>"But, Alfred, we are to have a new visitor to live with us in -St. Choiseul, a rich man from Bordeaux, who is a leader of our -congregations there. He is too what the English call, an exhorter, <i>un -homme qui exhorte</i>; very eloquent, a great preacher in his way. If the -church is built in our village he will help us, and then it might be -that he will be willing to be our pastor too. He is a relative of <i>le -Capitaine</i>, and now he has suffered a great sorrow. His daughter—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>the -apple of his eye—died on the same day that Blanchette left us, <i>nous -laissait</i>. The captain begged him to come to St. Choiseul, and he -consented. It will be good for the captain, good for St. Choiseul—good -for all of us. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, mother," said Gabrielle, and she leaned towards her with her -gentle smile of reassurance—there had been growing between sister and -myself, and our parents, since Blanchette's death, a severer feeling of -religious estrangement—"It <i>will</i> be good. I have heard Père Grandin. -I heard him in the wards of the hospital, and he is a good man, -<i>parlant le plus beau? français avec une voix délicieuse</i>."</p> - -<p>Mother and father were delighted; it was a great surprise, and during -our evening meal we talked of nothing else than the coming of Père -Grandin. They asked Gabrielle about him with an increasing pleasure, -as they saw how really admiring sister was of the excellent man's -skill and sweetness. It was a pleasant time, and in the domestic glow -of confidence, that the Père Grandin would become an instrument of -propitiation, rather than of discord, while Julie placed before us one -of Hortense's masterpieces—<i>chefs d'oeuvres</i>—<i>le ragout de mouton</i>, -with garnishments of peppers and haricots, with her hot cakes—<i>pains -de seigle</i>—and the melting <i>chou-fleur</i> and the inspiriting Burgundy, -we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> bloomed, so to say, into a renewed affection. It was admirable. I -recall it—shall I ever forget that wondrous night?—almost as if it -had been a moment ago. I was soothed and quieted, and the rising frenzy -of my blood subsided, and a most ingratiating blissfulness invaded me, -and we lingered long at the table. Gabrielle was so gay and reminiscent -it seemed as if she loved the hospital, now she was well free of it, -and, as I listened in astonishment, I slowly realized that Gabrielle -was responding to some hidden elation, and that—Was it her ecstacy -to show me her strange power? Ah, yes, there was, too, her gladness -that mother and father were to be away that night, and so—<i>Voila, la -diablerie sans bornes!</i> Bah, I will confess I was displeased, and felt -a little disgusted amazement at Gabrielle.</p> - -<p>An hour later our parents were tucked in the cabriolet, the short -snapping strokes of the horse's hoofs passed away into silence, and -Gabrielle and I were alone. We faced each other as the door closed, -and Gabrielle seized my arm, and speaking very slowly, with her face -covered by her other hand, with all her late show of spirits vanished, -said:</p> - -<p>"Alfred, I feel the power; it thrills me. I cannot explain, but as the -time comes on, I am crowded with a multitude—<i>un essaim</i>—of motions -within me, as if I might be slowly dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>solved into air, or something -else light and floating. You thought that I was careless at dinner. -I know, I watched your eyes. You thought I was glad that father and -mother were going away, so that I could show you my power when I call -Blanchette (I shuddered) back to meet you. But that was not true. I -felt disengaged and well, most well, and my heart was contented. There -was no deception, no guiltiness as of escaping detection. None, I was -myself, that was all. And Alfred I shall <i>tell</i> father and mother. Why -not?" at my gesture of discouragement.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, promise me you will reveal nothing about this to anyone, -until I have consented. Remember—<i>the Hospital</i>. Father and mother -will be appalled. They cannot understand as I do your mysticism—and -then, who knows what the power leads to? Be silent."</p> - -<p>My sister lifted her face, and stared almost stealthily into my -eyes. I, the <i>soi-disant</i> critic of her "delusions"—that was my -word, was now masking her concealment, and urging her to continued -secrecy, intending—what did she think?—to use her potency for the -gratification of my mad cravings?—to make her the servile means of -communication with Blanchette, more and more, that thus my awakened -desires might be stilled with the apparitional image of possession?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<p>I did not answer the mute question. I could not. An unopposed, a sudden -quenchless need of Blanchette, frustrated all honesty of speech, -and I really caught at, snatched, the proffered chance—<i>diablerie</i> -or no <i>diablerie</i>—to see again the face, the form, the flesh—Was -it indeed materialization as the mediumistic parlance had it?—of -Blanchette. The more I thought of it, the more I coveted the vision. -Its quality should be tested. That I swore. And my connivance became -more cautious. We would try nothing, until Hortense and Julie had -retired. A sudden tension of almost ravenous expectancy rose within me, -utterly surprising, and <i>now</i>, I was the exhilarator, and prompter, -and accomplice, more desirous, more credulous, than Gabrielle herself. -The delay for <i>the thing</i> to begin seemed insufferable, but there must -be no interruption, and the sceptic, the half believer, the moderating -protestant, at the unreasonableness and danger of the indulgence, -moved now in its preparation with an unresisting acceptance of its -realization, hungry for its fulfillment, every scruple banished!</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, go to your room. We will not begin until Hortense and -Julie have gone to bed; then, when the house is all ours," my voice -was strained and unnatural, and perhaps my features were themselves -distorted with excitement, for Gabrielle slightly withdrew from me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> -"then, let us go to the library, and there we will unite our minds and -hearts, and—<i>bring Blanchette back</i>!"</p> - -<p>Only a violent self-control withheld my tongue from shouting the -words, so monstrously grew within me the insatiable passion for -the coveted design, a passion, half orgiastic, half a maddened -curiosity, and within which, I know now, not a trace of spiritual -feeling, or aspirations, or tenderness, or beauty, reigned, or had a -part. So variously are we composed, and thus from the waters of our -souls, when stirred, or clouded, darkened by the overturning prods -of the rebellious body, which disturb its slimy sediments, rise -the exhalations of unworthy motives. In that instant, as I waited -afterwards for the hour agreed upon for our nocturnal incantations—the -word suits the debased frame of my mind—just one overpowering -conception ruled my heart, the possibility of clasping Blanchette to -my breast as a physical presentment. Whither had flown the beautiful -boundless dreams of our beatific, immaterial union, bathed in the -everlasting lights of celestial choirs? Alas—whither?</p> - -<p>It was about eleven o'clock, when Gabrielle tapped at the door between -our rooms, and I opened it. Gabrielle had changed her dress somewhat. -She had put on a dark serge gown that fitted quite closely, and she had -opened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> the waist at the throat slightly, and discarded all collar. The -sleeves closed about the wrists; in her hair, loosely piled up above -her temples, were three silver combs, and they formed the only light -touch in her apparel. We both wore slippers, as almost instinctively -the association of lightness and noiselessness with the work in hand -came to my mind. We said nothing, but passed out of my room, and -stepped swiftly down the stairway to the library. I glanced out of -the window hastily, and found the sky clear, mistily studded with the -stars, and with strips of cloud strung along the western limits of the -firmament.</p> - -<p>Gabrielle asked me to light the lamp for a minute's instruction; -otherwise we would proceed in complete darkness; that she averred was -best. I lit the lamp, and was a little disturbed by Gabrielle's pallor -which in the yellow light of the lamp appeared deathly. I asked her if -she felt unwell. She smiled and said, "No, not at all," and then she -motioned me to a seat near her, at the centre of the room, where she -had chosen a chair, quite detached from any other article of furniture. -Behind her were simply the unillumined corners of the apartment. I sat -down and waited for her instructions, which however I fully understood -as the manner of this seance had been in words rehearsed between us.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Alfred, take my hands in your own, and bend your forehead forward upon -my knees, and then just THINK of Blanchette, and remain so, no matter -how long it seems. When the soul of Blanchette comes it will be light, -but do not release my hands."</p> - -<p>I recall the absolute precision of certainty in Gabrielle's words, -in her voice, and then that she leaned back, shut her eyes, and just -perceptibly drew her shoulders upward, while her lips moved as if in -prayer. I put out the light. I pressed her hands in mine; they were -supremely warm, and soft, and unresisting, and then I knelt and bowed -my head and—endowed, as I have in this narrative many times intimated, -some visualizing or occult force—brought to my eyes the very figure, -color, expression, and voice of the dead girl. It was not so much a -feeling of solemnity—that does not express it at all—as a feeling -of mystery, of indefinite approach towards the incredible, with the -mingled half delirious anticipations in myself of actually again seeing -the live Blanchette, that held me rigid.</p> - -<p>At length Gabrielle's fingers twitched slightly, and she half -released them, but I held them tightly, and then Gabrielle seemed to -be murmuring aloud. I still held my face downwards, forcing to my -eyes the image of Blanchette, recalling her voice, and straining my -mind out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>ward as it were, in my effort to impress all of this upon -Gabrielle. The voice of my sister grew slightly louder, and the words -were at intervals coherent and intelligible, and then I lifted my head.</p> - -<p>At first I could see nothing but soon I became conscious of some -diffused light or glow, a kind of absorbed brightness, as if it -escaped from the darkness itself, perhaps faintly bluish. It arrested -my attention, and the thought of Blanchette died away as I actually -saw the brightness increase around me. It was a strange indescribable -light. It was not only seen by the eyes; it was felt by the mind, -if I may put it that way. Looking more cautiously and intently it -became evident that it lay in lines proceeding through the blackness -of the room, from a point somewhere at our side, and it still grew -slowly stronger, with a soft interior palpitation, as if the source -of the emanations pulsed regularly, sending out the luminous streams -in waves. With this increasing intensity—though intensity hardly -expresses it, it was so vaguely dispersed and yet obviously confined in -radial directions—with the increasing intensity, the mental influence -deepened also, and it was only by a supreme effort that I retained my -position.</p> - -<p>The inclination with me was to allow myself to float, from the -unmistakable sense of buoyancy that invaded all my body, and with -that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> came to my sensorium a most peculiar incomputable sensation of -diffusion. I cannot put it into words. It felt like a dissolution, -as if the material substance of which I was composed were undergoing -dispersion or extension, and the solvent was this strengthening light. -But the sensation was also peculiarly delightful so that, while you -felt yourself as it were vanishing, there was no sickness of fear with -it, nor any, the slightest, physical resistance. I feel certain it was -the prelude to unconsciousness. Some residual wakefulness, springing -from my curiosity, saved me from the invited surrender, and I slowly -rose to my feet, still holding Gabrielle's hands.</p> - -<p>Then I looked at my sister, and, so it seemed, in that gloom there had -developed around her head a half nebulous curtain or aureole of light -also, which, in its turn, was emitting the peculiar light beams. It was -at that moment I dropped her hands, that had become almost lifeless to -my feeling. In an instant the previous sense of dematerialization left -me, and with a shock, absurdly like the flying back of widely distended -or separated limbs, I became keenly conscious, and concretely centered. -I remember the faint thrill of amusement that this <i>réassemblage</i> -caused to me. And now—there was not much desire on my part to be -ratiocinative—the other point, the emergent initial centre of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> the -emanations grew, not only brighter, but greatly larger, and I divined -with a sudden consternation of heart, that there were forming before me -the outlines of a human figure. I shrank backward for an instant, and -for an instant only, and then bent forward and moved forward with the -increasing light, for now the adjutant centres—that about the evolving -apparition, and that around my sister—both increased, filling my eyes -with the radiance, and yet administering no particular illumination to -the objects in the room. These latter were perhaps more visible than -they had been. That I think was incontestable, but the light might have -been described as self-centered, in this sense, that it was entirely -refluent on its source and confined in its illuminating effect to that.</p> - -<p>And now—I lost sight of everything else, so concentrated was my -thought upon the spectacle—the light to the side and in the depth -of the room expanded rapidly, and the shape that it made was that -of a naked phosphorescent figure, whose configuration, while it was -discerned, was not really revealed, so bathed it seemed to be in the -billowy light that encumbered it, and yet exposed it. Only the arms -of the figure escaped that luminous envelope, and, stretching outward -beyond it, put on the semblance of white flesh. I put my hand to my -head. It was wet with the dew of perspiration,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> that may have been the -sweat of amazement, or of excitement.</p> - -<p>The intention so dearly formed of seizing my restored Blanchette -died away before this immaculate phenomenon, for in it there dawned -no reminiscence of the earthly charm I had called by that name. -That loveliness whose perishable garb of color and of matter I had -worshipped was not suggested here; the showery lightness that seemed -tremulous with a thousand interior responses had its wonderfulness -indeed, but it only left me wonder-stricken. Neither did it appall me. -I became chilled into immobility, although every nerve was shaking -with the impressed realization of a miracle. I was standing before the -resurrected DEAD.</p> - -<p>Whether it was this thought or the resuscitated passion of my -heart, rebelling against the incandescent splendor, I do not know, -but I suddenly stepped towards the scintillating object and spoke: -"Blanchette! Blanchette! Blanchette!" My voice was instinct with the -note of human passion, the earthly cry of love for the reality of -warmth, and softness, and breath, and fragrance, the concomitants of -the living body—and, as my words were repeated, and again repeated, -and my arms were outstretched, while my face, bathed in the sepulchral -light, perhaps might have showed my yearning, this marvellous and -stupendous reality occurred:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> - -<p>The phosphorescent configuration with the extended arms grew paler -and paler, and as its extreme blurry splendor died away, there sprang -forward from within it, the real similitude of Blanchette, a pallid -figure of light, and in it the dear face of the girl, tender, divinely, -to my eyes, beautiful, with now a compassionate wistfulness of -prettiness, O! so faintly expressed, in the dim radiance that seemed -yet to stream with undulous waves through the room from the relaxed, -motionless body of my sister. And—so it appeared to me—the figure -advanced towards me with the same outstretched arms, with which I -leaped forward to receive it.</p> - -<p>I clasped the empty air and fell headlong in a convulsion, that rattled -my very bones, while sharp strokes of pain severed my muscles, and -throbs, like the intermittent knocks of a hammer, beat within my brain. -It was an utterly unnatural collapse; the strained attitude of the -last few hours, with the previous anticipation—unsuspectingly untying -the resistance of my nerves—did not clearly explain it. There was -something else. I was still quite conscious and, more than that, I was -wrathful with disappointment, as if caught in a trick of deception, the -hocus-pocus of a mere <i>niaiserie</i>. My eyes watched the faded spot of -light from which the transfiguration had started. It actually flitted -unevenly for some moments over my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> fallen body, and then it moved -slowly—now contracted into a mere ball of luminosity—towards my yet -unawakened sister. There it increased in brilliancy, and the former -glowing outline, with the resumed extended arms, reappeared, and then -came the last denouement. In an instant there was a flashing collision -between the light of the vision and the light, seemingly emitted by my -sister, when the entire room became vivid with light—everything seen, -with absolutely nothing there but my sister and myself, and then the -darkness again more profound by contrast, and swimming—the word is -exactly descriptive—upward, and then sideways a ball, a mere star, of -brightness, sparkled for one second in the fire-place, and vanished.</p> - -<p>There was no sound, there had not been an audible word, and now there -was the undisturbed apartment with myself spread out in pain on the -floor, and my sister still in her unbroken trance. I struggled to my -feet and seized Gabrielle's hands and drew her up. She awoke, dazed, -and also in pain, standing at my side in a benumbed speechless way -that startled me. I lit the lamp hurriedly, and led her to the couch, -where she again fell into unconsciousness. I chafed her hands. I wet -her temples. Finally she slowly responded to the treatment, and I was -able to lead her to her room. She had by that time become normal,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> but -reticent and oppressed, and begged me to leave. I went away.</p> - -<p>My own distress lasted some hours, but slowly improved, the jolts -of pain growing less, and at longer intervals, and succumbing to my -complete restoration.</p> - -<p>The next day found Gabrielle and myself talking in the garden at the -same spot where we had conceived of the seance; we had both been almost -feverishly waiting the opportunity to rehearse our experience. We met -almost as if by agreement, walking down the garden, on opposite sides -at the same time, as to a <i>rendez-vous</i>.</p> - -<p>I related everything to Gabrielle as I had seen it, and asked her about -her own experience. I said, "Gabrielle, I think that it is best not to -indulge this power of yours any longer. It was a disappointment every -way, and the results only unhealthy and stupid."</p> - -<p>"Alfred," she replied, "I have often brought back the spirits of the -dead, not by my own will but because they came to me willingly, and it -has never hurt me. It seemed a delight rather, and the sensations were -blissful. But it was all different last night. It was spoiled somehow. -There was some discord, something improper in our thoughts—<i>in yours</i>, -<i>Alfred</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, just what happened to yourself, when you fell away in the -trance?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I seemed to be rising upward on wings, with sunny lights shining upon -me, and the endless shimmering of spirit bodies about me, and then came -a darkness with a despairing feeling of loneliness and of desertion, -and then a slow, consuming pain until you waked me."</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, have you ever actually seen the spirits? Were they, as the -jargon goes, materialized before your eyes?"</p> - -<p>"Not exactly, perhaps. They came to me in my sleep, but I have -indeed—so it seems to me—awakened and found the air about me filled -with shapes. They did not last, wavering away with swingings this way -and that, but their faces smiled as they went off, and a low pleasant -light remained; that too gently—<i>doucement</i>—fading away."</p> - -<p>We walked slowly back again towards the house, quite silent. I, buried -in a reverie of self-dissatisfaction, Gabrielle doubtless in one of -afflicted wonder. At length I said, stopping abruptly, and turning -Gabrielle towards me, as I often did, with my two hands clasping her -shoulders, "Gabrielle, let us agree to banish these practices. It may -cost you an effort, but I believe it is best for both of us. We shall -lose our wits with these devilments." Gabrielle resented that, and her -face showed her protest. "Well, not that exactly," I added quickly, -"let us call them illusions. Some scientific wiseacres<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> call them -<i>hypnagogic</i> illusions. It is not altogether normal and reasonable -and—" I hesitated a moment, and Gabrielle added, "You mean improper, -unhealthy, unsafe?"</p> - -<p>"Yes I mean all that, and then I think by some occultism we cannot -define, or even recognize, they will torment us, and actually drag us -into lunacy."</p> - -<p>"Alfred, did you see Blanchette?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes, I saw something that brought her distinctly before me for an -instant—but, Gabrielle," I was ashamed to betray my hope for some sort -of bodily incarnation, "it was only a madness of the brain—only that."</p> - -<p>"But, Alfred, you did see the light; they always come in -light-clouds—<i>les voiles de lumière</i>."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, I saw the shining figure—so it seemed—and the light, -Gabrielle, that seemed to stream from your head in rays. All -that I saw, but whether it was an actual light, or some infernal -hallucination, or just some mesmeric phenomena, and we both were -asleep, I fear to say. But it has left me queerly disgusted and -upset. At any rate I will have nothing more to do with it—nothing. -My work (Redaction of the Code Législatif for Court Practice) will -be interfered with, and then perhaps my poor brain will leave me -altogether."</p> - -<p>We laughed, and at length Gabrielle answered, liberating herself from -my hold and musing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>ly watching the sparrows twittering and flying -spasmodically in swarms from the thicketed ampelopsis on the house. Her -voice was low, and its accent firm, and half persuasive too.</p> - -<p>"Alfred, I will go half way. I will do nothing to bring back the -visions, but if they come I shall not scare them away. And as for -séances—well, we both have had all we want of them. Eh?"</p> - -<p>"Truly Gabrielle, I think that if we continued these visitations, if -they are that, it would be with us as it was with Argan in <i>Le Malade -Imaginaire</i>, who was threatened by Dr. Purgan, you know, after a long -line of disorders, <i>avec la privation de la vie, ou nous aura conduit -notre folie</i>."</p> - -<p>I never again spoke about the spirits to Gabrielle. I grew strangely -fearful of them, the thought of them made me shudder—until the war -brought upon us the awful visitation that I have written this book to -describe, and which—Well, what it did is now the common knowledge of -the world. Nor did Gabrielle allude to them until the gathering terrors -of the dead broke her silence. And to describe that moment and its -undreamed of marvels, its vast resurrections from the holocausts of -the battle fields, the fathomless panorama of the endless dead, with -the stupefying and convulsing climax of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> horrid warfare, choked by -their immitigable hosts, is now my dangerous and difficult task.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Father and mother returned from Briois most radiant over their success. -Père Grandin was superb, a wonderful man, <i>un homme de sagesse, de -piété, et, ma Foi, un homme des affaires; enfin, un homme eloquent et -fin aussi</i>. He would come to St. Choiseul, and it was certain that Père -Grandin and Père Antoine would get on well together.</p> - -<p>The spring was all about us; each day added to the charm of the -country-side and the gardens of St. Choiseul grew gayer and gayer with -the snowy and carmine splendor of the tulips, the purple glories of the -hyacinth, the blossoming trails of periwinkle, leading at last to the -zenith loveliness of the blushing roses, when St. Choiseul sent its -fragrant breath far and wide over the green meadows, and far into the -thick-set and shadowed woods.</p> - -<p>The <i>bienséance</i> of nature was seen too in the overflowing happiness -of the country, its peace and increasing wealth, with the flow towards -it of the gracious friendliness of the peoples, and the establishment -among us of the pure principles of liberty. Indeed we were all gay. -Privat Deschat's hideous predictions that evening so long ago—how long -ago it indeed seemed, as if in another age; that was before I went -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> America—were all forgotten, or if recalled just laughed at—and -yet there had been the Agadir affair and there had been disturbances -in Alsace and cruel muttering elsewhere; the Cassagnac matter and -the German correspondents. But that was nothing—<i>une bagatelle -simplement</i>—and so the bright years rolled along, braided with -delights, illustrious with hopes, serene with gifts, not altogether -free from acquiescent tears, while the inevitable CALAMITY came closer -and closer, and like a thunderbolt crashed suddenly from the peaceful -skies, and darkened all the world with its despair and misery.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></p> - -<p class="center">THE WAR</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">Père Grandin</span> very soon became a favorite, and not the least devoted of -his friends was Père Antoine, our village priest. The temper of the -two men was most congenial, and the fervor of their love of goodness, -their common age, a certain sweet complacency in the joyousness of life -and in the complete mercy of God, wedded them to each other, and so -into our intimate circle of friends Père Antoine, through the mediation -of Père Grandin was joined, and both father and mother thus grew more -sympathetic and permissive with Gabrielle and myself, and the days -flowed smoothly, and the years followed each other joyously.</p> - -<p>I became more and more interested in the work I had undertaken, and, -under the pressure of its laborious needs, with frequent visits to -Paris, found my time admirably occupied, while I was not too busy to -omit the recreations of the home life with our friends. Above all -caressed by my dear sister, whose companionship I now more and more -delighted in, I was growing, perhaps by a premature decline of animal -spirits, into a bachelor, whose inmost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> heart still kept unimpaired -the image and hope of his first love. That indeed dwelt with me -perpetually, and by the platonic resuscitation of its enjoyment -administered literally to my physical contentment.</p> - -<p>There was in my library an English book written by an American -authoress in which I came upon this sentence (the book was sent to me -by a Texan acquaintance after I had left America): "there were hours -when she felt that any bitter personal past—that the recollection -of a single despairing kiss or a blighted love would have filled her -days with happiness. What she craved was the conscious dignity of a -broken heart—some lofty memory that she might rest upon in her hour of -weakness."</p> - -<p>The philosophy and the psychology of the paragraph are profoundly true. -That relationship which sex seems inexorably to claim is satisfied -naturally by union, but its omission finds exoneration at least in the -remembrance of disappointment. I grew with each succeeding year more -and more sedately complacent, and a gravity of thought, deepened by a -pleasant melancholy, mingled with the real consolations of religion and -the inseparable charm of my sister and kept me composed and evenly—at -times almost jubilantly—happy. My work was attracting some attention, -and it promised for me continued and congenial employment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> - -<p>We had many garden parties with Privat Deschat and Capitaine -Bleu-Pistache—growing more feeble now, more silent, with often -unbidden tears springing to his eyes—and Quintado and Père Grandin and -Père Antoine—though he was not so often with us—and the sweet-voiced -and sparkling little orphan girl the captain had adopted—Dora Destin, -a vivacious creature with delicate ways and a keen appetite for tarts -and pastry, and a peculiar shyness that came and went so oddly, that -one instant she might be hiding, as if afraid, and the next leaping -amongst us like a bird. Mother and father had become in the later -years even graver, and a calmness—I dreaded to believe that it meant -some interior failing—descended upon them, that made their ways a -little embarrassing at times. We all noted it. It was a presage, a -shadow. They were silent in company, and once or twice, I thought—this -was just a year before the War—father seemed unconscious of his -surroundings; his mind wandered and he kept saying "<i>Alfred</i>, <i>Alfred</i>" -to me, as if dazed or grieved. The stealthy hand of Paralysis thus -crept slowly forward towards its unescapable conclusion.</p> - -<p>Of course Gabrielle was in our parties, and she had become to me the -concentrated bliss of my living. Her growth into a healthier condition -of mind and body had accompanied an increasing adaptability to company, -and while the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> reserved manner remained, bestowing upon her a fine -dignity, she was truly sociable and friendly. Gabrielle never quite -outgrew the secretive habit of her thoughtfulness, and her deportment -had been criticized and found fault with, as cold and austere. The -inference would have been cruelly unjust, for never breathed a kinder -and more devotedly good heart than my sister possessed. Her abstracted -way often arose from the custom of religious meditation, and I suppose -too was influenced by that singular supernatural—to call it so—power -that she always felt, but now, so far as I knew, seldom exercised. It -was that power that made of her the MEDIATRIX of the nations.</p> - -<p>It was hardly fifteen years after my return that the Grown Prince of -Austria was shot in Sarajevo in Serbia, and that was on the day of -the <i>Grand Prix de Paris</i>. I read the news to Gabrielle, and Père -Grandin was there. He had taken dinner with us. How well I remember his -terror-stricken face. He pushed his spectacles up over his high white -forehead, and his bright eyes glowed strangely with a growing fear. His -expressive lips twitched almost as if he were in pain, and he lifted up -his hands in protestation.</p> - -<p>"God forbid. The blow has fallen then. The bolt shot. Alfred, this is -the torch that starts the conflagration. The material—all inflammable, -all explosive—has been heaped up between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> the nations, and, like a -fierce <i>feu-de-joie</i> it will kindle into a wall of fire—<i>un rideau de -feu</i>—between the countries. God save France!"</p> - -<p>I was incredulous as were at the time most people. I laughed at -the good man's warning, and because he felt half grieved at my -carelessness, half stifled with apprehension as if almost—so he put -it—his ears were filling already with the rumble of cannon, he begged -our pardon for his distress. He put on his crumpled Panama hat and -stood at the doorway, almost irresolute in his trepidation and sadness. -He looked at me quite long.</p> - -<p>I recall the moon riding high in white drifting vapors that came in -from Calais—and in the changing light and shade he seemed almost -preternaturally pale and sombre.</p> - -<p>"<i>Mon patrie</i>," he sighed, "again the ravage, the desolation, the -orphaned, the widowed, the crippled, the sick, the breaking hearts—Ah, -Ah—" and seizing my hands as if in support in his agitation, he wept.</p> - -<p>"But Père Grandin" I said, now thoroughly alarmed over his evident -agony, "surely you are too quick, too hasty. Europe is at peace. Its -people are reasonably happy. They will not permit war, and—"</p> - -<p>I got no further. The old man was choking with emotion—it was half -wrath, half despair.</p> - -<p>"Permit it? Can they stop it? Do they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> govern? Is it not kings and -princes and royal houses and titled ministers, the tyrants of opinion, -the caprice or the pride or the selfishness of aristocrats, that -control everything?</p> - -<p>"See, they prance by us, unseeing, unthoughtful, just living for -themselves, and then when the crash comes—the crash they have prepared -with their silly talk of national honor, national enlargement, national -continuity, racial union, destiny, putting over it all a gorgeous -light of promised glory—just as the heroes in a stage play walk and -stand in the glare of the electric lantern from the gallery, uttering -bombast—when the crash comes, they summon the troops, they dragoon -the people, they empty the banks, they crack the whip of urgency, and, -pointing to the flag, drive us in hecatombs to death.</p> - -<p>"No, no, Alfred—the war will come. I have long felt its growing -tremors. We cultivate revenge in our hearts, the Germans cultivate -hate, the Cossacks conquest, the Austrians dynasty, the Englishmen -trade-money, their assumed preeminence, and there have been cabals -and understandings, and a jolt snaps the artifice of our pretended -brotherhood and, with hoof and claw, we fly at each other's throats. -Bah—<i>vous verrez</i>."</p> - -<p>His rage had restored his strength, and he stumbled away muttering and -gesticulating. I watched him going across the roadway in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> light -that danced with the swinging lanterns when the night wind from the -distant shores blew more strongly. The disks and outlines of shadows -imparted to him a peculiar effect of unsteadiness. I half thought he -staggered.</p> - -<p>I went back to the library. There I found Gabrielle leaning over the -paper I had flung down at the old man's outburst, and reading of the -assassination. She looked up as I returned, and her face was white, and -in her eyes too I saw an awful consternation. I was impatient with this -foolishness, and expostulated loudly.</p> - -<p>"What, Gabrielle, are you too imbecile? Père Grandin is in a panic. -Why? He sees us fighting already—just because the heir to a crown is -shot. It's absurd—<i>pas vraisemblable</i>."</p> - -<p>"Alfred, I think we should not be too sure. It all looks bad to me, -and—if it comes. What?"</p> - -<p>Her eyes dilated with terror.</p> - -<p>"Why, Gabrielle, have we not prepared ourselves for just this! Besides -we have allies now—it is not as it was in 1870. There is England, -there is Russia. <i>Sacre nom</i>, it will be as when Greek meets Greek—not -<i>comme les vautours et les pigeons</i>."</p> - -<p>"Ah, Alfred, think of the suffering. O! I have seen suffering in the -hospitals, but a whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> nation to be made into one huge hospital. <i>Mon -Dieu, c'est incroyable!</i>"</p> - -<p>"Wait, Gabrielle. Don't borrow trouble. The world cannot afford war -now. <i>La Guerre est un peu passée aujourd'hui. Eh?</i>"</p> - -<p>"Alfred, the devil is never sick, and never tired, and never asleep."</p> - -<p>That night the news was confirmed. Then came Austria's demands; and -then a chasing hither and thither of couriers; the wires hot with -messages; lights in the embassies all night; rage, dismay; in the -cities the people silent or cheering in the streets; houses closed or -hidden in flags; in the ministries forebodings; feverish despatches; -and almost always hopelessness. Peace was impossible; everywhere the -"mailed fist"—<i>poing armée</i>—of the Kaiser. Then came Austria's -declaration of war against Servia on July 29th. The detonation was at -hand which would burst Europe asunder.</p> - -<p>Capitaine Bleu-Pistache asked me to go to Paris at once, so did -Père Grandin, so did Privat Deschat, and although father and mother -seemed listless about it I, thoroughly awake now to the disaster, was -impatient to visit the capital, and see how things were going. But -Gabrielle did not wish me to go.</p> - -<p>"Alfred, is it not best to hear the news here? You cannot enlist. -Alfred you know that is impossible." She suddenly checked herself. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> -knew her thought, and my cheeks grew crimson—my weakness and physical -deficiency now cut me off from service—"No, Alfred it was not that, -not that," her embarrassment brought tears to her eyes. "No not that, -but I am afraid of some danger. Now it is everywhere, an explosion, a -chance shot, a street quarrel. Alfred let me go too."</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle I shall be quite safe. I shall be O! so very timid."</p> - -<p>She smiled.</p> - -<p>"Not so timid alone Alfred, as if I were there too."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense Gabrielle, is it not written, <i>la femme fait le coeur -intrépide</i>. But really it would be very foolish for you to come. Watch -here. I will be so careful."</p> - -<p>She seemed inconsolable, so I promised to write daily.</p> - -<p>Père Grandin wished all the papers sent to him, and the captain, the -pictures, illustrations, prints, anything that would <i>speak</i> rather -than <i>tell</i>—so he put it. And Privat Deschat whispered, "Alfred Lupin, -you remember my prophecy of more than twenty years ago. I have said -nothing about it—<i>rien</i>. But Lupin, if by a chance you can kill a -Dutchman or even come by a dead one bring me his two ears."</p> - -<p>"Privat," I almost shouted, "by all means—but Why?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Alfred," Deschat tossed his big head this side and that as a mastif -might, coming out of the water, "I would dry them hard, tan them, and -wear them as tassels on my smoking cap, <i>mon chapeau de fumée</i>."</p> - -<p>Père Antoine was the last man I saw in St. Choiseul. I left for Briois -in the cabriolet in the evening, and with all of my adieus at home -over I had settled back in my seat, in a gloomy meditation upon the -frightful turn in events, and with some compunctions too over my own -indiscreet skepticism as to its possibility. My face was buried in the -nosegay Gabrielle had pressed into my hands—I see her now standing in -the doorway where the light from the hall flung around her the aureole -of its pale illumination—and my thoughts grew each moment more sombre, -when the carriage was abruptly stopped, and I heard the voice of Père -Antoine speaking to the driver.</p> - -<p>I recognized the father at once, and delightedly welcomed the -interruption; my own sombreness threatened a positive <i>malaise</i>.</p> - -<p>"Father, you here? Step into the carriage. I am on my way to Briois, -and then by train to Paris. My friends—yours too—wanted me to go and -I am impatient to watch things nearer the focus."</p> - -<p>"Ah, my child" answered the benignant man, now seated beside me, "what -new horrors does it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> all mean? I tremble for religion. I know the -sneers that will be flung at FAITH. Where, where, they will cry, is -this merciful GOD?—and as the misery rises, their cry will seem to -have its justification. But surely God is in the storm as well as in -the quiet dawn? If the war really breaks out then it leads to larger -things—all in the scheme and providence of the Almighty."</p> - -<p>"Father we must hope and pray that the worst cannot happen."</p> - -<p>"Yes my son, but we must be also submissive. We must not fix in our -prayers the stubbornness of expectation. What comes we must accept as -the work of God. There can be no reservations in our acknowledgment of -the immediate and uninterrupted immanence of the divine POWER. Let us -simply trust."</p> - -<p>I murmured disheartedly:</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Ici tout meurt, la fleur, l'été,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>La jeunesse et la vie.</i></span><br /> -</p> - -<p>The good man pressed my hands, and as we drew near to the lights in the -station I saw his pained and overflowing eyes.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I came into Paris at the Gare d'Orsay on August first. Mobilization -began the next day and when I reached the Place de l'Opéra crowds of -young men were marching in the streets, cry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>ing, almost shrieking, -"<i>Vive la France</i>." Girls along the balconies and from the windows -showered flowers on them. In other streets groups of young men were -singing the Marseillaise, and waving the flags of France and Russia -and England. It was fiercely exciting, and when at last my eagerness -broke all restraint I joined some of them—my limp was no hindrance -there—and almost forgot my destination, drinking in the elixir of -patriotism for a few delirious moments.</p> - -<p>It was the next day (August third) that I hurried to my -publisher's—Avenue de l'Alma—and found him with his family about him, -disordered in dress, and dismally grave. It was M. Albert Yvette. He -welcomed me with effusion, and resolved to take me to the Chamber of -Deputies where the premier M. Viviani would speak on the situation. -That would be the next day, and for the moment we would go over some -copy as a temporary distraction from the mind-blighting crisis which -had overcome the country. M. Yvette had four sons, two of whom had -already joined the colors, and three exquisite daughters, two young -girls, and the third a married woman, who in this extremity had -united her family with her father's, and added to his own overflowing -<i>famille</i> three boys—<i>joufflus et bruants</i>—so that there was no lack -of excitement; conversation and predictions too.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> - -<p>On August first Jaures the socialist leader had been assassinated, and -yet this monstrous assault failed to arouse national dissension. Yvette -said it was significant. France was as one man and an undivided nation -would frustrate the enemy.</p> - -<p>We all agreed, but the coming test promised to be a severe one. The -news that came in from the advancing Germans was not welcome, and -showed the organization of a powerful attack. Yvette was confident -that even the "spray," as he termed it, of the Teutonic wave would not -reach us. I did not think so. Paris was in danger. Madame Yvette became -tremulous and the daughters were in tears. Then came the news, flashed -through the streets as if by a magnetic sympathy, answering the popular -suspense, that England had declared war upon Germany. This was most -cheering, and the days before France seemed less threatening.</p> - -<p>We attended the session of the Chamber of Deputies. It was inspiring. -The English and Russian ambassadors sat together, and the Chamber -awaited the proceedings in complete silence. A tribute to the dead -socialist Jaures was delivered by M. Paul Deschanel. It was eloquent, -and the resounding shout that greeted the declaration that with France -"there are no more adversaries; there are only Frenchmen," thrilled -everyone present by its vociferous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> unanimity. Then followed the speech -of the Premier M. Viviani, who read his address, punctuated by repeated -cries of "<i>Vive la France</i>," and when he concluded with the phrase, -uttered in a tone of metallic defiance, "We are without reproach. We -shall be without fear," the Chamber went mad, and the walls sent back -the billows of sound, as the air above the heads of the deputies became -white with waving handkerchiefs and papers.</p> - -<p>Yvette was overcome with his feelings, and I led him from the room -trembling with emotion.</p> - -<p>The next day Yvette appeared greatly refreshed, and suggested almost -jocosely that we should together "<i>parcourir la ville</i>." I gladly -assented. I craved this intimacy with the dramatic incidents of the -moment, and was only too anxious to record some vivid impression of the -city under this terrifying menace. That was August sixth, and we walked -or rode all of the day. At night Paris was silent and dark, the streets -almost deserted, and the soldiery watchful.</p> - -<p>The dressmakers and milliners on the Rue de la Paix—the irony of the -name grimly diverted us—were almost all shut up, and the street was a -long dull succession of iron shutters. We saw women on the street cars -(tramways). Along the Boulevard des Capucines our eyes were astonished -by a drove of a hundred cows being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> driven through that avenue; the -papers were sold in immense numbers, and the lively trade in them -brought boys, girls, women, and old men from the suburbs to share in -the momentary activity. Everywhere we saw the momentous enthusiasm and -determination of the people, and any appearance of troops entrained for -the frontier started the wildest applause.</p> - -<p>Paris has been for an instant stunned by the spell of a terrible -apprehension, that quickly succumbed to a returning wave of excited, -indignant, overwhelming patriotism. I felt that the actual danger as a -fear vanished in the tremendous reaction of rage and resolution. Its -industries are crippled, its hilarity suppressed, and the many hued -veil of joy and enjoyment that enveloped it like a cloud, has been torn -aside, only to reveal the underlying hardihood and substance of manhood -and devotion.</p> - -<p>It looked finely, but I could not now shake off the terror of my -mind over the Germanic rush onward. I intuitively felt that their -devastating passage southward from Belgium would stretch far into -France, and if arrested at all must be parried or flung back by -the concentrated energy of the French and English armies, before -its irresistible massiveness assumed such proportions as to become -immovable and impregnable. I began to fear for St. Choiseul, and -was anxious to return. M. Yvette<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> pressed me to remain a few days -longer, and as I had despatched all of my commissions—papers to -Privat Deschat, and pictures to the captain, and letters every day to -Gabrielle and Père Antoine—I assented.</p> - -<p>Each succeeding day manifested the overturn in the domestic and routine -days of the great city. The morning breakfast rolls had gone because -the bakers are with the army, and families are supplied only with -<i>boulot</i> and <i>demi-fendu</i>, but the supply is irregular, and the girls -go after both the bread and the milk. In a hundred ways the national -emergency is felt in the family, apart from the departure of sons, -and the even retinue of service has been disarranged, with amusing -consequences. Lines were formed before the provision shops in the -mornings.</p> - -<p>On August eighth good news was received, and the quickly revived -spirits of the city became apparent in the crowded streets, with a -noticeable resumption of gayety. I went to church, leaving the Yvettes -home. The church was filled to repletion, and there was a large -proportion of men. The service was well rendered, and the preacher -touched upon the one thing uppermost in all minds, and admonished -faith, courage, and prayer. As the congregation emerged from the -portals of the church, the Marseillaise was heard from a near-by -street,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> and, like a spark conveyed to combustibles, the surging mass -broke out with song. It was a convulsion of fervor that made one almost -quail before its immense intensity.</p> - -<p>I took my leave of the Yvettes, who had been charmingly pleasant to -me in their great home, and where the enormous sadness was sensibly -softened by their amiability and courage. That was August fifteenth. -The morning was dark with heavy thunderstorms, and the rain fell -continuously. In the large dining room of the Yvettes, we gathered at -a late breakfast—<i>une affaire de semi-cuisine à midi</i>—and, as the -chandeliers were lighted and candles graced the side-board, and the -mantel, and the high square <i>étagères</i>, it took on the expression of an -"occasion." M. Yvette said it was my valedictory. I hardly knew what he -meant, but this I know, that that was the last time I saw Yvette, or -any of his splendid family. Yvette died at Bordeaux after the official -evacuation of Paris; his two boys were killed at the battle of the -Marne, and then the widow and the unmarried daughters left the mansion -in the Avenue de l'Alma and lived with Madame Aubray, the married -daughter. I have never seen any of them since.</p> - -<p>We all tried to be cheerful, but the incessant marching of troops in -the city during the last three days occurred to some of us as ominous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> -of the encroaching and steadily moving Teuton. The conversation was -most disingenuous, touching upon almost anything but the immediate -preoccupations of our minds, and the apparent social <i>abandon</i> masked -the uneasy sense of danger. The only remark that related to the war -was one by myself, to the purpose that the superbly furnished table -offered no suggestions of the possibility of Paris being starved—which -perhaps under the circumstances was a little <i>maladroit</i>—and the story -that Madame Aubray repeated, that a Prussian officer speaking French -perfectly, among a group of prisoners at Versailles, met some French -reservists, who passed the convoy singing the Marseillaise, and he -turned to his guard and quickly remarked, "<i>What a disillusion awaits -us!</i>"</p> - -<p>M. Yvette accompanied me to the train at the Gare du Nord, and as I -bade him "Farewell," he referred to the familiar and deep impression -made upon everyone of the profound unity of the people, telling me that -the Catholic Abbé Marcadé whose services at Le Bourget had attracted so -much praise, had dined with the officers of the regiment and with the -socialist mayor of the commune. He added, "I tell you, M. Lupin, the -cementation of France is extraordinary. National cohesion has made us -incompressible."</p> - -<p>"Ah," I answered as I stepped into the al<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>most empty train, "remember, -M. Yvette, there is also such a calamity as pulverization."</p> - -<p>My spirits had undergone a complete change since my talk with Père -Grandin, and a gnawing feeling of hopelessness tormented me.</p> - -<p>But how inexpressibly sweet it all was at St. Choiseul, and in the -lovely and beloved country about it, as I walked along the familiar -road from Briois, with the scent of the meadows, slowly ripening and -withering at the summer's close; caught the long glimpses of the white -road—lit now only by the light of the stars—indistinctly heaped, -under the straight poplars, with the falling leaves, and then after the -little stone bridge was passed with the liquid eyes of the stars gazing -up to me as if from depthless nether worlds in the deep pools, I saw -the massed houses of our village with hospitable lights shining from -their windows. The urgent smell of flowers breathed from its walled -gardens, and I prayed aloud that the hand of the destroyer or the cruel -fury of bomb and shell and shrapnel might not invade the entrancing -spot. The fresh odors—roses, heliotrope, verbena—enriched with an -added effluence from the wet ground, bestowed upon the place a sort of -consecration of beauty, peace, and sweetness.</p> - -<p>I passed Privat Deschat's, and there was no light in the upper story -window where he often read late into the night. I instantly caught<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> -sight of our home, where the windows of the library sent out so bright -a light, that as I stood before the gate I could distinguish its -occupants. Lights in other rooms shone out more timidly. The old home -had doubtless gathered our group of friends, and it was an auspicious -moment for me to enter. I raised the knocker and let it fall with a -rub-a-dub-dub that I invariably used. I heard the running footsteps -within, and the door flew open and I fell into the arms of Gabrielle.</p> - -<p>"Alfred, Alfred. How good. O! We are glad to see you. And our friends -are here, and we are all wild with anxiety to know what is being done; -what is happening. Come, come," and the impatient creature pulled me -into the now filled doorway of the library, where one by the other -stood father and mother, Père Antoine, Père Grandin, the captain, and -Privat Deschat, with Dora Destin, the little circle of our intimates, -all peering with wide-open eyes at me as the bearer of new tidings, new -hopes perhaps.</p> - -<p>An embrace of mother and father and of the <i>Capitaine</i>, a hearty -hand-shake of Père Grandin and Père Antoine, of good Privat Deschat, -and an unreluctant kiss from the pretty Dora brought me well into the -room.</p> - -<p>"Where," I said, "is Quintado?"</p> - -<p>"O! Monsieur Lupin," it was the half wailing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> voice of Dora, "He has -gone to the regiment and is on his way to the front."</p> - -<p>I looked intently at the half weeping child, and discovered a budding -romance there.</p> - -<p>"Come, come, Alfred," said the captain. "Tell us everything. Are there -troops enough? Where are the robbers? We hear they are advancing along -by Maubeuge in a broad front."</p> - -<p>"And Alfred," it was the voice of Père Antoine, "the hospitals and the -aids to the injured. Are they in good hands?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Lupin," now it was Père Grandin, "is the Ministry together? -Are we in safe hands under Viviani and Delcassé? Is Paris well guarded, -and how goes the English alliance? Belgium is wiped out. Do the -Russians make headway?"</p> - -<p>I expected to hear next the shrill insistent voice of Privat Deschat, -but as I turned towards him with a smile of interrogation, I saw he had -withdrawn, and was moodily studying the ceiling.</p> - -<p>"Alfred, will our credit be maintained? It is clear that the expense of -the support of the armies, the purchase of stores, of munitions, the -care of the wounded, will be almost ruinous. Does anyone predict how -long the war will last? What are <i>rentes</i> selling at?" It was my father -who put this practical aspect of the case before me.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> - -<p>"But Alfred, what can we do? Everyone must help. Could I nurse? I would -go gladly." I knew that sweet voice and I felt how the devoted heart -which gave it utterance would sacrifice herself to the last atom of her -body in the cause. It was Gabrielle.</p> - -<p>"Alfred, you are hungry and tired. Hortense and Julie have put up -for you a good dinner—the things you like, <i>un ragout de viande -de saucisse avec les pommes de terres et les girofles</i>, all <i>bien -melée</i>." Ah, that was the mother's voice, and there behind her at the -library entrance shone the honest face of Hortense, brimming full of -admiration, and the little curious <i>petite visage</i> of Julie at her -side, also admiring.</p> - -<p>"Come, let us all go together with him in the dining room and sit -around and hear him," said the disconsolate Dora.</p> - -<p>Mother objected to that proposal and so I was whisked off under -apologies, and with the strictest promise that I would be back in as -short a time as possible, and then we would use up the night in talk -and confidences, with mother's red wine and <i>les gateaux aux amandes</i> -to loosen our tongues.</p> - -<p>In our old dining room under the stiff surveillance of our over-painted -ancestors, with mother opposite to me, and Hortense bustling in every -minute, with new contributions of <i>les bonnes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> bouches</i>, I sat enjoying -to the uttermost the good dinner, while I told mother of the Yvettes, -and of Paris, of the soldiers, the anticipated invasion of the Germans, -and how the high and low, the rich and the poor, the learned and the -ignorant, were standing shoulder to shoulder in the immense effort to -preserve <i>la patrie</i>!</p> - -<p>Ah! that was a famous night! How we all talked, and how I rehearsed -all I had seen, all I had heard, all that I thought and, all that -Yvette heard, and saw, and thought too. How defiant was the captain, -how grieving the Père Antoine—who half thought that the threatened -death of the Pope might stop the war!—how impatient Père Grandin, -how attentive and silent was Gabrielle—waiting for them all to go to -besiege me with questions and offers—and how we all became silent, -stifled with a fearful dread, when the invasion of the Huns was thought -of, as reaching St. Choiseul. I argued against that likelihood. The -wish was indeed then the father to the thought.</p> - -<p>"The tide of approach will be more to the north and east, and if the -worst happens before our men can check the deluge, the enemy's hordes -will sweep into the Paris environs directly from the east and north. -Our position north-west of Paris must protect us for some time, but—of -course there are possibilities."</p> - -<p>"It can't be done," the old captain strode<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> into the centre of the -room and swung round to us as he made his point clear. "It can't be -done—<i>c'est impossible</i>. Why? Because with each retreat our armies are -rolled up into thicker lines, and the Germans must broaden their wings -to save themselves from being out-flanked and to protect their lines -of retreat and supply. It can't be done—<i>c'est impossible. Je vous le -dit.</i>"</p> - -<p>Perhaps we were not persuaded—so many things might happen—but we all -felt better by making up our minds that St. Choiseul was rather out of -the path of danger. Then we went over plans to help, and the suggestion -was made by Père Antoine that I speak at the church house, and all of -St. Choiseul and Briois and the country-side around be assembled there, -and a committee be formed, and work started to gather and make material -for the hospitals, the Red Cross missions, and to send gifts and warm -underwear to the camps.</p> - -<p>Now it was surprising, and it gave me an almost unpleasant shock -of disillusionment, that throughout the night Privat Deschat -had said nothing—<i>absolument</i>. Glances fell upon him from the -company, as if his voice in the talk would be welcomed, and yet, -listening with an absorbed earnestness, he "never opened his mouth" -(<i>Americain</i>)—<i>jamais il ouvrait son bouche</i>—and it produced the -disagreeable effect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> of alienation, of indifference. It could not be -believed. Ah—God be blessed—that cloud of doubt was quite dissolved. -About, as the morning sent its streaks of red over the east, and a -fresher scent invaded us from the windows, Privat Deschat stood up -at the corner of the group, where he had been sitting in his, to us, -unfathomable taciturnity, and in a low voice, his big face moving with -unconcealed emotion said these words. It closed our council:</p> - -<p>"You wonder that I have kept silent. It seems to you a treachery. It -is not. I can say but little. I know nothing. My heart beats with -yours, with that of France, but neither your hearts nor the noble -heart of France will force conclusions in this matter. Fate," he cast -a momentary amused glance at Père Antoine, "is not concerned with the -wishes of nations, any more than with the wishes of men and women. But -after all Fate can be COERCED," he spoke the word with a simulated cry -of anguish—it made me start. "Force and Strength and Devotion can -put Fate to flight. You may not believe it, because Fate, or the way -things go, is to you," he paused, as weighing the possibility of his -inclusion, "<i>all</i>—the will of God. It may be in the meanings of Fate -to destroy France, but our <i>FAITH in France</i>—and that means <i>Force</i> -and <i>Strength</i> and <i>Devotion</i> will put that <i>Fate to flight</i>."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></p> - -<p class="center">THE INVASION</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">The</span> deluge came. The spreading front of the magnificent wave of -destroying Germans swept into France from Belgium, engulfing towns, -foundering villages, flooding the wide country with its encompassing -waters. Bah—the symbol is hopeless. <i>Not water</i>, the life-giving and -fructifying essence of the skies, which fills the earth with gladness, -not the moisture of the meandering rivulets that enamel the ground -with flowers and grass, not the blessed warm rains that search the -little brown rootlets of the glorious trees, and feed them nutriment -and gather to them the atoms of mineral from the ground, that through -the great trunks and all of the enlacing branches, build aloft to the -bending skies the temple for the birds, and the home of protecting -shadows, the wide canopy of beauty that holds the mists of the morning, -and holds back the fury of the storms. None of these things that start -in our minds familiar images of flowers and fruitage, when the pleasant -word <i>waters</i> fills our ears—none of these came with the Germans.</p> - -<p>It was a wave, but a wave of FIRE, con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>suming, scorifying, killing, -<i>fire</i>; it was a flood, but a flood of ravenous <i>flames</i>, ravishing, -withering, scorching, cremating <i>flames</i>—and there were indeed -<i>waters</i>. What?—the endlessly running fountain of tears. <i>Tears</i> of -fathers, and mothers, wives and children, tears over vanished homes, -vanished faces, vanished tongues; tears before the black unpitying -future of penury and want, of loneliness and beggary; tears over -maimed lives, lost bodies, voiceless orphans, crushed shrines, deluded -hopes—Nay differently, tears that were never shed, dried up in the -fierce heat of bitterness and hate and terror, of shuddering despair, -of dumb abnegation; fountains of grief indeed that were sucked dry by -the tempest of impiety, that gathered them up into a storm-cloud before -the Throne of the Most High and from whose depths rolled the awful -summons—"<i>Why, Why, Why, is This?</i>"</p> - -<p>I had given my lecture in St. Choiseul, and the little church house was -finely packed. The people came from the villages about, trudging over -the roads, riding horses and mules, driving in wagons and chariots, -with country gentlemen amongst them, and lovely ladies, and bunches of -the older children. The choir of the seminary at Bienne helped us, and -sang touching songs, and gay ones too, and songs of courage and songs -of prayer. It was inspiring. I looked at the patch-work assemblage, the -earnest young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> and the pale and trembling old—many helped by their -children to walk into the big room—the maidens wearing the tricolor -in profusion, the boys waving flags, and Monsieur Raoul la Fayette de -Birot, the owner of the superb chateau over towards La Ferté where -each year were held the grand <i>chasse-cours</i>, seated in the front row -with madame, splendidly arrayed, while at his side sat the humble -<i>chasse-mulet</i> from Briois shrinking at first and fumbling his way to -some less conspicuous place, and held back by M. de Birot who spoke up -quite loudly:</p> - -<p>"<i>Restez. Je vous prie. À present nous sommes tous français, tous amis, -Comment! fait-il une difference, quand la patrie est en peril?</i>"</p> - -<p>There were shouts of encouragement and approval, and then the crowded -hall rose <i>en masse</i>, and sang the Marseillaise. It shook the rafters -and went far away through the open windows, and woke the sleeping birds.</p> - -<p>Père Antoine introduced me very prettily, very sweetly, and when -he took my hand and led me forward to the edge of the stage the -cheering was tremendous. I saw Gabrielle, and father and mother, the -<i>Capitaine</i>, Privat Deschat, and Père Grandin, all together near the -front, and dear sister held her face in her kerchief, because she could -not hold back the tears.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was a little frightened at the beginning, but I found my tongue, and -described the scenes in Paris, and what the government was doing and -how the troops were being mobilized, and the news of the successful -landing of the English reinforcements, and the confidence everywhere, -and then I read a part of M. Viviani's speech at the Chamber of -Deputies, and closed with a recitation from Bambetta's great oration.</p> - -<p>Ah! that was magnificent; I had skill in such things—as what Frenchman -has not—and thrilled with emotion, my heart afire with pride and hope -and love, I declaimed the blazing lines as though my lips were touched -by the same divine flame that had lit those of the great tribune.</p> - -<p>The tribute was immense; the building seemed to rock in the vibrations -caused by the thunders of applause. All were standing, hats and caps -filled the air, a sea of handkerchiefs sprang up, and the flags were -torn from the walls and the standards, and mingled their brave colors -in the ocean of snow. I saw Gabrielle between the <i>Capitaine</i> and -Privat Deschat pale and rigid as if transfixed with pain.</p> - -<p>Père Antoine spoke then, and invited M. de Birot to become chairman of -the supplementary meeting, designed to form committees, and outline -plans for practical work.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> We were most successful; the principal -committee, that of Hospital Supplies, made me its chairman, and I -instantly began my work. It was this work that carried me over the -department, and kept me long weeks from home. Gabrielle wished to go -to Paris and serve under the Red Cross, but I opposed that vigorously -and kept her at St. Choiseul where she did nobly, gathering hospital -supplies and furnishings for the soldiers, and where was inaugurated -that mystical and supernatural VISITATION that led—as the world now -knows—to the suppression of the raging conflict, as it threatened to -level all of Europe in smouldering ruin; when—was it not so?—the -HAND of GOD rested upon the earth, and the Armies shrank back from the -Vision and DISSOLVED.</p> - -<p>On August twenty-second the mailed hand of the Germans sprang over -the borders of France, and from Mons to Luxembourg, its outstretched -fingers were crushing the land and strangling its people. Against -those groping fingers the twined hands of the French and English -were now eagerly—albeit with some trepidation—also grappling. On -the twenty-fourth there was reported terrific fighting on the Sambre -and the Meuse. On the twenty-fifth, the French and English allies -retreated, forced back by the hammering strength and anvil blows of the -Germans, who dealt their <i>coups de tonnerre</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> while banked against each -other around their massed guns, the whole monster moved onward like -some titanic physical eruption.</p> - -<p>Again on the twenty-sixth the allies reluctantly yield—yielding -everywhere with fierce retributive blows on their part, and -consolidating as they retreat, every energy of resistance behind them, -while they prepare new lines of defense, and gather together every -available scrap of support, material and human. On the twenty-seventh -the news is received that the battle line reaches from Maubeuge to the -mountains of the Vosges, and that the Germans number one million men. -Against this mountainous avalanche of soldiery and guns the grimmest -determination alone can hold its ground. But the walls are unbroken and -the raging flood breaks through nowhere yet.</p> - -<p>On the twenty-ninth I was far north with the armies, in the Red-Cross -ambulances. The Germans fought their way to La Fère—north-west of -Laon, and about 140 kilometres from Paris (about 90 miles), but the -watch word <i>Tiens ferme</i>—Hold tight—was passed from mouth to mouth, -and the tense strain of dogged endurance held the fronts together, each -inch fought for with savage fury.</p> - -<p>Someone blundered; there seems to be no doubt of that. We were not -receiving reinforcements as we should; the troops had been urged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> into -Alsace, tempted by a barren victory, and the large support which these -battalions could have provided failed. <i>C'était miserable!</i></p> - -<p>On the thirtieth our left yielded. A gigantic battle was fought out -in the department of the Aisnes near La Fère, at Guise and Laon, on -the road to Paris. The English allies proved to be adamant, immovable. -Under Sir John French at Mons and at Cambrai, they saved the day.</p> - -<p>The cannonading was deafening, and the red tongues of fire quivered -in dense volumes along the struggling lines of men, shot forward -here, stumbling backward there, crowded in disarranged groups that -swayed this way and that. Ever and anon terrific rushes forced, from -either side, into the open midst the raging storm of the vomiting -guns, impotent sallies, whose human units fell beneath the withering, -blasting discharges of the cannon, torn into fragments by the bursting -shells, or suddenly trampled into disfigured masses by maddened -charges of cavalry, these last again stricken into death or helpless -mutilation by the converging fire of the batteries, victim and victor, -man and horse, heaped up in a throbbing or motionless blackened mass, -filtered through with the oozing streams of blood, where indeed to -the disembodied ear, that might have bent above them, rose the cries -of suffering, or the last murmurs of the anguished dying, or the -indistinguishable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> agonized prayers of those who yet lived and prayed -for deliverance.</p> - -<p>Above the armies on either side the air was loaded with the brown and -bluescent clouds of smoke, in which the lurid splashes of carmine from -bursting shells broke momentary gaps. The dropping shells sent to every -side scurrying figures, pressed against each other in panic, when -with sullen roar, lost almost amidst the universal din and clash and -swelter of noise, its imprisoned powers were released in straight lines -of fire, carrying along their blinding thread of light the shattering -steel missiles of death, the blistering resin and sulphur, while at the -inner edges of that crushed resurgence of living men lay the victims of -its rage, limbless soldiers, bodies stricken into shapelessness, the -fainting suitors of Death gasping for breath.</p> - -<p>But often the harsh steel missile, with its cracked sides, emitting -the fell arsenal of its sputtering and lightning driven contents, -failed to meet its desired mark, the soft flesh and the brittle bones -of living men. It sank, defeated, upon the impassive earth, vengefully -burrowing its hot way into the yielding ground, becoming in its burial -a mimic volcano, ripping aside its earthen tomb, as its detonation, -deadened to a hideous grumble, sent ball and canister through the soil, -spattering far and wide with dirt and mud and grass, the curtains of -the ambulances,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> the wheels of the wagons, the guards of the ammunition -motors, the backs and shins and breasts of men. Back of the lines the -gouged earth showed everywhere the frightful plunges of the foiled -demons, while with inconstant frequency noticeable to the trained eye, -not unobserved by those who thereby just escaped destruction, lay the -black bolides, extinguished and harmless.</p> - -<p>Behind that wavering and uneasy or else just stiffened frontier of -combat, where the murderous duel was played its sharpest, where men -with blood-shot eyes, blackened bodies, and rent clothing were lashed -into a maniacal heroism, where officers at intervals feeling the -necessity, or inspired by the traditional splendor of service, dashed -into the open and in the withering rain of shot and shell, upright, -and with sentinel precision, directed the fire or exhorted their men -to steadfastness—behind that marvellous line of human endurance, -the fluctuating panorama of supply and reparation and reinforcement -spread. Here were the gathered platoons ready for entering the thinning -lines, the marshalled helpers of the ambulance corps, the doctors -and orderlies, the racing caissons constantly feeding the rapacious -and smoothly running cannon, the more distant assemblages of the -commissariat, and behind them—a long long way off—that perpetual -train of fleeing victims, the procession of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> evicted, hidden, as to -their resemblances to human proportions, under loads of domestic goods, -the paraphernalia of the household, so that they indistinguishably took -on the appearance of a vast titanic, coarsely corrugated and dirtily -colored reptile, worming its way endlessly into the distance.</p> - -<p>And when the eye, freed momentarily from its awful imprisonment in -that hideous wrestle of death and life, turned outward to the wide -horizons, the image of the desolating ravages of war were multiplied. -The confused flames and smoke-clouds of burning villages or deserted -shelters rose tardily into the dimmed skies, while, caught nearer at -hand perchance, and beyond the invading surges of the Germans, if seen -at all through the screen of vapors, the broken angular edges of wall -and parapet, tower and steeple, cut the horizon with cruel indentations.</p> - -<p>I had reached the neighborhood of a little village near Noyon, and -intended to enter the lines, having a special pass which would permit -me to come quite close to the firing ranges. The reason for this -urgency on my part was the knowledge that Sebastien was with the -Third Fusiliers, in a division of the Fifth Army Corps, and a letter -sent by him to Dora Destin which had been communicated to the captain -by an <i>attaché</i> of Gallieni who was com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>mandant of Paris, told his -sweetheart that he was not well, and expressed a wish to hear from her. -Dora had come to me with the letter, stained with tears, and begged -me to make an effort to get to Quintado, and to take him not only her -message—written in the neatest hand-writing—but a package of woven -odds and ends which would help his comfort in the camps. Poor girl, she -was inconsolable.</p> - -<p>It was about two in the afternoon of a dull day, with the skies heavily -laden with gray flat clouds, and there was a light drizzle falling, -with occasional sharper gusts of wind that smote the rain into keen -lines slanting eastward. I had pushed on—helped by my commission—and -found access almost to the immediate front unhindered. The Third -Fusiliers, I was told, held a part of the most exposed part of the -field, and that the battle was raging at that instant. That fact was -too evident. I heard the continuous roar of the guns; I saw the shells -exploding above and around me, while past me through the open ways of -access and retreat the stretchers passed in undeviating succession, -in their rapid methodical transference of the wounded to the field -hospitals further out, and in the direction of Compiègne. The incessant -strain of anxious incisive movement, the troubled crowding of exertion -among the waiters, the sharp punctuated orders, the brist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>ling worry of -preparation, the racing ambulances—these indications behind the lines -formed the declarative prelude, were one approaching the battle from -behind it, of its terrible reality. As reality lay just beyond that -thicket of trees, that hastily constructed redoubt, that furrowed field -where shallow trenches cut it lengthwise, that crumbling hut, smoking -with concealed flames and spitting gun-shots.</p> - -<p>I knew that the battle raged, but I insisted on making my way -forward, and the favoring chance of a sudden disturbance, some -intense propulsion of the enemy driving our soldiers rearward in a -dishevellement—quickly overcome—brought me right within the focus of -the fight. I was seized up in the refluent movement that reestablished -our line. The oscillation sent me eastward, and I was thrown down, -rolled over and almost trampled on, in a furious despairing rush -forward of artillery. I fell within sight of a hillock, whose little -yet unscathed crown of grass was sprinkled with daisies—the pathetic -irony of flowers in that waste of slaughter! I crawled to this trivial -protection, and, with a prayer on my lips, dug myself into the yielding -mould, and watched. The battle line was still somewhat beyond me and to -my amazement and satisfaction I soon discovered that I was actually in -the companies of the Third Fusiliers. Was Sebastien in the front?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> - -<p>As I recall that instant now, it seems almost an illusion that it -occurred at all. It was the concentrated immensity of it; its vast -superabundant detail, crushed into a measure of time out of all -proportion insignificant, that put it among the categories of dreams. -Before me was a very slight declension of the ground, forming a sort -of broad hollow, traversed at its centre by a stream-bed, now almost -dry, but retaining a penurious thread of water, somewhat replenished -now by the rain, which, assisted by frequent depressions had gathered -into stagnant pools. Beyond the hollow to the right and to the left, -were two sparse clumps of trees, crowning the opposite crest of the -subsidence. Sheltered in these puny groves were cannon which had -apparently just reached that forward position, as the gunners were -seen desperately forcing them into position. Between the cannon-groups -came the tightly compacted formation of the Germans—wedge-like—half -crouchingly as they advanced, the close combination of figures making a -chain of stern set faces above the pressed guns and bristling bayonets.</p> - -<p>Our men had been driven off the opposite ridge, where the crippled -trees showed the bitterness of the contest, and where lay motionless -bodies in heaps while down the very gradual decline—less -frequently—could be detected the fallen figures, some yet moving, and -still nearer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> to my point of view strewn from end to end of the hollow -were the dead and dying, while—gruesome spectacle—the darkened waters -of the pools betrayed the slow infiltration of blood. From the hollow -the French had retreated to the southern edge, and were now entrenching -themselves for a new stand, at the moment when the Germans, recovering -their confidence after a partial repulse, renewed the attack, and were -coming again to close quarters with our soldiers. Our positions were -being shelled. The <i>mitrailleuse</i> rapidly seizing position would soon -add their panic-breeding terrors, belching forth their destroying -torrents of ball and canister. The soft hiss of an ascending bomb -reached my ears, and later the roar or ripping whine of its explosion. -Our artillery, entangled in the previous <i>debacle</i>, was not yet -reorganized for response, and the moment looked perilously uncertain -for our defense.</p> - -<p>Quickly the commanding officers realized that the stabilizing help of a -vigorous charge would bring to the derailment time to straighten out, -and, before the full power of the enemy's batteries could be developed, -inflict a salutary repulse. There was a breathing space left. A -moment's halt had brought with it reawakened energies, and when the -order was given the ground thickened with men, and the disarray, as by -the flourish of a wand of dissipation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> vanished, and with shouts the -braced bodies poured forward into that shallow trough, sprang across -it, and rose on its opposite edge.</p> - -<p>I too had risen out of my half buried position, and, transported by the -surpassing glory of the effort became oblivious of danger. The cheering -lines shot on, men dropping from the ranks and rolling backward, -becoming limp and silent, to be seized the next minute by the quickly -following support, and carried out of danger to the ambulances.</p> - -<p>My eye was fastened upon the racing lines. The Germans, unable to -bring at once the full power of their batteries to bear upon the -French, awaited the attack with their massed infantry; indeed under the -vociferous orders of their officers, leaped against it. The shock was -blood-curdling. On either side the officers led, and amid the frightful -collisions swords, bayonets, the heavily wielded butts of guns swayed, -and rose and fell, among the frantic combatants. All loud sounds seemed -suddenly stilled, and only the muffled groans and hissing suspirations -of the heaving intermingled and vitalized mound of humans were heard -and above them the metallic clash of arms.</p> - -<p>The gunners dared not fire. It was, as if arrested by the suspense of -a mortal conflict, each side was held at bay, except where between the -armies this intimate carnage raged.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> More companies were hurled into -the hollow—and from both sides—and the insignificant crease in the -landscape became a boiling caldron of death. The German resistance had -at first proved successful, and our men were being forced down into -the battered and now unrecognizable rivulet, so that the hand to hand -engagement filled the hollow with its lethal turbulence.</p> - -<p>To and fro the mixed tumult bent and receded, when from our right, -somewhere in the rear, a bomb soared. Its hiss, sweetened to a murmur -only, sang in my ears as the harbinger of rescue. It fell a little -within the German lines, and then came the detonation, and the mangled -masses fell backward. The pressure relieved, and the appalling sense -of some successor to the avenging missile, breaking down the courage -of the enemy, our reinforced battalion was suddenly afforded room, -from the enemy's recoil. Our antagonists were ballotted backward, -as if struck with doom, and so, swinging their guns into horizontal -phalanx, with naked bayonets the French renewed their charge, and -drove the ravaged ranks before them, up, over the ridge, and back. The -next moment was scarcely passed, before the hollow was again refilled -with troops ordered to take and turn the enemy's batteries, somewhat -screened in the desolated groves of trees.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the twinkling of an eye the work was accomplished, and the Germans -fled. Down the line for more than a kilometre I suddenly saw on either -side of me a frontier of bayonets—from fresh arrivals—fixed and -advancing and flashing. The slowly falling rain had relented, and the -sun gleamed for an instant on the bared needle points, as if in augury -of our success. Then the serried profile of bayonets paused, perhaps -for mechanical alignments, tilted upward and moved; moved as with the -release of a gigantic spring.</p> - -<p>The line swept on. I watched them, fascinated, enthralled by its awful -menace. The deserted hollow—no longer a battle field—was almost -empty, save of those criss-crossed piles of fallen bodies where the -transfixed agony of individual conflict yet remained unchanged, in -the attitudes of foes knit together in the horrid embrace of their -death-fight. Where the severed corpses, fouled in smoke and grime and -dirt, lay shapeless, or distended on back or face, or sometimes with -arms twisted in knots among each other, or just alone, hither and -thither, solitary bodies unsoiled by any mutilation and bent together, -as if bivouacked for sleep. And here too were the wounded, sometimes -moaning audibly, sometimes still writhing with the urgent wounds, fresh -in leg or arm or breast. And everywhere was the ploughed and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> tormented -earth, trampled and dug into by the straining feet of the combatants, -meshed with holes of water and now, under the recovered sun, -glistening, wet, and muddy. I hurried along with the Red-Cross men into -the hollow with my mission quite driven out of my head; only anxious -to assist the wounded to some places of safety and relief. The battle -seemed for the moment displaced, though around us the orders sounded, -caissons rumbled, regiments poured past us and the intermittent aerial -swish of shells was heard, and not so far to the right and to the left -the German front was murderously insistent, pinching us where we stood -in a dangerous salient.</p> - -<p>After lifting a number of the limp bodies of men, in whose faces shone -at times the benediction of gratitude, and at others rested just the -pallid smile of recognition, or else were filmed with the bleaching -shades of death, I went to the top of the ridge beyond which our -forward flung companies had routed the Germans. The fearful clash, body -against body, was resumed in a ploughed field but the horrors were -augmented—though too it had a splendor in it—by the added carnage -of the plunging cavalry that now thickened the fight into a crucial -contest. The captured batteries were useless here, but they were being -dragged into the French lines behind us. I was leaning against one of -the willows of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> the groves, thrashed into a ruin of fallen branches, -yielding to sickness of heart that might have thrown me into a faint -when I felt my feet tugged at. I started and looked down. In the heavy -grass, trampled and rutted, I saw the outstretched body of a soldier, -dragging itself upward by my legs, and he had so far freed himself from -the herbage that our eyes met. It was Sebastien Quintado.</p> - -<p>Perhaps I shouted. I hardly think so. If I had Sebastien never heard -me, for he had fallen back again, and lay motionless. For an instant -I thought his life had fled. I seized his shoulders, and pulled him -within the trees. He was bleeding from a cutlass wound across his -chest, and from a gash in his thigh. We carried him back into the camp -and he slowly revived. The half extinguished spark was relit. Of course -he knew me. He said he knew me as I stood above him on the battlefield, -but thought, half deliriously, that it was a dream only.</p> - -<p>I had secured excellent quarters for Quintado, and his wounds while -grave were surely healing. Had I not met him in time—the very nick of -time—he might have bled to death. At the earliest practicable moment -I intended to bring him to St. Choiseul. I knew that when I could tell -him that, he would be better. <i>L'espoir est à le fond de la santé.</i></p> - -<p>We were in a relay hospital, back some kilo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>metres from the front, and -on the road to Paris, where most of the charges were transferred. It -was an encampment of tents, and in one of these—indeed it was near -Compiègne—the day after I had brought him from the field, and when too -at any moment we might find it necessary to hastily retreat, as the -Germans pressed on in spite of the grim resistance that like a wall -delayed them. I say it was in one of these tents, towards sunset, as -the level rays, unchecked by a cloud poured over the camp a light that -seemed to wash out the stains of dirt and use, and make it brilliant, -that, as I sat near Quintado's cot, I caught his eyes resting upon me -with an indescribable affection.</p> - -<p>"Sebastien," I said, "you will live, and very soon, O! very soon, I -will take you to St. Choiseul, and you shall stay with us. Is it well?"</p> - -<p>He murmured; "Ah, Alfred. How surely you know it is well."</p> - -<p>"Sebastien, you must not talk any more. You see what I hope to do. At -the most two or three days and you will be with Dora." His eyes were -bright with joy, and then almost as quickly they darkened with tears.</p> - -<p>"No! No!" I remonstrated, "No! Sebastien—you need have no fears. The -doctor says you will be quite the same, a strong, well man. Eh! Do you -hear me? And see, this is what Dora<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> has sent to you. All made by her -own hands. Are you not content?"</p> - -<p>I unfolded the roll of stockings, and handkerchiefs, and mittens, and -waist bands, and as I handed them to feel he touched them with his -lips, as though they were holy—indeed to him they were most holy—and -then his lips moved too in prayer and a look unutterably tender flushed -his face. His great liquid eyes closed, and his heart was consecrated -anew to the pretty orphan girl.</p> - -<p>Ah! those were terrible days. The shocking Teuton never faltered. He -came on with big weltering blows that beat the French and English back, -though we kept in good order, and, as the bulletin gave it, "The dam -still holds, and breaches are being repaired." The government thought -it best to leave Paris, and re-establish itself in Bordeaux, and the -people thronged east and south from Paris to Tours, Orleans, Le Mons, -Biarritz, Brest, Rennes, Nantes, Bordeaux, going in all ways, and -blocking the roads so that nothing could move, and the men and women -slept in the carriages, and wagons, and motor-cars, and in the roadside -houses, and in the fields.</p> - -<p>And the peasants north of Paris, in the farms and gardens, left in -terror, and about fifteen hundred of them entered Paris—trudged the -whole way—with boxes, and bags, bundles,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> strings of poultry, and -sometimes driving their cows and pulling their pigs, with provisions -tied up in shawls, and utterly dumb with grief and consternation.</p> - -<p>Then the flying men appeared over Paris and dropped bombs just to -scare the populace, letting fall papers and threats with lying news of -the Germans almost at the gates of the city, and enclosing scoffing -invitations to surrender. The bombs were dropped in the Rue de Hanovre, -the Rue du Mart, the Rue Colbert, the Rue de Londres, the Rue de -la Condamine. But later our aviators paroled the skies, and garrisoned -the air, and the frightful <i>taubes</i> came no more. But it was I think -on September third (thirty-two days after the beginning of the war), -that a daring show-man let out orchestra stalls at the "<i>butte</i>" of -Montmartre on an arranged tribune, whence the big German dragons could -be seen hideously humming above the city.</p> - -<p><i>Il était un peu drôle, mais la plaisanterie est dans le fond de la -nature française; n'est ce pas?</i> But Père Grandin frowned, and called -it <i>une grande folie</i>, and then repeated the lines from La Fontaine:</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Le trépas vient tout guérir;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Mais ne bougeons d'ou nous sommes:</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Plutôt souffrir que mourir,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>C'est la devise des hommes.</i></span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> - -<p>Well I got Sebastien away from Compiègne—and it was only about six -days later that the Germans swarmed over this region—and after delays -in the trains, crowded with the wounded, brought him to Paris. The city -was in a suppressed excitement with a seething exodus of citizens going -on, who stood in lines at the stations ten abreast and almost half a -mile long waiting their turns to get away to the south. I stayed some -days in Paris, putting Sebastien in one of the well equipped hospital -<i>échoppes</i> in the Champ de Mars. He was yet weak and nervous, and his -breast caused him much pain. I saw him every night, and we went over -the orders and the news of each day together.</p> - -<p>The government left Paris for Bordeaux, on September second, and it -was thought that there might soon be a pitched battle around the Paris -forts before a week was over. The enemy was pushing its outposts nearer -and nearer, with the main advance directed against the left flank of -the French centre. On September eighth the allied armies were more than -holding their own from Ourcq to Verdun. Preparations went on furiously -all over Paris, and the Bois de Boulogne was turned into a cattle -ranch, and the ratio of available provisions to the population—then -over two million—carefully calculated. The use of gas for cooking was -prohibited, and its use confined to lighting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> East of Paris were lines -of refugees, filling the roads from Verdun, almost seventy kilometres -(about 43 miles) long; the Chateau de Bizy was transformed into a -hospital, and also the Chateau des Penitents at Vernonnet.</p> - -<p>It was evident that St. Choiseul for the present was comparatively safe -from invasion, the current of investment moving to the south-east, -although a letter I received from Gabrielle said that German military -motors had been seen near Briois and that their occupants had rifled -the wine cellars of M. Villiers. Sebastien was impatient to get away, -and I feeling too excited to remain with him, concluded to send him at -once to St. Choiseul, writing to Gabrielle that we would come together. -My intention to return to St. Choiseul was further quickened by some -indefinite statements by my sister that father and mother had partly -lost their memories. I instinctively divined that the relentless pall -of paralysis was closing about them, and the miserable sombreness of -this thought with all of the present darkness about me, plunged me into -a dull speechless misery.</p> - -<p>The autumn lights shone upon the fair lands about St. Choiseul and -shone upon the gardens, thicketed with early chrysanthemums of the -sweet village itself, with a lovelier tenderness. It was altogether -charming, and as we rode from Briois gently—very gently—Sebastien<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> -caught my shoulders and head in his arms, and hid his face on my -breast, sobbing softly. The poor boy's heart was full of memories and -full too doubtless of presaging fears. The happiness snatched from his -life by the nation's peril, the yet unfaded impressions of the dreadful -conflict painted to his eyes with the darkest, deadliest colors of -suffering, the returning familiar beauty of his old home, and the -rising flood of anticipation before the realization of his welcome, -mingled together in a torrent of emotion too strong for his composure. -I clasped him warmly, and the sympathy of my own bereaved soul covered -him as with a benediction. Slowly we moved on amid the splendid -fruitage of the fall, where, on either side, the richly laden fields -bore their golden crops, and where too—another note of the country's -extremity—the hardy old men and the children, and the silent devoted -women, toiled almost alone at the deeply needed task of the generous -harvest.</p> - -<p><i>Mais, voila, qui arrive!</i> We have reached the little bridge, from -whose moss encrusted arches rises the low hill of the dear village, -and just over there, half way up, stands the old chestnut tree. And, -coming down to meet us, is the whole <i>entourage</i> of old men and women -and children, a mimic army bearing flags, the banners of the church, -and singing, while an improvised little group of musicians at their -head,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> sent far over the wayside the throb of the drums and the shrill -whistles of the fifes.</p> - -<p>It was indeed Quintado's welcome home. Our horse recoiled, snorted and -reared at the unusual spectacle, and the stirring accompaniment, and -the next moment the throng was all about us, and there were cheers and -salutations, and waving caps, and a happy bubbling merriment, that made -poor Sebastien half wild, and so bewildered him with pride and joy -that the poor fellow was speechless, and almost in tears. I spoke a -little for him, and the good people then ranged themselves around the -carriage, and the horse, led by the head, to prevent his sudden bolting -away from the noise and clamor, brought us into St. Choiseul.</p> - -<p>Quintado had whispered to me with a blush on his cheeks and with a -faltering voice, "But Dora is not here?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, Sebastien," I cried, "the best comes last. Wait. You shall see. -I think I know that Dora was afraid. Yes really afraid. It would -be too much joy. Remember she has heard that you were wounded, and -perhaps—surely you understand—"</p> - -<p>I did not finish my assurance. His good arm was about my neck, and just -to see him so overcome, without knowing the reason, pleased the good -friends, marching happily in his company, and the smiling children, so -that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> these, his pupils, broke out in a loud chorus that he had taught -them at school; a gay barcarolle from Moliere, that reflected the -buoyant unimpeded liveliness of young and loving spirits, though indeed -I felt some scruples as to its propriety just now, when we bowed to the -dark menace of a punishing destiny:</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Sortez, sortez de ces lieux,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><i>Soucis, chagrins, et tristesse;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Venez, venez, ris et jeux,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><i>Plaisirs, amours et tendresse.</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Ne songeons qu'à nous réjouir,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>La grande affaire est le plaisir.</i></span><br /> -</p> - -<p>It was pleasant to hear; the voices, sharp trebles, stabbing the quiet -air with their keen accents, like vocal poignards, and running on -with us under the first short group of walnuts—just opposite Privat -Deschat's—whose lower branches were draped in the bronzed leaves of -escaped vines. We moved along altogether in, to me, a curious sad -emblematic way of the past happinesses and peace. The song breathed the -pensive reminder of a remote dalliance and serenity, lost now behind -the rolling clouds of belching cannon and smoking bombs.</p> - -<p>The swinging melody put to flight immediate fears, yet like an -incantation and, like dreamers, we surrendered to the transient -forgetfulness:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Aimons jusques au trépas;</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><i>La raison nous y convie.</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Helas! si l'on n'aimait pas,</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><i>Que serait—ce de la vie!</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Ah! perdons plutôt le jour</i></span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>Que de perdre notre amour.</i></span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Well! that was fitting enough, and as I glanced at Quintado his -ingenuous bliss under this vocal stimulation of his natural feelings -was boundlessly agreeable. How very handsome he was; excitement had -thrown into his flat cheeks a becoming color, and the lingering pallor, -elsewhere, bestowed upon him an enticing interest, quite pleasing. -His deep eyes glowed with pleasure, and the black hair escaping from -beneath his pompon lay like ebony fingers on his white temples. Really -for example, he was angelic, though of the darker hue and deeper -temperament of angels, and there glinted from his eyes a stubborn -tender maliciousness of animal joy. <i>He knew that Dora waited for him.</i></p> - -<p>And so we came decorously, with manifold lingerings, where the brisk -people pressed against the carriage wheels, and almost stood under the -horse's feet, up to our house, the one—you remember—next to that -of Privat Deschat's and there, <i>Mon Dieu</i>, how I see it now! There -was a beautiful arcade of branches of yews,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> and amongst them red, -red roses, like ruby stars, and over the path beneath the arch were -strewn vine-leaves. We alighted very slowly, for Quintado had again -become weak, and the people were most respectful, and considerate, -and, because it might have jarred him, withheld their cheers, and just -hailed him with uncovered heads. Ah! it was most pathetic I think.</p> - -<p>And up the path we went to that porch, where later, much later, -Gabrielle and I sat, overwrought and stricken with wonder and dread, -and on it stood father and mother, trembling, but gracious, and -tenderly sympathetic, and then—</p> - -<p>Then Deschat and I took him up the stairs, on the chair made of our -crossed hands—the chair children make for each other—with Quintado's -good arm about my neck, and brought him to the bed-chamber, so dainty -and white, and sweet-smelling, and clean, and on the great broad bed -we laid him <i>so</i> gently down and, from where he lay, his eyes could -see the sky, blue like a pea-blossom, with the trellised vapors spun -across it, and the window framed in Virginia creeper, with, at that -very moment, a wren whisking through its tendrils. And then Gabrielle -brought Dora to the door, and softly we went away, and the two lovers -were left there, and—<i>Helas!</i> I was just envious perhaps, with some -illy stirred remembrance, some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> indefinable despair—I looked back, and -the two faces clung together and the whispering voices mingled, in the -inarticulate ecstacy of that meeting.</p> - -<p>I stepped again to the porch; the people were drifting away, still -softly singing, but I did not see them. I saw only the field of -battle, sodden with the dead; I heard only the menacing whisper of -the ascending shell; I thought only of one Divine Figure—He of the -Cross—weeping before His Father in Heaven for the sins of the world.</p> - -<p>And so the night came on, and I still sat there, until a hand rested on -my shoulder. I noticed its trembling pressure.</p> - -<p>I raised my eyes. There stood near me the captain, Père Grandin and -Père Antoine. It was the last who spoke:</p> - -<p>"<i>My son, Sebastien Quintado is no more!</i>"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></p> - -<p class="center">THE REPULSE</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">As</span> the Germans crossed the border of France and the hordes of the -Kaiser, like some whirlwind of devastation, crushed our villages, -trampled down our gardens, smote our sons, France trembled with rage, a -rage at first not unmixed with fears. But it was for a moment only. The -fierce reaction followed, and with the steadfast poise of her faith, -her endurance, her heroism, she resisted. That resistance was a sublime -act of confidence in herself. It meant an endless self-sacrifice. It -meant a solidarity of hearts. It meant a complete disenthrallment -from the illusions of ease and indolence and impregnability. We -were surprised. The enemy was at our gates. And Paris, the cynosure -of our pride and of our affection banished its <i>insouciance</i>, and -suddenly became strained with gravity, and a kind of, I know not what, -absorption in a new life.</p> - -<p>The German wedge moved on, and then our armies holding stiffly -together fell back, prodding the sides of the huge leviathan, that -sprawled over our fair land with its fierce talons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> extended, with -a savage not-to-be-denied hunger reaching out for that paramount -morsel—Paris—and spitting out of its ravenous mouth sprays of -desecrating Uhlans and automobile excursionists, who were here and -there, now hiding in a wood, now racing over the roads. It was these -drops and waterings of saliva from its horrid living mass that spread -terror and anxiety and a sickening dread. But we had not severed our -lines, and the retreating army corps tightly kept their cordon intact, -though falling back with a deep reentering swerve in the centre, where -the enemy fought hard to break through. And not seldom it happened -that those exudations from its vast throat were stamped out summarily, -so that no spot of their defilement remained. And Joffre—<i>Pater -patriae</i>—was not worried. That we knew; the plan was working. I -learned that from a colonel who had been at the crossing of the Meuse, -where, so he said, "the Germans spent their thousands to gain their -end, squadrons upon squadrons, slaughtered like pigeons from a trap, -coming on, stuck together like an army of termites, and beaten into -death by the merciless fire from our guns. But they got over," he said, -"and that was what they wanted to do. Why, living men were thrown into -the gaps to be rained down with shot and shell, like so much earth and -stone into a pit that must be crossed."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> - -<p>The plan was to thrust the great beast sideways, and for that purpose -Joffre kept his plunging assaults on the west, while the English lured -them eastward and then came the Battle of the Marne. Charleroi, Rheims, -Rethel, Soissons, St. Quentin, had been passed, the bridge over the -Marne near Meaux blown up, and now came the sudden halt with our backs -against the wall, as it were, and every nerve and muscle strained in -the death-grip. The magnificence of our resistance was the measure of -our sense of peril.</p> - -<p>I had trembled for St. Choiseul, but as the tide swept southward those -fears passed, at least there was a breathing spell for us all. It -had been sad enough. The few men who were under command to join the -colors left in a little company, with their wives and children, their -sweethearts and parents, all silent and dreary, with the dreariness -of nameless fears. The men only were smiling and cheerful, and—not -all of them; the women mute, and the prattling children impressed by -some instinctive sympathy, almost always mute too. The women were all -resigned, I thought, with just here and there some silently weeping -girl, who smothered her sobs, and forced to her eyes the same earnest -pathetic resolve of resignation that the others wore. Gabrielle had -been an angel of mercy to these women. She had visited them;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> she -opened our house to them, and entertained them, and took care of some -of the children, and was so brave and loving with them, that they -called her, among themselves, <i>la Mère de Pitié</i>—the Mother of Pity. A -pretty name.</p> - -<p>I had been driven to the verge of exhaustion with work in the Red-Cross -and with service in Paris. The dispersion southward of the war-cloud -roused my spirits, and then I was requested to follow the troops to -Meaux—that was in September just after Quintado died—and I was more -than glad. There was much work to do there, and I knew the leaders -thought that the Germans were trapped. There had been some evidence of -shortage of ammunition with them, and their loss had been crippling—so -it seemed, though like some scourge of insects extinction was -impossible. Behind those who fell pressed on the unnumbered legions, -fresh and ready. But the advance had been too rapid and the critical -moment dawned when the blow could be struck that would hurl them -backward. So it was thought. So it proved.</p> - -<p>The country-side about Meaux is delicious in its pastoral charm. It is -<i>un pay riant</i>, and its smiles are so large and gentle, so benignant -and inviting, that the dwellers there are always smiling too. The -broken land rising, falling, with streams, passing hither, thither, -that gleam beneath the fair skies, and are like silver bands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> and -threads on its bursting jacket of green and gold, is a land of gardens -and fields, with clustering woods on hilltops, or, just missing that, -creeping down like warm coverlids in capes and tippets to the wide -valleys. Ah! it is most beautiful. And into this sweet refuge upon -these quiet happy changeful villages—changeful in the drifting shadows -from the slumbering clouds that basked above them in the glittering -sun—came the rough confusion of WAR. But it was not for long. No, -no, not for long. The kind God banished it before it had ravaged and -soiled the peaceful homes, the dainty walled gardens, the sweeping -fruitful meadows, the plenteous orchards, the teaming acres ripening so -enchantingly with grain and barley, or profaned its pretty grave-yards -gathered so warmly around its spired churches. Yes indeed our armies -and the English allies banked here with stubborn courage, and put it -all to flight. Drove it forty miles away!</p> - -<p>I saw much of that fighting. I was not far away when the English fought -like bull-dogs at Landrecies, when they hit the Teutons even harder -at Coulommiers, and in one engagement with our own men I took part. I -was not with the colors, but in the emergency I offered to shoulder -a gun and was assigned to a company by Colonel Brissot, who indulged -my fervor with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> a resigned and sympathetic shake of his noble head, -remarking:</p> - -<p>"<i>C'est un peu dure. Mais que voulez vous. Quand un homme veut à mourir -pour la Patrie c'est son affaire.</i>"</p> - -<p>We lay back on a hill in a thin wood, and had planted the machine -guns in shallow pits. It overlooked a road, down which our scouts -reported the Germans were coming. I saw the first advanced lines, the -gray multitude plunging on, apparently unadvised of our proximity. It -was our intention to enfilade them, and then, under cover of fire to -retreat, to another eminence, with a supporting column swinging from -the opposite quarter, so that eventually we might catch the enemy in -the double grip of two cross fires. On the Boches came confidently. -They spied us before our spit-fires got into action, and the order rang -out to charge us. Three companies were thought sufficient for the task -of cleaning us out. They went at us in a huge lunge forward, almost -unbrokenly up the hill slope, their ranks close pressed, and unwavering -by the fraction of a foot. Almost at the minute when they started -up the hill, from the rear a caisson rolled up to our position, and -two shells were dropped amongst them. I saw the individual men fall, -while, as they fell, others through the gaps sprang into their places,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> -and the solid front unchangeably swept upward. It was magnificent -discipline and superb valor. Another shell shattered the line, and I -saw the mangled bodies drop. But still the unchecked tide poured on, -with shouts, and somewhere from a distance I caught the vigorous beat -of drums. The next instant they were almost at the muzzles of our -cannon. The word was given and the ripping articulation of our machines -rained three deadly streams of shot. The men rolled over each other in -the murderous hail, and, for a moment, the whole line halted. The limp -dead bodies formed a rampart, and behind that hideous protection their -comrades fell to their knees and answered our fire with their guns. -At the same moment a shell with the detonation of a crack of thunder -soared over us, and struck the ground behind us, gimleting its way into -the scorched earth, that smoked like a mimic crater. A fragment of the -shell knocked over the gunner at one of the machine-guns and the next -instant our officer caught sight of a swarming mass of gray bodies, -debouching into the roadway to our left, stealthily and rapidly driving -down upon us, with the evident purpose of surrounding our salient. -The order to retreat under the charge of the right wing, who, for the -expedient, was to hold the enemy, now pretty well discomfited by the -unceasing machine fusillade, was given,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> and we on the left and centre -slowly retired, moving to the second line of defence, more stoutly -guarded by three regiments of infantry and the park of cannon.</p> - -<p>The position of our machine guns, and the endangered right wing, which -had utterly disarrayed the Germans by their bayonet onslaught, demanded -attention. It would require but a few minutes for the arrival of a new -division of the enemy, and already a greater force was seen detaching -itself from the main body on the road, crossing the field below the -hill, with a run. Everywhere in front of us the Teuton front seemed to -be enlarging, and the glittering helmets of the plumed Uhlans, like a -sheet of kindling fires, suddenly emerged within it. There was nothing -for it but retreat, and a retreat quickly made. I trembled for the -safety of the thin file of defenders on the hilltop. Their certain -extinction or capture was inevitable.</p> - -<p>Then something most unexpected happened. Dropping shells from the -extreme right of our second line of defense, where the danger had been -reported, covered the hillside with a rapid succession of eruptions. -It was insupportable, though, with characteristic stubbornness—the -German officers rushed more men to the desolated slope, where the -shells ripped the ground, and filled the air with iron splinters. It -was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> terrific, and our gunners and infantry, dismayed for their own -safety, in the superabundant rescue, scrambled back and, together -almost, entered the lines of the second defense. I remember well enough -my own struggles to get there, for at the very conjuncture when my legs -should have best succored me, the injured member became almost useless. -I rolled into a lucky hole, where there had been at some time an -excavation made, or begun, for some reason, possibly the building of an -outhouse or cattle shed. An intense pain developed, and I found myself -quite, as the Americans say, "out of commission." Within sight was our -second line of defense, bristling with rifles and concealed machine -guns, a strong position, well garrisoned, and immediately before me -raced the parting remnants of the small parleying party that I had -adventurously joined.</p> - -<p>My predicament was dangerous. The very thought of capture and isolation -for months or years from St. Choiseul and Gabrielle and the domestic -duties I was so sorely needed to perform, terrified me, but it also -made me more methodical and ingenious. I searched the possibilities of -a return to my friends, and the obvious plan was to "lie still," and in -the night, if the positions of the armies remained unchanged to steal -under the cover of darkness back to the French lines.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<p>Suddenly I heard the oncoming shouts of German troops, and I realized -that it was the advance ranks of the division deployed to our left to -surround the hill,—now deserted—and which probably would continue -their advance to the attack, of our second line of defense, with the -whole strength of the German corps. I glanced about me. Some overturned -bushes lay at the side of the hole, and instinctively I seized them to -ambuscade my refuge.</p> - -<p>I crouched—perhaps a derisive observer would have said I -squatted—closely within the lowest recess of the accidental -excavation, and drew after me, with all the caution my necessity and -impatience permitted, the withered and prickly bushes—a hawthorn -bramble—so that, like a cowering rabbit in its warren, I awaited -the rapidly nearing host of the Germans. Luckily the excavation was -somewhat removed from their direct approach, and formed so obvious and -considerable a feature in the ground, that the platoons would avoid -it, or at the worst jump over it. Nearer and nearer came the clamorous -companies, and the heavy tramp of their feet, beating in unison the -stubbled field, made my heart beat too with an insistent rapidity.</p> - -<p>Now they were passing my tiny screen. I could hear their laughter -and the occasional rough sallies of their voices. The line seemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> -endless. Just dimly through the interlaced twigs and dirt encumbered -branches of the hawthorn, I could actually catch a broken view of the -massive column. The horrible thought of one of the soldiers, through -an inadvertence, or from the crowding of the lines, falling into my -dug-out, sent the blood whirring through my veins and bathed me in -perspiration. I drew my revolver. It might be a straggler, and, if -just one man, the weapon would serve completely for my protection. -I shuddered at the awful chance. This extremity was worse than the -indiscriminate and generalized murder of the battlefield.</p> - -<p>Then just as this suspense almost throttled my breathing, the whole -line rested, and there above me—I could see their strong figures, -their gray coats, even the gleam of their <i>pickelhaubes</i>—the babel -of conversation broke out in incoherent gurglings of German. Another -instant and the order might be given to break ranks, to camp, and my -screen might serve, practically enough, to light a fire, or even the -hole be selected as a preeminently good substitute for a hearth. Smoked -and roasted out then it would be!</p> - -<p>No, the line moved again, with the unintermittent trudge of the -hundreds of booted feet, now and then the clangor of a sword, now and -then the whish of grazing coats, and always a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> certain observed but -indescribable hum of rapidly passing bodies. Then came silence—no -more?—could it be possible? In my hole the light had grown dimmer -and dimmer, and while it was no prudent criterion of the time of day -above me, still I felt sure—for I had counted the seconds elapsing -as the battalion swept over me—that the night drew near, and -then—deliverance.</p> - -<p>At first I scarcely dared to stir, fearing the betrayal of my retreat -by the animated bush which I would raise above me. But after a long -wait, while the light sensibly failed, I cautiously crowded what I -could of it, <i>the bush</i>, beside me, and surmounting it, at length was -able to peer out of the hole, and note the opportunities for my escape. -It was very dark, the night threatened to be stormy, and the rising -wind prevented my distinctly hearing sounds about me, if anyone was in -the vicinity. Slowly with the finest sense of carefulness and stealth, -I crawled to the lip of the shallow pit, and rose above it, and stood -up, achingly relieving my sharply disabled limb.</p> - -<p>"<i>Sind gefangen</i>;" the voice was at my side, and a shadow accompanied -it. But I was quicker than its groping arms or hands, quicker than the -gun or sword, or whatever else it seized for my despatch. I jumped at -the black body with my revolver trigger snapped back, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> pressed the -muzzle upon the now rampant body, that grappled with me, and discharged -it. The report was almost inaudible, and the sound of the falling -German, as he dropped lifeless into the pit, that had sheltered me, -was hardly more than a dull thud. What was about me? was the enemies' -circuit here on every side? I hesitated for a moment. There came no -sound of rescue. The topography of the country I knew well. Far—about -a half a mile—to the right as you looked westward, was a road leading -directly to a village that was in the rear of the second line of our -defense. That road I would reach if I could. It was the simplest—to -me the only—issue of salvation. I turned quickly aside and fell to -the ground. My leg pained me, and seemed almost incapable of movement. -Lying there I swung my head about to discover what objects surrounded -me. In the night-light, almost absent, I could discern nothing, and -taking the risk as there was no other alternative I abandoned the idea -of walking to the road, over the rough field, and began slowly to crawl -in its direction. The sense of direction was infallible with me, and -I had not the slightest doubt of my position. Of course the Germans -might by this time have swarmed over the whole area, but that they had -not yet attacked the second line of our defense seemed certain as I -had heard no firing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> Both sides awaited the morning. The Germans were -there, no doubt, but farther to the east.</p> - -<p>I canvassed these conditions while I crawled over the stinging -grass-stubble, and at intervals waded through water holes and muddy -banks. Now the ground was rising. I had attained the further side of -the broad field, and was surmounting a hillslope beyond which ran the -little road that would conduct me to safety. Well, I shall not rehearse -the mingling feelings of dread and relief, of quick suspense and then -exulting certainty, that I experienced, on that dismal trip on my hands -and knees all the way to the village. For only at intervals was it -possible for me to use my injured leg that increased in helplessness as -I went on. I reached the village, and the first man I encountered on -its outskirts was the man who had been next to me in the line of battle.</p> - -<p>We were dislodged from our position, and the weary retreat towards -Paris continued. I still stayed with the army, and I was in one other -fight, when my leg had somewhat regained its usefulness. It was then -that I was wounded, then that my soul most revolted against the -barbarity of War.</p> - -<p>We were in a village near the Marne, when the Germans attacked the -place. We had thrown up strong barricades at the end of the main -street, from which every vestige of life had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> departed except—I recall -the whimsical observation—that a black cat still crouched upon the -narrow window sill of an upper window of one of the little houses. The -Germans with their usual intrepidity and singular tenacity of habit -were expected to move down upon us in solid formation, and our guns -would receive them—we thought—with the almost certain decision of -their repulse. I was next to a gunner whose impatience to start the -fearful havoc was unrestrained. He kept muttering between his teeth.</p> - -<p>"<i>Sacre Bleu! Pas encore! Pas encore! Les scelerats; Pourquoi ne -venaient-ils pas?</i>"</p> - -<p>He did not have long to wait. At the head of the street, with shouts -and the loud beating of near-by drums, the Boches came on, almost as -if maneuvering upon a field of drill-practice. I was compelled to -admire their stolid impervious confidence and fearlessness. Down the -deserted alley of houses they rushed, and from behind them swung upward -with stunning reports exploding shells, intended for our discomfiture. -But the range was imperfect, and they fell beyond our position. I -trembled with expectation—the advance of the enemy, so determinedly -forceful, with the ranks close pressed in dense crowds, promised an -awful disillusion. Our captain warned against any premature discharge. -He would give the word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> On the bristling lines swung, massively -compacted, like some human battering ram, and when I could almost see -the buttons on their gray coats the order came.</p> - -<p>It was a <i>whisper</i>, and the next instant the machine guns spouted, and -each soldier braced himself for the charge that might follow the foe's -disorder, with fixed bayonet. That was a hideous moment. The bodies -of the slain Germans piled high before the oncoming ranks, and from -side to side of the street—now become a veritable slaughter-pen—the -heaving mass still unrelentingly pressed over their dismembered and -fallen comrades. It was the veriest depth of hell. I awaited the next -word to charge, and it seemed to me incredible that I could urge myself -to do the deed, running the cold steel of the bayonet into quivering -flesh. Later like a flash this detachment passed, and the frenzy of -the moment blinded me to everything, but the fierce desire to destroy -our invaders. I waited. The machine guns unceasingly hissed, and they -shook with the uninterrupted intensity of their working. I watched in -a delirium of satisfaction their ravages. Arms and hands, even heads, -severed as if cut with a knife, flew into the air, and yet the flood of -humans, with not-to-be-denied insistency, rose to our barricade, and in -another breath would overwhelm us.</p> - -<p>Then came the order "<i>Charge</i>" and over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> barricade with set -bayonets—I as best I might—our companies leaped and dashed into the -baying pack before us, with the shrivelling terror of the cold steel. -The Germans did not like the treatment. The machine guns were withdrawn -under the protection of this assault, and while we stemmed the tide, -for an instant, it was for an instant only. No effective pressure we -could then summon, would withstand the leviathan movement of those -belted Prussians. The shells too were finding us out, and we yielded. -A German officer cut down with his sword the brave gunner who had -so intemperately desired their approach. He was severed almost from -shoulder to waist. But he was avenged. I rushed upon the miscreant—so -he seemed to me—and pierced his neck with the bayonet in my hands. -There were no misgivings then, no secondary thoughts, not even the -transient survival of my sickening sense of faintness at the sight of -blood. I was acquiring the war-hardening that accompanies incessant -Murder.</p> - -<p>We fell back from the position in fairly good shape, and soon were -reinforced by new regiments, and then by artillery, and mortars, and, -as the battle widened, with more and more success on our side, we -checked the invasion, and soon were overmastering the invaders. At -length they fled, and the whole line swept on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>ward, while fresh men -strode into the footsteps of their predecessors and Joffre won the -Battle of the Marne.</p> - -<p>It was then that I was shot in the breast and shoulder, and fell -heavily on my head against a roadside pile of stone. I lay directly -in the way of the Red-Cross men—those blessed gleaners of the -wounded—and so was quickly carried to safety.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></p> - -<p class="center">GABRIELLE'S VISITATION</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">It</span> was the day after the battle of the Marne that as I lay in a -Red-Cross ambulance, one of an endless line making a slow progress to -Paris, past packed masses of soldiery, parks of artillery, ammunition -vans, hay wagons, meat carts buried in straw, commissariat busses—many -of them English, still pasted with placards of coffee-houses, groceries -and smoking tobacco, that a letter was brought to me by the orderly -attached to our company of wagons. How well I recall his grimed face -and the blood-stains on his white surtout! The letter was marked -"<i>urgente</i>" and also "<i>par permission de le chef-major de corps -d'hôpital</i>." The young orderly was gay with the pleasure of bringing me -a note from home—"<i>Que vous serez heureux; le mot de la femme et les -petites</i>!" The innocent salutation stabbed deeper than had the sabre of -the Teuton giant. My eyes started, and the pang passed. The cheerful -greeting was as some taunting whisper hissed in my ears, but—alas—how -well meant!—<i>bien entendu</i>.</p> - -<p>I recognized Gabrielle's hand-writing. I held the letter unopened, and -my flaccid nerves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> scarcely measured its meaning. Ah! it seemed to me -now almost a light matter what happened. The horrors and depths of -pitiless sufferings I had been through had stunned my susceptibilities, -and any added blow fell on a sensorium become rigid, or simply -pulseless with shock. At length my hand, mechanically almost, opened -the letter, and if it was unsteady it was the tremor of weakness only. -My blurred eyes read it as they might have uncertainly read a sign on -the street. And yet there was intelligence still remaining in them. My -heart beat faster, my eyes closed a moment, while a puny pain like a -shooting neuralgic ache, somewhere about my heart too, pierced me, and -then my lips moved in a whisper—<i>Dieu defende</i>.</p> - -<p>But indeed it was with me as with an eye fatigued with flashes, that -sees no longer, or sees everything fantastically. I read the letter and -laughed. The mild manner of a death—even the death of a father and -mother—in their own bed, by its luminous contrast with this manifold -Dance of Death in which I had shared, where Death nakedly came out of -the air, and shot you, or impaled you, or stifled you, where things -worse—<i>Ah! miserable</i>—than death happened, seemed almost benignant. -It won an enviable distinction. And, for the meaning of it all, the -disclosure of Death seemed itself now an admirable escape. Conception -with me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> had become so darkened by excitation, that in the black -background of consciousness, the loss of a father or of a mother, -created no discernible image.</p> - -<p>And yet—a few minutes later, as I read again the letter—crushed -into a ball in my hand—a natural recreation of sensibility terrified -me by its acute punishments. I cried out in a kind of fury, and -then I wept. My nerves went to pieces. I was delirious. That raging -tempest of madness lasted three days. I was taken to Paris. There -in a well appointed hospital in the Faubourg Saint Antoine, I was -treated with the most happy kindness, and there my sister came to see -me and to nurse me, and by that incommunicable power of sweetness -and sympathy—wherein too lurked the kindred genius of our common -parentage—she restored me to sanity, and the broken strained mind was -healed and fitted—as it were—together again, and the extinguished -candle of reason relit. Those were days of infinite bliss. It was -something wonderful indeed to be present and observant of one's own -regeneration. Yet so it seemed. A consciousness, feeble and complacent, -but always delighted, noted the return of another master-consciousness -to the control of its despoiled and scattered properties, and in noting -it, was willing to fade itself away, or re-enter its mysterious hidden -realm of feeling.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> - -<p>And then I grew to so love Gabrielle. It was a sense of recreation, -of absolute reference of a second birth to her power. She assumed a -spiritual maternity before my eyes, and enrolled like some nucleal -miniature of divinity within my soul. She walked before my seeing eyes -an Angel of Grace. My bed lay in a separate room, quite apart from -the general dormitory, wherein the crowded cots held the anguished -sufferers from the battle fields, now forwarding their daily harvest -of wounded, in thicker and thicker bunches. It was an unsolicited -privilege but one granted through the benevolent insistence of the -superintending surgeon. Its window looked out of the back of the -hospital over a broken prospect of high chimneys, peaked walls, and -balustraded roofs. Points of color flamed here and there, where -jardinieres still bloomed on the window-sills, or where a tricolor, -in wreaths of bunting, festooned the near and far piazzas. Dull -surfaces of drab rose to parapeted balconies, and in a side-long -glimpse I could see the tree-lined boulevard of ——. Above the -mingled edges and angles an autumn sky laughed and wept, now flushed -with delicate primrose, when the sunset closed the day, and now, -for days too, drearily gray with inexpressive and moisture dropping -clouds. The room was prettily set with some plain furniture—a bureau -and a table covered with green baize,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> a cuvette and a few chairs. -The shining floor, in the light, mirrored the furniture, and in it -too were reflected the three pictures that decorated the walls. -Gabrielle had put these pictures where they were, and they were all -religious. One a Madonna, one a Christ, and the third the new Pope. -The walls were faintly <i>rougeatre</i> and from the middle of the ceiling -hung an electrolier. That made the place at night gay with light. -It seemed to me a little corner of Heaven. Was it not so, after all -I had seen and been through? But I felt the sting of self-reproach, -when my thoughts traveled back to the desolate comrades on the shell -splintered, shrapnel haunted, bullet riddled field, there far away at -the front—and not indeed so far away either.</p> - -<p>Here Gabrielle nursed me, her pale face and sunken eyes were ominous -symptoms of her own failing strength—and here she told me of my -parents' deaths. It had a mysterious fore-ordained simplicity, and, as -it were, a naturalness. It seemed just a going out, as one would leave -a room, or pass through a door, and enter upon the world beyond. Father -and mother were stricken with the hand of that hovering paralysis that -had followed them for some time, and the achieving blow fell upon them -both as they lay in the morning, in their bed, conversing. Even their -thoughts had dwelt at that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> very instant upon the inevitable end, and -the light flame of life was snuffed out even as their hands crossed, -and the smile of a mutual resignation bathed their faces in hope and -confidence.</p> - -<p>This news brought to me no added misery—no, no, rather a strange -placidity of contentment. For in that region of experience wherein I -wandered along the borders of the great darkling ocean of Eternity, -I felt the intervening space of life, between this existence and the -next, to be of a transient and incomputable narrowness. The luxury of a -gentle inanition overcame me, and so unevenly did the spark of life at -times flutter in its cage, that I was unaware exactly whether I lived, -or had begun to float otherwhere on an uncharted sea.</p> - -<p>Slowly everything rectified itself, and then Grief came, and -realization, and reproach, and memory started its accusative course, -and I bewailed the impotence and forgetfulness of my pallid rectitude. -My filial uses had not been energetic enough, nor altogether wakeful. -That I knew.</p> - -<p>Thus between the relapses of my sorrow, and the soothing influence of -Gabrielle, I leaned more and more upon my sister, and, by a subjection -of will and emotion, caught her frame of mind, her tincture of -spiritualized enthusiasm. I now come to the very nucleus and meaning, -the very heart and life of this story—the longed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> for confession and -explanation which two worlds have waited for, the marvellous tale -of a young woman's intervention with the unnumbered dead, and their -disembodied re-entrance in the world to stay the earth's destroying -plague of War. To tell finally how in the agony of her sublime -assumption, to bring this to pass, my sister's soul left her body, and -withdrew in the wake of that vast ascension of spirits, to the Eternal -Sphere of the Immortals.</p> - -<p>I had reached successfully the last stage of convalescence. My -recovery had been stubbornly contested by the militant eager sprites -of disease which somewhere lurked within me. I had only "come round," -as the English say, slowly, with veerings and retreats, that kept -Gabrielle miserably anxious. When I was at last able to leave my -bed and sit up—sitting up in a Morris chair, most capacious and -comfortable—Gabrielle came to me one afternoon, when the white -radiance of the glorious day might cancel the unearthly shock and -the ghostly melancholy of her story, and almost kneeling at my side -repeated her incredible and wondrous confession.</p> - -<p>"Alfred, I have something very strange to tell you. Something that has -been happening for some time, and seems to grow more frequent as this -awful war—<i>cette guerre desesperant</i>—goes on.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> For it has to do with -it—with the war. You want to hear it, surely?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I replied, "Gabrielle, I do indeed. Is it some of the visits -again from the other world which we agreed should be discontinued?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Alfred, it is," Gabrielle looked up at me with a scrutiny -of wistful, almost beseeching ardor, and as I remained silent she -continued, "Alfred, the DEAD come back to me! They speak to me. Oh, -more than that, they throng my room, and in my ears sounds the endless -wailing of their prayers."</p> - -<p>"Prayers?" I repeated, aroused now into a sudden repulsion of these -renewed surrenders to the old-time madness.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Alfred, <i>Prayers</i>. I do not hear them now in Paris, but at -St. Choiseul the night long they have assailed my ears with piteous -prayers. I have endured it without confiding it to anyone, the dreadful -matter, but I have so wanted to tell you."</p> - -<p>"But Gabrielle, why do you surrender to this delusion? It will wear -you to death. Ah sister, be very careful. We are alone in this great -world now, and you are everything to me. These nightmares will turn -your reason, unhinge your strength. Put them all to flight as you did -before."</p> - -<p>"Ah, Alfred it is different now—much different. Really the old visions -were soft and gentle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> and pleasant, and I accepted them as pictures -almost of lovely beings, happy and serene and sympathetic. But these -are so dreadful. At first I screamed with terror at them or just shrank -into myself and shuddered. I did put them to flight, Alfred. I begged -Julie to sleep in the room with me, and then they never came. But just -to see what it all meant I tried several times to sleep alone and the -things came thicker and faster as the war went on. I resisted my fear, -but the misery of these wounded and broken spirits—as it was shown to -me—was killing me. I once more drove them all away by getting Julie to -come to my room. One night Julie awoke me and said there was someone -or something in the room. We started up in the bed, and looked about -the room, and then that light you once saw came again, but no figure, -just a wonderful shimmering of threads of mellow light, traced through -the air of the room, and flowing out of the open window like skeins of -smoke caught in a draught. Julie clutched me and cried, and her voice -broke the spell—if spell it was—the light vanished and nothing more -happened that night."</p> - -<p>"How long has this been going on?" I asked in suspense, in half -incredulity.</p> - -<p>"It began after the first days of the war. But at first the voices -were indistinct, and the visions vague and shadowy. I did not mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> -that. I thought it would wear off, and the spirits go away. They did -for a while, but after the battle of Mons suddenly at night I saw an -awful picture, not the battle field, but the ascending shades drifting -upward from it like innumerable specks of vapor. Ah Alfred, how shall I -describe it? I seemed to be carried there. It was a dream, and yet it -was full of reality to me, and the ground, the wrecked villages, the -streets strewn with the dead and dying, were all half hidden; sometimes -in the dream altogether erased, by the multitudes of the shades going -on, and on, and on, up and up, and up, in smoky masses, with faces and -limbs spectral and ghostly, like some vast current of fog shaped into -human forms."</p> - -<p>"Well," I groaned, "what next?"</p> - -<p>"I awoke, and there was nothing—nothing—but an hour later the voices -were resumed and they murmured and murmured, and words now and then -were understood, like 'Have Mercy'—'Oh God my wife'—'My home,' and -then furious words like blasphemies. Ah Alfred, it was terrible," and -the woman hid her face in my lap and shook convulsively.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, my sister, how have you gone through with all this misery? -Our father and mother dead, and these horrible visitations! I must get -well quickly and together we will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> go to St. Choiseul, and then I can -see for myself if such things can be."</p> - -<p>"Can be, Alfred? You do not doubt me, do you? I am indeed telling you -the very truth, and you will wound me to the heart if you think that I -have been deluded, or am deceiving you."</p> - -<p>Her loving, tender eyes were filled with the tears of remonstrance. I -seized her arms, and brought her to my breast, and embraced and kissed -her, whispering with all the devotion of my soul, "No Gabrielle, I know -that these things have, in their way, happened, and that your tired -senses and strained nerves may have actually created them, worn out as -we all are with this grievous trial. And the <i>Prayers</i>, darling. What -were they when they were intelligible? Could you make them out—tell -me."</p> - -<p>"At first I could only recognize them as supplications by the imploring -voices, and then later they often became distinguishable as short cries -for help and mercy, and deliverance, and then short staccato calls, as -if from madness, insanity, brutality, unrighteousness. Lately and here -in Paris I have not heard them, and I control myself better—" the last -words were spoken by my sister hesitatingly, or at least slowly, as if -she felt unwilling to utter them. I noticed the indecision at once.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What is it, Gabrielle—your control? Have you yielded to the old -temptation—the feeling that you wished to summon the DEAD?"</p> - -<p>"Alfred," the voice was very low, and Gabrielle cast her eyes down, as -if depressed by some unwonted shame of contrition; "Alfred, although -I say that I exert no power to open the communications with the -spirit world, yet I believe that in some unconscious way I actually -summon these to me. Watching myself in the voluntary movements of my -mind, I detect at times that without my volition, my mind assumes the -mediumistic poise, as the books say. I am ashamed of it, and I think -it is wicked. That makes me dread these visions for, perhaps, they are -simply satanic. Oh what shall I do?"</p> - -<p>Poor girl, worn out with service, beaten to the earth with sorrow, -and now devitalized, unwillingly surrendering herself to the—to -me—abhorrent power she seemed endowed with, to materialize the dead, -and converse with the other side of the veil of life! The refuge of -my partnership with her of these secrets was an immense relief. I -gathered together my strength, and forced the laugh to my lips, and -the merry words to my lips also, for her sake. Thus, with a deepening -mutual absorption in each other, brother and sister grew inseparable in -feeling and in thought and in affections.</p> - -<p>It was almost three weeks later that I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> permitted to leave the -hospital, and return with my sister to St. Choiseul. It was a return -strangely mingling the accents of sorrow, with the notes of a sudden -joy. The autumn lights were beautiful, and the darkening vineyards, -and the striped hop poles, the yet radiant gladiolus and the glancing -lustres of the streams, the long peaceful perspectives, unsullied -by war, the romantic cluster of the ivy coated ruins of the chateau -towards Briois, the winding road, the straight sentinel line of -poplars, and the unchanged village—empty and silent perhaps—crowning -the slow ascent, bathed in the soft atmosphere of dewy sweetness—<i>Mon -Dieu</i>, it almost made me swoon away with ecstacy!</p> - -<p>And here at our doorway, was the little circle, Père Antoine, Père -Grandin, the <i>Capitaine</i>, and Privat Deschat, Hortense, and Julie, and -the pale faded loveliness of the orphan girl, Dora, but no father or -mother was there. The tears rose to my eyes; it was impossible to check -their almost unnoticed flow.</p> - -<p>I fell into their arms. I kissed them all. I was half swooning with the -pain of my affection.</p> - -<p>"My son, how good it is to see you again, the vampire has not swallowed -you up—<i>Dieu soit benit</i>;" that was Père Antoine.</p> - -<p>"Ah Alfred, you see the plague has not touched us yet—the desecrating -fiends were near. Yes, they were seen east of Briois—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>foraging, And -you? Well? You look grave. Ah! it is not a time for smiles;" that was -Père Grandin.</p> - -<p>"Alfred, where are the Boches now? Where? <i>Ma foi</i> it is not this -time as it was in '70. You shall tell us all. It is <i>un histoire -magnifique</i>. The flag is supreme;" that was the <i>Capitaine</i>.</p> - -<p>"<i>Maître</i> Alfred, you must not leave us again. <i>Souvenez vous</i>—I will -make the <i>galette aux amandes chaque jour</i>? Eh? You will not go away -again?" that was Hortense.</p> - -<p>They all laughed a little. But Hortense wiped her eyes with her broad -apron.</p> - -<p>"Ah Gabrielle, we have been unhappy without you—all of us. Never, -<i>never</i>, shall you go away again—OR—you take me with you, and the -<i>Capitaine</i>;" that was Dora, and her pallid face, with the serious -eyes, haunted now always with sorrow, the expressive index of her -life's tragedy, flushed ever so slightly, and her arms were flung about -my sister's neck, and she was caught again by Gabrielle, in her own -blessed arms of reassurance and protection.</p> - -<p>"Well Alfred, we are all traveling the same road together now. Death -walks at everyone's side. But they who have died on the battlefield, -they have sown in their own ashes the seeds of Redemption." And the -speaker's voice rose, so that we felt startled at its suddenness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> -"They will yet fight as avenging spirits. They are about us now. When -Heaven is too full of them they will descend, and destroy the enemy. -<i>La Patrie</i> is Eternal;" <i>that</i> was Privat Deschat.</p> - -<p>This last apostrophe awkwardly dampened the moment's happiness, and we -went into the house slowly and silently, as if to the summons of an -obsequy. When Deschat mentioned the descending spirits I saw Gabrielle -quail and draw Dora to her side in a trembling spasm of alarm.</p> - -<p>Slowly we entered the house. I shuddered in a momentary realization -that its master and mistress were no longer sanctioning its -hospitality. But how peaceful and comforting it all was! I felt -embraced by the manifold tendernesses of form and picture and color and -furnishment. Around the table of the dining room that evening in the -cheerful splendor of the old oil lamp, with the shadows, grotesquely -friendly, moving over the walls, we sat together, while Hortense and -Julie outdid themselves in overloading the table with <i>les pièces -precieuses de la cuisine</i>. I hardly dared to taste these delicacies. -It seemed a profanation. Those suffering patient men at the front, so -often almost starving! It was an impiety against patriotism to feast so -lavishly.</p> - -<p>I touched almost nothing, buried in sombre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> memories. The regalement -was darkened by my abrupt disillusionment, and I could not easily -rehearse my experience. I begged them to excuse me—another time I -would go through it all, but just then—Ah surely they understood. -There were so many reasons for hesitation, for suspense, for -silence. They were most sympathetic, and I, who was to have been the -<i>raconteur</i>, sat now almost moodily amongst them, and listened to the -news of the neighborhood, as one and the other kept up the trivial -narration.</p> - -<p>How the Uhlans had been seen by little Mimette Collot prancing along a -highway toward Cabrelet, how the thunders from the constant attrition -eastward, between the armies, had kept them all awake at night; how the -English soldiers had visited them and they had turned their pantries -inside out to welcome and refresh them; how a <i>taube</i> had wheeled and -droned above them, like some colossal bumble bee, and how it dropped -one bomb in a pasturage, and had killed a young mother cow and her -calf; how good Mother Webbe—she at the crossroads where you go east -toward Landrecies and Mons—had given a young English soldier on a -motorcycle a full glass of <i>vin de prunes</i>, and he had fallen from his -cycle along the roadside "dead-drunk"—<i>un ivrogne jusque mort</i>—; the -dear soul had thought it was only <i>vin ordinaire</i>;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> how the men had -deserted the country-side to enlist, and the old men and the women, the -boys and girls, had taken their places; how the Diligence had a woman -driver now, and how she dressed in man's clothes, and how bitter she -was with the horses, just to seem more mannish—<i>comme un homme</i>.</p> - -<p>They told how the troops had filled the roads moving eastward, and -with them the long files of ambulances, of ammunition vans, of cannon -carriages; how when the news came of our victory the church bells were -rung, bonfires were made in the streets, and processions of boys and -girls went up and down the roads singing the Marseillaise.</p> - -<p>But somehow the spirit of our reunion dragged and drooped, and I -suppose it was all my fault. The oppression of despair had seized me. I -could not escape a sense of doom, not exactly my own, or the country's, -but some vague awfulness of desolation, approaching with black -pestilence—breathing power, to desecrate and ravage the earth. It kept -me dumb. And all of this uneasy and ungracious apathy or morose grief, -had developed since I entered the house—where at first the happiness -of refuge seemed so inexpressible.</p> - -<p>When I bade them "Good night," I said some stumbling words about my -disappointment with myself, and promised to make amends. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> needed -rest. My body and soul, my mind were ill at ease. And so they left me, -that clear star-lit night as the rising wind, threatening frosts or -snow, rocketed upward with gusty roars from the house-tops, and rushed -away with a wail that almost sounded to me as the incorporeal echo of -those ravenous moans and cries, those palpitating shrieks, that I had -heard sweep across the battlefield, and that, as the hours waned died -away in death.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I recovered my strength but slowly, and there were recurrent lapses -into periods of frightful depression, nervousness, and I fear -irritability, that tried the devoted soul of Gabrielle, who remained -unchanged in her devotion, and unceasing in her soothing ministrations. -We often talked about the strange apparitions, and the voices, and the -weaving and winnowed lights, but there was no return to Gabrielle of -these visitations. She had gained in strength, her old time loveliness -of face bloomed again, and, delighted with my companionship, she -withheld—if indeed they assaulted her at all, or essayed to—the -disembodied souls. Gabrielle was utterly transparent and confessed -everything. I know that for at least seven months, there literally was -no return of the manifestations. Because they seemed to have vanished -entirely we permitted ourselves to talk them over freely,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> and it -amused me. The terrifying thought though often arose, in the minds of -both of us, that the discharged multitudes of spirits, shot almost -into eternity, clung to the earth. Their gathering increasing shades -haunted the loved earth, and their affections, somehow still retained -for the living, nursed in them a rising anger at the continuance of the -slaughters.</p> - -<p>For the war went on; west and east the perpetual deluge of shells and -shrapnel and bullets, the surges of poisonous gases, the savagery -of assassination, and the cruelty of the bayonet, were emptying -homes, thinning the ranks, and draining the country of its best, its -strongest, men. And now came the trench lines; the insinuating deep -gutters in the earth, worming themselves this way and that, here in -unutterable perplexity of entrance and exit, there more simple, running -on with occasional dug-outs and bomb-proof dungeons, cellar-like -dismal caverns of darkness, humidity, and sickness. Stuck in them -at various intervals were the platoons of shooting men, the hunters -after other men's lives, quick, almost instinctive in their scent of -opportunity, almost wolfish in their ample placidity of intention to -take those other men's lives, if they could reach them. The long lines -of subterranean fortification, stretching, with irregular intervals of -defenselessness, like broad gaps in a strong fence, swept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> over fields, -and up hills, and over rivers, and through villages, junketed ever and -anon with ruins, shattered homes, or burrowing like the entrails of -a corrupting cancer under churches, and massing hither and thither, -in coils of black and muddy gashes, like the redoubled and tangled -intestines of an animal.</p> - -<p>Here went on the daily work of murder, helped by the batteries, and -at propitious moments intensified into the uttermost diabolism by the -whine, scream, and tear of shells, the detonations of shrapnel, and the -thudding din of cannon, the whipping, ping-pong hiss of bullets. And -following that splenetic outburst the sudden bolt forward of regiments -of men might follow; headlong charges, frenzied rushes, dashes through -a hail of shot, men tumbling this way and that, wounded, dying, dead, -and then the ferocity of bodily collision with stabs from bayonets, and -slashes from swords and all in a tense silence, save for the oppressed -suspiration, the swish of brushing bodies pinned to each other, a -momentary cry of pain, smothered objurgations.</p> - -<p>Over the wavering line of lethal burrows, high in the air, swung or -raced the bird-like combatants of the French and the Germans, their -shadows sometimes thrown upon a cloud, sometimes drifting over the -ground in a grotesque patch—a mere spot perhaps—of gray. Thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> the -mortal combat sullied the pure air with its disorder. Up to those armed -fliers rose the stark stenches of the earth—the smell of unburied -corpses—and their eagle eyes looked down upon long stretches of torn -mud flats, ploughed by missiles, dreary plains of desolation, beaten -into a black and brown hideousness of confused holes and gaping rents, -gouged out hillsides, heaped mounds of fantastic earth, stippled -everywhere with the half hidden bodies of the dead.</p> - -<p>From Ostend to Arras, from Arras to Maubeuge, from Maubeuge to Vouzier, -the indented, buried, smoking furrows of human explosives stretched its -weary length, concealing armies; hiding, in its ambuscades and pits and -mines, volcanoes of ammunition, a vast aneurism draining two nations of -their life and substance. What was a half stifled combat here in the -east in Galicia and in Poland was a fiercer conflict, and from there -as from here—in the west—each hour sent to some home the stab of -bereavement.</p> - -<p>I could not return to my work. Recurrent chills and nervous breakdowns, -constantly augmented by the horrible agony of this insufferable crime, -kept my mind weakened, my body helpless.</p> - -<p>It was a little more than seven months after the repulse of the -invaders at the Battle of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> Marne, that the strange symptoms of the -spirit visitation that had troubled Gabrielle returned with appalling -violence. The spring about St. Choiseul had filled the hills and the -valleys with a wonderful beauty, more entrancing because the season had -prevailed with rain, and this had imbued the skies with a fascinating -vaporousness, which, suffused with sunlight, made the picture about -us in the lowlands so lovely in its grace and clinging softness of -light and shades. This sweet peacefulness made the horrid nightmare -of the war, only a few miles away, more unbearable and hateful. How -often that spring Gabrielle and I sat out on the porch late into the -night, amid the renewed fragrance of the flowers, the rising chorus of -the insect and tree life, murmuring in field and stream and wood and -along the grassy edges of the highway, talking over the miseries of our -dear land! Gabrielle had worn herself to skin and bone—as the English -say—with her work in the hospital at Paris, and now together, both -melancholy and disabled, we lingered long in thoughtful communion on -what the meaning and upshot of this unwearied struggle might be.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was about the middle of April, 1915, that late at night—it -might have been after midnight—as I read in my room some late reports -and personal letters from the front, my door—the one leading from my -room into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> Gabrielle's, opened, and my sister appeared at the entrance, -in her night dress. In her face was a wild, startled look, as of one -who had been surprised in her sleep by some awful dream, and yet -trembled under the malign shock.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle," I cried, myself moved to the outcry by her famished, -stricken, hunted look, "What is it? Are you ill?"</p> - -<p>She did not answer at once, but stole towards me with a wavering -stealthiness, as of one escaping from a pursuer. When she was at my -side—I had leaped to my feet in consternation and alarm—she flung -her arms around my neck, and in a choking whisper, that half audible -mixture of breathing and utterance which betokens physical and nervous -exhaustion, said:</p> - -<p>"Alfred, the spirits are here again, and they crowd my room; they -are filling this room now. Don't you feel them? Have you seen, felt, -heard nothing? They are the ghosts of the slain—I know it, for they -tell me so, and their faces are so imploring—They ask me to stop the -war. They tell me—" her voice grew stronger, and in the rush of her -emotion and excitement the words followed faster and faster, but still -her voice was a whisper only—"They tell me I can help. And O! Alfred -their cry for Mercy is piteous. They feel the pain of those who have -lost them—whom they have lost too. A voice came to my ears, clear and -calm:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> 'Help us! Help us! Our sadness is yours. We wished to live. -Death for us is wrong—too soon—too soon—too soon;' and then it died -away, like a fading bell-note, far, far away. And Alfred the voice -sounded to me like Sebastien's. O! Alfred there are others too—and -some—" she shuddered in my arms, and clasped me convulsively, as if -the pain of the recollection were too great to bear.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle," I answered, now aroused and almost terrified, "stay here. -Are you quite well? The morning must soon break. Rest on my bed. We -will watch it out. And—and—perhaps Gabrielle it will be best for us -to leave this strange, bewitched place." My voice was loud. Its very -loudness seemed to reassure her.</p> - -<p>She released my arms, and controlling herself sank into the armchair I -had risen from. She pressed her hands to her brows and her eyes closed. -A moment later she opened them, looked steadfastly at me, then turned, -without rising, and looked about the room in a dazed scrutiny, as if -searching for something. Her wandering eyes returned to my face. I bent -suddenly in surprise towards her. She was smiling. The staggering fancy -crossed my mind that Gabrielle might have lost her reason. Anguish and -despair and sympathy had spread madness and dementia throughout France -already, that I knew.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Alfred they have gone; how wonderful! Your loud words cleared the room -of the crowding host. Alfred it <i>was</i> a host. I felt their presence -before I woke. But they come like air; they vanish as darkness vanishes -at the touch of day."</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, no more of it now. No. Rest. Sleep. I will sit up and -read. I have letters to write to men at the front, in the trenches -whom I know, who know me, who expect to hear from me. I have packed a -wagon-load of things for these brave boys, and it goes to the front -tomorrow. I wish I could go with it. But—"</p> - -<p>"No Alfred—O! No!—not now! Do not leave me. Some strange powers are -working, and in the voices I have heard I feel the approach of a vast -spiritual finale."</p> - -<p>"Why, Gabrielle, what do you mean? Stay. No more of it tonight. My -brusqueness has chased them away. If a little noise scares these -mockers, I can always furnish that."</p> - -<p>I laughed and chided my sister for her seriousness. But Gabrielle -rebuked me. I rebuked myself. A strange oppressive and yet merciful -theory was shaping itself in my mind. I apprehended that a mysterious -supernatural power might be summoned to end the war. And—Yes, so I -thought—Gabrielle might be its protagonist and avatar.</p> - -<p>I helped my sister to my bed, and when she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> again had regained her -cheerfulness, and welcome sleep—that chrism of the Almighty to vexed -hearts and minds—closed her eyes, I resumed my work. The silence was -the very enclosure of the grave. But then it was like the grave in -nothing else. The spring air, dewy, warm, perfumed, entered the room, -and once or twice when I looked out of the window the shimmering stars -shone in a velvet night over a world buried in slumber. All of the -gentle twitterings and murmurs of the night seemed stilled. I think I -fell asleep myself, for I awoke with a strange, a most benumbing sense -of confinement, of restraint that I could not define, but perhaps was -most easily compared to an immersion in some high pressure atmosphere. -I felt suffocated. I sprang to my feet. The lamp was flickering as -if about to go out, but its light fell on my watch, which recorded -the hour as 2:30 past midnight. Someone stood at my side. I felt the -presence, as we instinctively do—a cognition like a telepathy. It -was Gabrielle again. Her face was pale and her eyes gazed, as if in -a spell, upon the space above my head; her hands gropingly rested -now on my arm. I waited for her to speak, and almost immediately the -flickering flame of the lamp expired. We were in darkness.</p> - -<p>But we were not <i>alone</i>. Some kinesthetic sense made me aware of -beings, entities, exis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>tencies, about me. I yielded to the impression -that a peculiar nervous excitation, a thrilled expectancy, as though -the next instant some miracle of strangeness would befall me, was due -to this influence of an invisible flood of spirits, or souls, or what -you will, that had invaded the room. It was Gabrielle's voice that -spoke in my ears, it was her arms again that encircled my neck.</p> - -<p>"Alfred, again! They are all about us; and Alfred," the voice sank to a -whisper, "the spirit of Sebastien Quintado is here too."</p> - -<p>I could not restrain the impetuous cry that broke from my lips. -Perhaps, were it rightly interpreted, it was fear, the sudden effort -to restore some balance of sanity in the madness of a nightmare, that -forced this outburst. I only knew that I almost shouted:</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, Gabrielle! You have gone mad." I sprang to the lamp and -relit it. The pale lights of morning were streaking the sky, and the -vocal welcome of Nature was breaking out from myriad throats in the -wide jubilation of the spring's resurrection.</p> - -<p>Gabrielle was on her knees before me with her face bowed within her -embracing hands. I raised her up, and we walked together to the window -in silence. Upon us both fell the overwhelming consciousness that our -home had become a <i>rendez-vous for the spirits of the slain</i>. <i>It was -haunted. But to what end?</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></p> - -<p class="center">GOD'S HAND</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">Neither</span> Gabrielle nor I spoke of these marvellous matters to anyone. It -was of course connected with my sister's peculiar power of mediumistic -control. The appearances were oddly varied, and we began to associate -the return of the spirits with certain atmospheric conditions. Then -there was a notable increase—if it could be so called—of these -mysterious visitants after heavy engagements, when we might assume -that the hosts of the disembodied had been greatly augmented. For -weeks the conditions of the house were normal, and there would be no -manifestations—manifestations which I myself began to appreciate -and detect. The times most favorable for the discarnate effects were -the still nights, and more generally after cold days than after hot -ones. Dark nights were not necessarily preferred, as on a wonderfully -splendid moonlight night, my sister saw the myriad shapes and lines of -these, shall I call them GHOSTS? I remember feeling myself the thrill -of some electric-like sensation penetrating my nerves, and half caught -before my eyes the scintillations of tiny specks of light.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> - -<p>At first we were both not a little frightened. The tremendous impact of -this mass of disembodied creatures broke down our mental equilibrium. -We felt suddenly half immersed in the other world, and felt too the -oncoming <i>denouement</i> which, apprehended but unforeseen, awaited -this spectral deluge. How often we sat at nights, deep into the -night, at the front door under the leaf-embowered porch, fearful of -entrance into the house, which had become a sort of <i>adytum</i>, which -we might not penetrate, evicted as we were, by the unbidden tenants, -that swarmed from grave, and trench, and field, hilltop and valley, -from the crevices of walls, and the streets of villages, the cellars -of churches, and the torn up holes of tree-roots. We might indeed -have instituted—as at times I suggested—a sort of analysis of the -psychical constants of these disembodied beings whose actuality neither -of us doubted for an instant. We might have noted the exact moments of -their larger recurrence, the intervals of their absence, the occasions -when they became vocal, the peculiarities of their incidence upon -ourselves in our physical sensations, or mental susceptibilities, or -emotional response, if such observations were possible—that is if we -could discover that the presence of these souls (?) affected us in -those three elements of our existence at all.</p> - -<p>Nothing of a systematic record was kept, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> certain very sharp -and certain hopelessly hazy impressions are quite, by me, easily -recalled. The sharp impressions were in the nature of shocks allied -with what might be less flatteringly called <i>frights</i>, and the hazy -ones were indubitably aural influences such as have been determined as -electrical, or epileptic, or hysteric. Naturally the latter possess -the greater interest and have more to do with the extra-natural -mystical agencies of spirits. Perhaps it would not be amiss to describe -these—not too tediously—before I rehearse the last convincing stages -of the spiritualistic manifestations as they ushered in the final -descent of the "<i>Other World</i>" for the shame of human strife, and the -obliterating arrest of this infernal, this demoralizing, this vast -national embroilment of bitterness and hatred, that has unloosed the -satanic energies of HELL to the confusion of <i>Faith</i> and <i>Hope</i> and -<i>Charity</i>.</p> - -<p>An experience of the first sort, followed immediately by the aural -influence, took place about the beginning of June in 1916. It was a -beautiful day, the light gloriously brilliant, and the summer fragrance -of St. Choiseul filling our little world with its inexhaustible -presence of roses, when, as I stood at my open window, leaning outward -to regale my senses with the precious offerings of the earth and -sky, I felt a wind, perhaps without any precise quality of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> heat or -coolness, blow over me, although not a breath of the moving atmosphere -outside stirred leaf or blade or flower, and then supervened a loss of -consciousness, a relaxation of my body in sleep, and I, overcome with -this unnatural drowsiness against which I forlornly struggled, sank -into a chair, and did not recover consciousness before the evening. Now -on that day was fought the battle of the —— which killed 5000 men -here in the west, while almost simultaneously the conflict in Poland -added another 5000 to the number of the slain. There could be no doubt -that my unconsciousness partook of the immediate character of syncope, -or, to be even more scientific, that it was lethal, and might have -terminated my life. That is my firm conviction. From a later experience -I have become convinced that the ingestion so to speak into the air of -the disembodied, actually devitalizes the atmosphere, and produces in -those subjected to their multitudinous contact, asphyxiation. I awoke -from my sleep wearied and apathetic.</p> - -<p>The second occasion happened at night, and was not attributable to -any sudden influx of the dead from contemporaneous battles. I have no -theory to explain it. I was asleep in my bed. It was in the following -August. I awoke with a start, almost as if I had been struck, and -realized the most curious tingling inside my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> head, as if a thousand -or more needles were therein busily engaged in employing their myriad -points upon my sensitive tissues. It was an excruciating agony, -not exactly acutely painful, but maddeningly intolerable and nerve -racking and confusing. It was unendurable. Instinctively I clapped -the bedclothes to my head and instantly there was complete relief. -Exposing my head again to this outside atmospheric bombardment the -agony recurred. I maintained my self-possession and actually tried the -experiment over and over again of alternately putting my head outside -of the bedclothes and then covering it with them. The effects were -constant, and the inference unimpeachable that the air contained some -agencies that exasperated my brain and pierced its envelope of skull, -while the interposition of the loose textures of the bed-coverings -stopped it. I can add authoritatively, that, as might have been -expected, the thicker the covering of my head the more complete the -relief, while upon no other part of my exposed body was any effect -noticeable. The irritatable surfaces were confined to my head only. Not -the spinal column nor the ganglionic centres along the thigh responded -to this inexplicable force. There was no cessation of this attack -throughout the night, but it slowly quieted down and disappeared as -the day broke. The aural effects upon me were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> dual in character. They -were physiological to the extent of producing a severe intermittent -headache, and they were psychic or mental inasmuch as they provoked an -irrepressible activity of thought, and, quite humiliatingly, with it, -an extreme emotional irritability. So cross did I become that I left -the house, and exhausted myself walking about the country to rid myself -of this abominable disagreeableness.</p> - -<p>Another experience distinctly connected with the frightful cost of -the assaults upon the German trenches in September, 1915, took place -in that month, a few days after the engagements—the suggestion might -be hazarded that it requires some time for the "ghosts" to assemble -themselves and repair to any agreed upon <i>rendez-vous</i>—when entering -the house at evening, both my sister and myself became stifled with the -strange suffocating effect of the air. It was irrespirable. I muttered -"Again the spirits." The conclusion was ludicrous enough. We fell -to our knees and crawled out of the room. In fact the circumstances -resembled exactly the entrance of irrespirable gases into a room of -pure air, and the consequent escape of the victims by creeping along -the floor.</p> - -<p>I must now state that these material effects were much more noticeable -with me than with my sister. My sister, as the foregoing pages have -reiterated was familiar with the spiritual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> world, and her powers -of mediumistic control had been successfully evoked. She had indeed -been visited apparently by numbers of the dead, and no unpleasant -bodily sensations had been felt. The voices <i>alone</i> had become to -her unendurable, but for many months now these voices had been -stilled, as it were; in fact ever since that moment when she saw the -wraith of Sebastien Quintado above us in my room their intelligible -articulations had not been heard—hearing meaning a kind of <i>inaudible -utterance</i> within the veil of the mind or soul. I do not think that -I ever attained the sensitivity necessary to distinguish the voices, -though, whether it was imagination or reality, my ears have possibly at -moments rung with an indescribable confused murmur. And never, until -the last <i>materialization</i>, did I discern faces. I except the special -incarnation of Blanchette. These incidents, I have recalled, have -only the slenderest value to establish any facts associated with the -nature and functions of the disembodied, and they need not be further -extended. Let me at once come to the ultimate act of this inexpressible -drama.</p> - -<p>My readers all know how, upon the approach of the spring of 1917, the -Allies and their Teutonic adversaries prepared for the last desperate -struggle, how it had become almost mutually understood that the fierce -death-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>grapple should be undertaken outside of the trenches, and that -the arbitrament of war, under skies darkened by all the most hideous -emissions of shell, canister, powder, and infernal machines of poison, -should be attempted in a colossal conflict, that strains the mind to -conceive, and that might have approached in its horribleness of means -and results, the very uttermost image of the <i>End of All Things</i>. -The huge forces on both sides were assembled within the ten thousand -miles of trenches, that had converted the northeastern edges of our -country into a subterranean battlefield. From these trenches, almost -so arranged by some supervising destiny, they were to arise, like -implacable fiends or bloodless furies, and plunge their regiments, -their brigades, their squadrons, their divisions, their armies against -each other, in an unutterable tremendousness of slaughter, that -might have rent the vault of Heaven, if any feeling, any sympathy, -any recognition, any compassion, any power resided there! All of the -resources were accumulated, and the last promised carnage proclaimed -the extinction of civilized man in Europe.</p> - -<p>Well that was the situation. On the eastern front the war had subsided. -Russia was practically fought to a standstill, and though, with the -customary Muscovite happiness of pretension, the Bear addressed his -allies with pompous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> declarations, no one seriously thought of him. -The Balkan turmoil had also simmered down to expectation simply. The -invasion of Egypt and the upheaval of the Indian mutineers had not so -very considerably materialized. Indeed everything now hung and was made -to hang, upon this final, incalculable, terrible decision. Would either -side survive its furious exterminating madness? Rumania was destroyed.</p> - -<p>See what it meant. Two gigantic armies confronted each other over a -line of two hundred and fifty miles, and the last resources of all -the armaments of the magnified and reinforced invention of the great -nations of Europe had been marshalled together to bring to some lasting -decision the desecrating ravages of this racial duel. From the plain of -Antwerp and the winding valleys of the Meuse, to the hilltops of the -Marne, from Chalons to the slopes of the Vosges, the steel-bristling -squadrons, carrying in their flanks volcanic fires, watched each other -nervously, and yet, with a stolidity, born of custom and the grim -confidence of an irreparable doom; with a detachment also from earthly -ties, that made them seem like, almost like, discarnate beings. But -to these men, brought there from the ends of Europe, to meet DEATH, -as they might meet the morning or the evening of the common day, each -country, throughout its fields and shires, its wards and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> towns, its -bourgesses and departments and communes, its duchies, and electorates, -would soon become an empty cenotaph.</p> - -<p>Ah, but that was not all. There was a miracle in it. Yes, a miracle. -God had moved the minds of the leaders towards this vast <i>denouement</i>. -The huge military programme, replete with bristling glories of arms and -men, the caparisoned squadrons of cavalry, the wide-mouthed, serried -cannon, the lumpy groups of the squandering "Busy Berthas," and "Jack -Johnsons," that wasted the ransom of kings in a few hours, the crowding -millions of men covering square miles of desolated countrysides, the -pitched tents, where the electric service, installed with thousands of -wires, kept the tendrilous nets of communication quivering with orders, -despatches, and rumors, the littered commissariats, filling screened -refuges with barrels, wagons, soup-kitchens, and interminable bales of -food, the long ranges of the hospital equipments, the stretchers, the -Red-Cross orderlies, the waiting doctors in barracks and in tents, the -auto-ambulances, the piled ramparts of bandages, and near at hand in -loosely framed operating chambers the sweet sickly odors of ether and -iodiform, and then back of all, along interminable alleys, the loaded -ammunition vans, carrying the shells and canisters, the cartridges -and gas engines and back again of these the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> grouped multitudes of -spectators—all of this vast spectacle, repeated on the opposite line -of the enemy—<i>vis-a-vis</i>—was thus concentrated, by a common impulse -in both camps, for the irrevocable decision, <i>because GOD willed it</i>.</p> - -<p>In such a grandiose style should the last act of HIS interposition be -culminated, and the races of the earth should learn from the cavernous -receptacles of spirit, from the shrined multitudes of the DEAD, -enwrapped in the boundless fields of sky and star and cloud, issuing -perchance from the wide-swung gates of Paradise, or Heaven, or of Hell -itself—of the overwhelming pressure of the OTHER WORLD, learn thus too -of the maintenance of sympathy between the affairs this side, and the -affairs that side, of the narrow gap of DEATH! So it was.</p> - -<p>But wonderful things had happened in the summer of 1916 and in its -early autumn. There had been awful carnage at Verdun where the Teuton -attempted to drive through to Paris and where the Gallic defiance -rang out, <i>Ils ne passeron pas</i>. To and fro had the lines wavered, -each interval strewn with innumerable corpses; the curtains of fire -had swept to and fro and in their murderous folds life had expired -as the flames destroy the swarming moths at harvest. Super-human -deeds of valor had amazed the world that watched the struggle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> with -terror-stricken eyes, and at last the Germans were pushed backward -and the valleys of the Meuse, its hills and fields, its villages lay -scorched, blackened, upheaved, overthrown, scarred from end to end, -with most damnable desolation.</p> - -<p>And northward the English had, along the Somme, struck at the Teuton -with savage fury. The skies had been eclipsed with thunderous -avalanches of fire, and for days the satanic deluge of shot and shell -had stricken the German into helpless panic. Beyond Albert, with -headlong rushes animated by God only knows what courage, the Briton -had reached Thiepval Ginchy, Guillemont Clery and then shot forward -with staggering, awful vehemence towards Bapaume and Peronne, and the -defenses of the enemy, assailed on all sides, were melting away, and -the invasion promised the greatest results. Except on the east the -German forces seemed exhausted and the debacle had begun. The Allies -were ready for the supreme effort.</p> - -<p>Yes—there had been talk of PEACE—and, for one short moment, the world -reeled almost in its dazed wonder-stricken joy. But the war-clouds -closed again, and the steel-toothed, fire-shrouded fight stormed out -again.</p> - -<p>And then there had been another change. Their long line of armament -had again been pushed further west by the Germans, who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> forced -our lines back, and again threatened the safety of Paris, had indeed -so far trespassed over France, that their trenches and up-flung -fortifications, their mounded parapets and encircling redoubts, broke -in the line from Maubeuge, Rocroi, Dinant, Mézières, and Montmedy, -eastward to Laon, again to Soissons, Compiègne, to Rheims, and now -indeed, from the high ruined tower of the Chateau at La Ferté the -trench line of the Teutons could be distinctly seen. The matter -is important for <i>there</i> Gabrielle summoned—summoned I say—the -disembodied to the great intervention. <i>Ne riez pas; c'est vrai, le -dernier mot de verité intime. Attendez! Vous savez bien la grande chose -qui finit la guerre!</i></p> - -<p>All of this happened in the winter of 1917. And about the first of -April of that spring—let me see—that was on a Sunday morning, -Gabrielle came into my room—before our breakfast—and sat down at the -window, that one looking west. She had been to early mass, her face was -drawn and inspired, her eyes were large and frightened, and she was -trembling with excitement.</p> - -<p>I had been reading and scarcely noticed her entrance. The instant my -eyes met hers I started with alarm.</p> - -<p>"<i>Gabrielle qu'avez vous?</i> What is it? The GHOSTS?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> - -<p>She rose softly and came towards me. Then she knelt at my side, and -looking rather down at her moving fingers than at me, told me this -wonderful thing: One word—the spirits had not visited us for months, -and we had, partly at least, forgotten them, in the busy work of the -relief, and the frequent visits hither and thither, on errands of the -Red-Cross mission. Gabrielle spoke rapidly in parts of her narrative, -and then she hesitated, and seemed absent-minded, worn, and bewildered, -but as she went on her words flowed abundantly and fastly,—so you -remember it was before—and as she ended she had risen, and her -expression assumed a peculiar vividness of—of—Ah how shall I say?—of -seraphic beauty!</p> - -<p>Yes, yes, it was just so. <i>Vraiment!</i></p> - -<p>"Alfred last night about two o'clock towards morning, I seemed to be -awake, and I <i>saw</i>—Alfred I was not awake, it was a vision in my -dreams—the figure of Sebastien Quintado like a blade of light standing -at my bed-side, his eyes fixed into mine so that I was spell-bound—" -Gabrielle here stopped, and her face blushed, I thought, with a kind -of modest shame I could not comprehend—"Finally he spoke, and his -voice sounded like an echo; I seemed just to hear it. Sometimes it grew -louder, and then it faded and died away and I thought I leaned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> towards -him to catch his words—so it seemed Alfred. He said this:</p> - -<p>"'Gabrielle! Gabrielle! the spirits need you. The great war ends. -The millions who have died, who now, as I do, repine in spirit-land, -have gathered together, thousands upon thousands, upon thousands, and -GOD sends them to stop the slaughter. God has dispensed council—the -council of willfulness—to the nations and their generals, and in a -little while they will assemble the vast armies on the west, and try -out the conflict <i>in one great battle</i>. So it will be determined; So -God wills it.</p> - -<p>"'And then Gabrielle <i>WE</i>—the millions of the dead, those torn away -from wives and children, from youth and love and joy, from friends and -country, from all of the ambitions which animate our kind on earth; we -will flock like clouds, when the north wind blows over St. Choiseul, -and descend, visible, luminous, vocal, from the glowing skies, and -from us, Gabrielle, will proceed a terrible Paralysis—Ay more—an -undeniable dread and weakness.</p> - -<p>"'It will, like a contagion, spread throughout the armies from rank -to rank, from private to general, and back again; it will freeze the -blood, it will dwindle the heart, it will thrill the brain. Before -it bravery becomes a shrinking, ambition a regret, the thought of -conflict a remorse. It will do more. It will slowly be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>come a strange, -unendurable, gnawing, piercing, scorching, internal pain, a pain so -bitter and keen, that flesh will refuse its infliction, and so there -will enter in that innumerable host just one thought—FLIGHT!</p> - -<p>"'It will not be, though, the FLIGHT of cowards, but of -Conscience-stricken men. And then a greater thing will come. There will -be <i>no Flight</i>; the pain will manacle their feet, will stifle their -voices, will wither their wills—one monstrous Stupor will overcome -them, and for three days and a night, like the men overcome with sleep -that watched the Apostle St. Peter in the prison, the armies of the -Nations will sleep—Ay—and sleep in PAIN!</p> - -<p>"'We shall abide above them. Our millions, by night and day, will -perpetually afflict them. By day we will be unseen, by night we shall -be seen. And from every particle of our incorporeal beings will flow -the influence of our terror and our punishment. There will be no -mitigation. GOD so wills it!</p> - -<p>"'And when the three days are finished, then those men will -awake—General and Prince and King and Private and Officer—and their -strength will be as nothing, their vigor as a reed shaken by the wind, -their wills as shaking vials of water, their threats like sheets -whipped by the wind. So shall it be. Like men dazed in a flame, or -smoke, or men caught half dead from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> the waters, will it be to them. It -will be to them as the prophet Isaiah said:</p> - -<p>"'"And they shall be brought down and shall speak out of the ground, -and their speech shall be low out of the dust, and their voice shall -be, as of one that hath a familiar spirit, out of the ground, and their -speech shall whisper out of the dust."</p> - -<p>"'But'—it was at this point that Gabrielle rose, and stood like some -Sybil or Prophetess, replenished with a divine ardor—'Gabrielle, you -have been chosen as the instrument of our incarnation. I chose you. -See! It is God's way! Great issues HE brings about through the lowly -and the humble, the contrite and the simple. God chooses you. There -must be the human, living, breathing, earth-born medium. Go to the -Chateau of La Ferté on —— and use your power. It will be added to. -Let it be at night, the night before the great combat and the whole -world will be advertised of it. That is the intention of God. So does -He sway the feeble minds of men, turning their pride into humiliation, -their certainties into failures, their promises into dreams. GO!</p> - -<p>"'And Gabrielle, perchance it shall happen that then you also will be -numbered with US—<i>those of the Over-World</i>.'"</p> - -<p>Here Gabrielle stopped, a sudden flush mounted to her temples, and -after came a deathly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> pallor, and then she fell upon my neck in an -embrace utterly tearless, when I felt her body sway upon mine with deep -pulsations, while her lips sought my own, and almost inaudibly she -whispered in my ear—"Alfred, Sebastien kissed me as he vanished, and -his lips were like fire, and the power he brought to me rested with me -from his lips. I am ready to go. But you, Alfred, will go with me. It -may be afterwards we shall be no more together."</p> - -<p>Truly upon us unutterable things had fallen. We sat there together, -almost unnoticing the passage of the day, immersed in a wonder that -deepened into sadness as the anticipation of some wild unearthly ending -of the great war steadily became more and more fixed in our minds, and -with it—Ah there was the desperate cruelty and anguish of it—the -possible separation of our lives. We hardly spoke, and only as the noon -hour flooded the room with light and heat, did we arise, and, hand -in hand, almost as if then we approached the tragic sacrifice of our -happiness, went out, and down the stairway to our duties.</p> - -<p>Perhaps dear old Emile Chouteau thinking of our propitiation would have -said:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p><i>Sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras.</i></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>During the long weeks before that awfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> auspicious moment came, -Gabrielle and I kept working at our tasks; she at the villages about -us, in the homes of sick returning soldiers, and also at Paris on -errands of every sort, and I in work of distribution, supervision and -occasionally administration. But it was mostly at the hospital of Saint -Jean that I experienced the full measure of an unusual depression—the -customary, and now grown habitual, grievous seriousness of a national -crisis, deepened into a pathos, almost unassuaged with any hope of joy. -Here I saw our soldiers in that delicately conceived and apportioned -religious retreat, itself a poetic dream of gentle loveliness, with -its walls of time-stained stone, its avenues of trees, the ranged -gardens of its sunny domains, with the petunias, the geraniums, the -sages, and the high-browed and over shadowing chestnuts, the outspread -firm outlines of tower and hall, its innumerable vistas, at evenings -breathing a strange and subtle melancholy—<i>malheur à qui n'a pas senti -ces mélancolies</i> (Renan)—and the devoted community of priests and -nurses. Here I saw the sons of my country dying, praying, chanting, -smiling in their ferocious sufferings, slipping away into eternity -with prayers for <i>La patrie</i>, or rising from the very border of the -grave with mutilated bodies, and yet yearning for the last chance of -fighting still again. Here I saw the deathless love of home, lingering -in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> the sick bodies, whose lips moved in a delirium of dreams, that -they were soon to revisit the old orchards, the vineyards, the chimney -places, and their people—<i>Ah c'était miserable</i>—and I have seen the -chapel filled with the mourners and the broken-limbed companions of the -dead, lifting the coffin so gently, as if the lifeless figure in it -might feel their friendliness and thank them for it. Yes more too—a -spectacle that might have touched the heart of Heaven—the wounded in -the wards singing, in murmurs, between their gasps of pain, or just -slowly gesturing, as it were, with body and fingers and with their -speaking eyes in unison, <i>La Marseillaise</i>. You know how M. —— has -described it. <i>Ecoutez.</i></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<i>Nos blessés chantaient ainsi par la bouche de leur blessures et nous -en écoutant les strophes sublimes, il nous semblait les comprendre -pour la première fois!</i>"</p></blockquote> - -<p>Our—Gabrielle's and mine—miraculous mission was never forgotten. We -did not speak of it, but we watched the racing days, and as we watched -the words of the VISION grew visibly true. The Great Effort was to -be made; that we knew. In the face of all prudence, driven onward by -the irresistible purpose of the Almighty, the generals of the armies -announced the dread decision of "<i>trying it out</i>"—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> English -said—in one colossal combat. It was the edict of fate that rushed -them on to this conclusion. And it was trumpeted to the whole world. -And no one thought it strange. No one wondered. And yet in any finite -human view what unutterable folly! Ah—it was God's way. HE had blinded -the eyes of the wise. HE had perverted the judgment of the mighty. -HE had turned the councils of the Great into childishness. His hand -indeed again rested on the earth, and its peoples, and the vast <i>END</i> -would be—so it became clear to my sister and to me—HIS Revelation -of Himself, blasting clean into the hearts of men this truth, that HE -LIVED.</p> - -<p>So the armies of the Allies and of the Powers gathered together against -each other, along the line of the eastern frontiers of France, as I -have said. There the last gage of war was to be flung down, and the -issue tested.</p> - -<p>But no new command came to us from the spirit-world. It was now within -two weeks of the hour set for the DESCENT, and Gabrielle and I wondered -that we should not hear again of the mysterious matter. Need we doubt? -See how the current of events foretold the END! That last night at -the old home in St. Choiseul I shall never forget. We sat together in -the big library throughout the night expecting some sudden GUIDANCE -from the Unknown. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> said very little. The weight of our purpose had -withdrawn us from the companionship of our neighbors, and for weeks -we had lived alone in a reserve of solitude, of wondering suspense, -that also tied our tongues. We had become stupefied with the terror of -this admission to the supernatural, as if we were holding the hands of -the Creator! Did we believe? Gabrielle did, and—I will confess it—I -linked it all with the phantasmagoria of events of the hideous war, as -something possible—just possible.</p> - -<p>That was the end of September. We must be at the Chateau of La -Ferté the following night if punctuality counted in this tremendous -eventuality. And of course it did count. How exactly GOD had given his -commands to Moses and Joshua, to Barak and to Gideon, to Jephthah, to -David, to Solomon, to Elijah! So instinctively we grouped ourselves -with the designs of Providence as indeed commissioned agents of its -ends.</p> - -<p>It was almost morning; the eastern sky reddening with flakes of fire -scattered over it, and the light entering the room from the south wall -of the garden, where the clustering vines hung untouched and forgotten; -when Gabrielle spoke to me.</p> - -<p>"Alfred have you any doubts? The time is short for our preparation. -Tonight we should be at La Ferté."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I will go with you Gabrielle. Would you go alone?"</p> - -<p>And my sister answered in the words of Barak to Deborah:</p> - -<p>"'If thou will go with me then I will go; but if thou will not go with -me, then I will not go.'"</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle all issues are with God. I will go with you."</p> - -<p>Later, when the day had fully broken, and the sunlight flooded -everything without and within the house, and, from its singular -clarity, the not usual picture of the Eiffel Tower, far off in -Zeppelin-haunted Paris, was just descried as a hazy skein of lines in -the sky—we were both looking at it—the front door was assailed with a -furious knocking. I ran to it and opening it encountered Privat Deschat -with a paper in his hands, his face convulsed with emotion, his mouth -wide open, and crowded with insulting epithets, that he flung upon me -with such emphasis that, for an instant, I thought I was the occasion -of his rage. But it was not so. It was what he read that had startled -him into this unaccustomed excitement and denunciation.</p> - -<p>"<i>Voila</i>," he shouted, waving the sheet he held in my face. "<i>Voila, -une clique des fous. Les scelerats; les imbecilles abominables; -traitres</i>; Dogs of Perdition. See, they intend to risk all on a single -cast of the die and then—<i>C'est assez à faire un homme honnête</i>—with -his head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> on his shoulders—<i>créver avec desespoir</i>, with madness. -Alfred Lupin, what do you suppose? The Allies and the Boches and their -forces have agreed upon tomorrow as a day of final quittance. There -is to be one huge battle, <i>un conflit superbe</i> and then—<i>Quoi?</i> -Give up—<i>la FIN. C'est a dire une massacre insupportable</i>, unheard -of, monstrous, irreparable, and then—<i>Ah, le Diable pourquoi existe -je?—la renvoi à jour fixe.</i> Can you believe such a suicide of the -nation, such a shameless cowardice, such insanity, such depravity of -ideas? And they make of it a circus, <i>une parade macaronique</i>, and of -the nation <i>un jouet</i>. Is it not most damnable? Eh?"</p> - -<p>Stunned by this unexpected outburst I retreated a step, and following -me with the offending paper he continued his onslaught.</p> - -<p>"Have you not heard? The Generals, the Kings, the Princes, the -Diplomats, the Soldiers, have all agreed upon one infernal -exterminating duel, and with that over no matter who wins, they throw -down their arms and make peace. And here—HERE—" he shouted, still -pursuing me backward into the hall-way, while behind me gathered -Hortense, Julie, and even Gabrielle in appalled curiosity—"here they -proclaim it to their peoples, and bid them gather at the carnage, -<i>Une spectacle magnifique assurement</i>—the death of the nations. What -poison of in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>sanity, of miserable, hopeless, brutal, depraved idiocy, -possesses our men? Has the whole world become a drivelling fool, <i>une -bête écervelé</i>?"</p> - -<p>He was still holding out towards me the paper, and in despair over -his exasperation, I seized it, and rushed with it to the light, while -Privat Deschat rushed with me, and the little circle of auditors closed -about us in amazement. I saw at once the cause of Deschat's disgust. -The sheet he had brought to us was a broadside—<i>une bordée</i>—which -evidently was intended for circulation throughout the country, and -had been posted over the walls of the cities, where what I knew, was -frankly announced—the <i>umpirage</i>, the <i>arbitrament</i> in one last -conflict of the undecided war. It read.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center">PROCLAMATION</p> - -<p>PEACE COMES WITH VICTORY. ONE BATTLE MORE. THEN IT IS ALL OVER. ON -—— THE BATTLE BEGINS. THAT ENDS THE WAR. LET THE NATIONS GATHER. THE -TOURNAMENT OF CIVILIZATION IS AT HAND. SUCH IS THE DECISION OF THE -RULERS, AFTER THAT INDUSTRY, REST. PRAY FOR US, AND COME AND SEE.</p> - -<p>L'ADMINISTRATION.</p></blockquote> - -<p>"Yes," mocked Deschat, "<i>l'es boutiquiers</i> are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> selling seats for it -now in Paris, in Berlin, in London. <i>Mon Dieu je vais à me mettre au -cercueil.</i>" With that admonishment he vanished from the house.</p> - -<p>I turned to Gabrielle.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, it is enough. It is the writing on the wall. GOD COMES. He -has truly turned the heads of the nations. It is again the words of the -prophet Jeremiah:</p> - -<p>"'Yes, the stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed times; and the -turtle and the crane and the swallow, observe the time of their coming; -but my people know not the judgment of the Lord.'</p> - -<p>"We need no further assurance, Gabrielle. It will be as the spirit of -Sebastien Quintado said. LET US GO AT ONCE."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></p> - -<p class="center">THE END</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">The</span> Chateau of La Ferté stands upon a low hill forty kilometres (about -twenty-five miles) northeast of Briois. It is a wooded hill, because -it has been a neglected one. The old trees of the ancient demesne have -grown up in disorder, and have gathered to themselves a wild brood of -other trees and bushes. The whole place is a wilderness, but threaded -with paths of picnickers—<i>parties du plaisir</i>—and it is a place, too, -full of game; here pasture deer, and the fox lurks in its coverts, -and the grouse and the partridge, and on the shielded lake swim wild -ducks. Its great towers are falling to ruin; the stone walls that bound -them together are in decay, but buried in the thicketed vines that -have sprung upon them in profusion like a horde of biting hounds. The -strong trunks of the wistarias, like mighty thighs have crushed in -their partitions, and the old courtyards are damp with rank weeds and -spotted fungus-growths. The northeast tower still lifts up its gray -masses of wall above the encroaching trees, but its feet are buried in -the luxuriant verdure of the plants and trees. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> strangely beautiful -spot. Traces of the old gardens remain, and a few still decipherable -paths wander up and down the northern slopes. Some of these lead to -the lake, invaded on all sides by rushes and sedges, thickly wadding -its sides, except at one rim where still a pebbly margin stretches its -white ribbon against the vivid green of descending, creeping mosses.</p> - -<p>A moat was once dug deeply about the fortress-villa, and the range -of the portcullis can be irregularly interpreted in the crumbling -walls, that faced the ditch. It is a wide domain, embracing hundreds -of acres, and the tangled thickets are interrupted by open grassy -plains, while towards the south an orchard partially redeemed by some -neighboring farmers, mixes with the savage glories of the unmolested -wilderness, the pastoral sweetness of cultivation. It is a rare bit -of natural artistry, enriched by feudal history and weirdly darkened -by ancient crime, and now in the country circuits ascribed a half -sinister population of unfavorable natural tenants. Here the owl -secretes his nest and bewitches the night with his melancholy screams, -the mosaic-backed snakes glide within its shadows, or bask in its hot -exposures, the claw legged bats drape its fastnesses in the daytime, -and wheel in twitching gyrations about its grim sentinel towers in the -moonlight. Toads and stealthy rats find in its uninvaded precincts -safe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> hiding. Like some untamed forest land it invited the flight -of the hated denizens of the countrysides, and freely offered its -thickets, overgrown jungles, and sunless recesses for their concealment -and protection.</p> - -<p>But there were more terrible things said of La Ferté. The displeasure -of Heaven had visited it. The blazing lightning had struck it again and -again. Its ancient oaks had been blasted by the fires of the Almighty. -When storms came from the north or east, their worst fury was spent on -the wearied old walls of La Ferté; when the snow fell it fell deepest -at La Ferté and the winds played there their most demoniacal tricks. -Some wanderers who once had taken refuge in its deserted rooms, had -been killed by the bolts of lightning, and others—a Gypsy band—in -winter had been found huddled together dead in its woods, buried -beneath enormous drifts, when the snowfall outside of the fated spot -and over the general country-land had been light and even.</p> - -<p>Ah yes, the old castle lay under a curse. In its old dungeons men -and women, and children too had been done to death, and there was -the well-known tale of the murdered duke and his beautiful wife and -three fair children stabbed to death with the very dining forks at a -banquet, when words ran high and the wine had turned the heads of the -wicked guests who were the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> duke's own kindred; such current gossip as -fascinates the contemplation of every deserted ruin.</p> - -<p>In the spring St. Elmo fires burned on its turrets, and were one to -enter its woods at night haunting lights shone from its empty windows, -and, if the wind rose—it soon became a tempest at La Ferté—and on it -rose a chorus of wailing, long sighing sobs, that you could hear as far -as the post road. That was well known everywhere. And then a thunder -bolt, a great iron rock, hurled from Heaven, had crushed in the roof -of an old keep, outside of the moat, where once a pretty girl—so ran -the legend—and boy who were in the way of a terrible baron, way back -in the reign of Charles V, had been strangled, and their bodies sunk -in a well, which sometimes filled even now with blood, and ran out, -painting the ground in red streaks under the hawthorn bushes. You could -see the stone now, though the way to it was through thick-set briars. -No wild flowers ever grew there, though everywhere else at La Ferté -they were plentiful enough, and the marguerites were famous. Hundreds -came there to gather them for birthdays, at weddings, and for funerals. -Yes, yes—but only in daylight was La Ferté visited. All good people -gave it a wide berth at night. The post road passed near it, but those -who chanced to travel on it by night hurried past the gloomy shadows of -La Ferté—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>darkest too like ink or ebony, when the moon silvered its -craggy walls.</p> - -<p>To Gabrielle and to me, La Ferté was invested with no terrors. We loved -it. From our earliest years of life we had every summer gone to it on -pleasure parties, and later—so absorbing was it to my fancy—I had, -when a very young man, made a complete survey of it, mapped its old -walk-ways, gardens, and outbuildings, reconstructed in drawings, from -ancient prints, its granaries and storerooms, the cellars, vaults, -larders, arsenals, and the upper stories of its dwelling apartments. -So the supernatural summons to repair to La Ferté brought with it, -despite its ghostly origin, no fears. Indeed fear under the spell of -this awful errand could not have been suspected. It all lay prone -before the sublime magnitude of the event which we were to serve, whose -heralds and appanage we were. The excitement, spiritual and mental, -woven with the emancipated feelings of destiny, and also with the -emotional elation over the issue of peace and restoration, lifted us -completely above usual physical states, and half immersed us in that -dreamless sleep which the Hindus call <i>prajna</i>, or something like it. -Consciousness was there with us, of course, but a larger consciousness -obliterated our own selves, and we had become mixed in with the -currents of the intentions of the Supreme Spirit.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> - -<p>However I was all the time intensely practical and I had formed exactly -my plans for our installation at the chateau. Almost immediately after -the storming Privat Deschat had left us, we started. An automobile, -already engaged from the hospital, carried us to Briois, and there, -almost on the instant of our arrival, we took a train for the village -of Peltry, which is not far from the chateau. From the village we made -our way across the fields to the chateau. We were quite alone, but not -knowing what circumstances might arise, and eagerly insistent upon the -demands of nature, I provided us with a plentifully supplied basket of -provisions, which momentarily may strike the reader as an anticlimax -to our exalted states of mind. It was really nothing of the sort. -Physical weakness could only have interfered with our mediation. It was -not satiety or even satisfaction I was thinking of, but just physical -endurance under some unforeseen and incomputable exigency.</p> - -<p>All the way we had been made aware of the vast concentration of -troops, and of the nation, towards the frontiers of the country, where -the confronting armies were to try out the dread decision. Marching -regiments, the vans, the clouds of aeroplanes, and the multitudes of -people traveling in all manner of ways, and mostly afoot, landing from -trains from Paris,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> from the west, from the south, and converging in -one colossal mass upon the selected battlefield, convinced us that -the utterly suicidal madness was to subserve the purposes of God. The -spectacle was to be grandiose and universal. The testimony to its power -should not be lacking in emphasis.</p> - -<p>Streams of men and women, mostly old men now, and children, swept past -us. The land was inundated with the migrating crowds. These spectators -invaded the fields, waded the little streams, overran the farmyards, -pressing on to that strange goal, the <i>duel of the nations</i>. Surely -the poison of an insane prepossession had turned reason and wisdom -and experience and prudence into foolishness. So we thought. Thus the -mysterious messages revealed to us seemed to be visibly corroborated.</p> - -<p>But the hilltop of La Ferté was not sought. The drifting crowds, -pushing stubbornly on, almost without sound of voice, in a dreadful -silence, like creatures driven to their doom, divided there their -compact masses, and it remained like some obstacle in a river's rush -and freshet, and only around it poured the human tides, animated by -some fear perhaps—No, rather directed by the mystical forces of the -intelligences that ruled the hour, and ruling the hour ruled also the -inclinations of the hearts that, in their blind animal herding, obeyed -them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> - -<p>We had hurried along with the scattered throngs, veering constantly -towards the untouched wilderness of bushes, swards, jungles, and woods, -around the ancient ruin, until upon its verge we stepped out of the -vast struggle, and moved upward on the slopes towards its towers. There -were wondering comments, and a few for a moment were inclined to follow -our example. But the murmur of disapproval rose like the breaking of -waves upon a beach, half articulate, half inarticulate, but wholly in -remonstrance. Some words were intelligible. They sufficed.</p> - -<p>"<i>Non, non—pas là. Retournez; c'est un pays maudit. Ne restons là. -C'est une place méchante. Voila.</i> Back, back; the devil owns it. <i>Je -vous le dit. Aucun qui reste là se flétrie.</i>"</p> - -<p>We were watched a little while with consternation and astonishment, -and then the bovine muteness returned, and the headlong plunge went on -uninterrupted. We were left alone. The edge of the preserve which we -crossed was a grassy slope, terminated at a little height by a thicket -of hawthorns. Through this latter, along a devious pathway, we made -our way, bending beneath the heavily draped branches. Then came an -open space, and a large ragged chestnut of huge girth was encountered. -Its wide flung branches struck against the very walls of the western -tower,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> which here, crumbling and falling apart, had crushed the -front wall of the enclosure, and left its inner courtyards exposed, -seen over blackened masonry, and piles of bricks, and rudely cut -limestone blocks. Scrambling over this obstacle we found ourselves at -length in the chateau's courtyard, and in the darkest shadows, almost -impenetrable in daylight. Beyond us rose the better preserved eastern -tower, which it was my intention to ascend. Shy lizards shot hither -and thither along the walls, and the air seemed almost irrespirable -with the odors of decay, from rotting timbers, and the multitudinous -growth of fungi, and ivy, and a red confervae coating the pavement in -the little undried pools. I knew exactly where I was. I led the way -further to a descent of a few steps, that brought us within the rounded -walls of the tower, where a fairly well preserved winding stairway led -upward to its very summit. I had often ascended it to its very summit. -Now I told Gabrielle to wait below, and I would first essay the steps, -and discover their condition. I felt confident of their strength. It -had been spoliation, more than weathering, that had destroyed the -western tower. There had been four towers once, but the two northern -ones had been almost razed to the ground by the frequent plunderings of -their stones for bridges, and stables, and culverts of the surrounding -country. Their stumps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> and foundations were thickly encumbered with -all kinds of wild growths, amongst which the stunted saplings of apple -trees had inserted themselves, making the enclosure in the late spring -a bower of fragrance with their abundant blossoms.</p> - -<p>I found that the stairs were unchanged; their solidity could not be -questioned. The better preservation of the eastern tower with the still -unbroached and massive roof at its summit, had kept the stairway in -an almost pristine condition of stability, though, here and there, -the inroads of the elements, the disheartened growth of mosses and -pallid fungi upon the thin accumulations of earth in the corners, and -along the rises of the steps, imparted a sense rather than a look -of decay. At the topmost winding of the circular stairs, everywhere -supported by the central newel about which they wound, I discovered, -to my interested surprise, that the lightning had played some of its -mischievous tricks, which were popularly ascribed to the infamous -history of the ancient keep and castle, as marking it for devastation -and vengeance. A splitting of the parapet wall had occurred here, and -the angular line of dislocation had separated the stones of the rather -high wall, and, under the stress of subsequent rains and wind storms, -they had fallen out for a space of two or three feet. The accident was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> -not inopportune. It permitted a view of the land towards the east, -towards the vast panorama of the assembled armies and the gathering -multitudes, who thus now, under the sway of an over-ruling Providence, -flocked to this utterly amazing exploit. No conceit of theatrical -device could have been more spectacular; no imaginative invention of -the epic poets more sublime.</p> - -<p>I stood a moment at the opening of the wall and looked out over the -fair landscape. The trance-like wonder of that moment I can never -forget. Upon the brink of what tremendous phenomenon did I stand? Was -the visible intervention of the Most High soon to be revealed, and -we—my sister and myself—were we the chosen instrumentalities—trivial -and feeble—for its transcendent beauty?</p> - -<p>The westering sun threw the long shadows of the chateau, far flung -over the trees and bushes, the slopes and even outward upon the -throngs, at my distance hardly seen to move, a generally dark streaming -mass, darkening at the horizon, which it seemed to overrun—the -exodus of a nation! Beyond the farthest elevations northward, and -again southward in the plain, extended—unseen but understood—the -<i>boyeaux</i>, the labyrinths, the cave shelters, of Picardy and Champagne -where the soldiers waited. Beyond that ravelled edge of desperation, -of suffering, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> confronted death, lay the bordering edges of the -enemy. Beyond that again, another concourse, summoned from the towns, -the villages, and the farm-lands of Germany, instinct with the same -hallucination. And above us all—WHAT? The approaching descent of the -shriven and unshriven hosts of the slain?</p> - -<p>The day, fast closing, ushered in a night warm and clear. I assisted -Gabrielle up the long ascent of stairs; I returned for the baskets -and wraps and two small tent-stool chairs, our entire furnishment for -that ordeal, doubtless, unattended, I divined, with either hunger or -fatigue. Still the provision of these simple comforts seemed wise. -Indeed as the day died away, we ate the bread and drank the wine, in -silence, waiting. Below us came the murmurs, the catches of song, the -wailing melodies of hymns, and over the illimitable concourse spread -with flickering inconstancy, the spangles of lights, with here and -there a spurt of flames from the bonfires of improvised camps.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was about midnight, or later—we knew nothing of time, the -very breathing of our bodies, the beating of our hearts, hurried and -rapid as they were, were not even felt, or were only noticed in the -moments of self-realization. How could it have been otherwise? About -midnight, I say, we both became conscious of an unwonted agitation in -our minds or souls—who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> shall say which?—and we started up together, -crouching down at the broken gap of the parapet. Surely the instinct of -premonition was awakened in us. The sky was moonless. The stars shone -distantly, their light softened into spotted glows only.</p> - -<p>"Look," it was Gabrielle speaking, with uplifted hand pointing above us.</p> - -<p>I raised my eyes.</p> - -<p>A light—O so slowly developed—the faintest possible silvery radiance, -emerged somewhere in the centre—or what seemed to us the centre—of -the sky, and grew steadily broader and brighter. At first it was a -curdling spot of light, from whose rapidly moving—we could now discern -its motion—edges, like the margins of a thunder cloud which is torn -or frayed into wisps of sullen vapor, thin wavering flames of a richer -golden light shot softly, now piercing the darkness in arrowy lines, -now withdrawn to descend again in broad blades of nebulous splendor. -And from them an illumination, pale, like the first morning's glow, -spread upon the earth beneath, and the dense distant masses of men, the -springing features of the landscape, slowly developed spectrally. How -marvellous it was. I was transfixed not with wonder so much as with -admiration, an awful admiration—Ah yes a quickening sense of worship -perhaps. Within me stirred those original promptings of a recog<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>nition -of the OVER-RULE, somewhere in those depthless heavens above us, where -the stars shine.</p> - -<p>Gabrielle had risen to her feet, and with her hands clasped tightly -across her eyes swayed with the moment's inspiration, with her own -evoked transcendentally strengthened powers. I stood aside and watched, -a human record simply of the immeasurable spectacle.</p> - -<p>The light descended bodily; it almost seemed as a shimmering mist at -first but taking on a skeiny texture, and streaked here and there with -lines of brightness. If it was a vast cloud of the disembodied it was -too far away from us to analyze it into forms or faces, or whatever -the spectral apparitions were. There however incontestably before us, -it grew and distended and softly sank, in an increasing radiance, upon -the earth. This radiance was superbly delicate, and yet intense. It -seemed almost colorless, though I thought, too, bluescent masses passed -over it or through it, like floating shadows on a wall. The fight was -comparable to the strong glow of an electric light, shaded within an -opalescent glass. The whole descent of the cloud was in the nature of -a progression or inundation. It appeared to touch the earth, and then -to roll north and south, while an endless ocean of the same brightness -poured downward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> from the remote zenith. It was ineffably amazing.</p> - -<p>But quietly, like the rising winds in an approaching storm, motion -developed. And it became quicker and quicker, until I could discern -within the vast, white, shining envelope, currents of light passing -this way and that in unbroken rushes, and then came a sound. I heard -it distinctly and yet doubted my senses. I turned to Gabrielle. She -was not there. Terrified with the sudden thought of some miraculous -transfiguration I called aloud. <i>My voice was a whisper.</i> Turning -abruptly to one side I stumbled upon her prostrate body. She lay almost -face downward, on the damp paving, and as I seized her and raised her -up, there could scarcely be perceived any token of life in her. Hastily -chafing her hands, and clasping her to my breast for warmth, I felt the -renewed pulsations, and a moment later she opened her eyes and gazed at -me in a transfixed vacant way that again startled my fears as to some -hideous issues to this night of wonder.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle," I could see her and the objects everywhere plainly, by -the flooding light that momentarily grew more and more brilliant, -"Gabrielle. What is it? Are you sick?"</p> - -<p>There was no answer; her eyes were closed again, and her hands seemed -stiffened together in the figure of prayer. I placed her on one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> the -stools, and without relinquishing my hold of her, opened the basket of -food and wine, took out a flask and pressed it between her lips. She -responded. The wine revived her, and like a dazed person, she stared -about her as if lost.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, here I am—Alfred, your brother. Speak, Gabrielle. O! -speak."</p> - -<p>Sentient life was returning, its force was reawakened, and she opened -her arms, and embraced me, and—blessed sound—her words entered my -ears, soft, low, almost gasping.</p> - -<p>"Alfred. See. The Spirits are here. My summons has been heard. Quintado -has kept his word. It is all as he said. Listen, Alfred. There are -voices—a sort of music; singing or—is it sighing? Ah! This ends the -war. And the cries, the shouts, Alfred. What are they?"</p> - -<p>The light had become more and more strong—it rained now upon old La -Ferté, and its solitary tower, and its ruins, the wandering ancient -park with trees and bushes started outward, clothed in the strange -splendor. The glory of it filled the skies, and it beat upon the -motionless crowds revealing their compacted and scattered groups. And -the people? Everywhere was confusion or consternation. A widespread -agitation was expressed in uplifted hands, in bowed heads, in kneeling -bodies. We could see that, indistinctly, on the country-side, beyond -La Ferté. But it was the mammoth voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> of that people that Gabrielle -had heard, rising—rising—blotting out the ethereal music, until its -indescribable weirdness, its inarticulate ululations were like some -animal expiration of immeasurable magnitude. It shot a singular terror -into my heart. Was this indeed the End of the Earth?</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle," I whispered, "let us go. We cannot stay here. This light, -this influence—these ghostly crowds. I cannot—you cannot stand it. -<i>Come—come.</i>"</p> - -<p>I lifted her to her feet, forced her again to drink of the wine -and drank myself. And then we turned to the steps to descend. -Everything was in a bright light, and the light was accompanied now -by gleaming shooting darts or rays, that split it in streaks of -phosphorescent—nothing else quite describes it—cleavages.</p> - -<p>I thought I saw faces—but they were like thoughts only. Gabrielle -clung closely to me, and shielded her eyes from the marvellous picture, -that increased its stupendous power every minute. I took one last look -through the broad gap in the parapet. The clouds of glory were still -descending, sometimes in rolling folds, and the billowy masses or -reservoirs of light that had reached the earth were visibly hastening -onward along the track of that distant endless marshalled host, like -dust-storms of countless sparks. I thought too, different from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> -colossal moan of the multitude, I caught the sharp note of distant -cries. Was that the beginning of that "<i>terrible Paralysis</i>" Quintado -in his vision to Gabrielle had threatened? I thought so.</p> - -<p>I almost carried Gabrielle down the winding stairs. Her interest -increased, animation awakened, the vitality of her tired nerves was -renewed; she seemed suddenly thrilled with an exorbitant curiosity. -At the foot of the long descent, painfully traversed, as I could not -bring with me my little lantern, though the exterior splendor sent -innumerable dashes of light through chinks and narrow eyelets, that -dimly lit our winding way—at the foot, Gabrielle seemed quickened into -an almost delirious activity.</p> - -<p>"Alfred. Let us go to the trenches. Are they far away? <i>The soldiers</i>, -Alfred—Sebastien said they would be as dead men, that they would throw -away their arms and flee, suddenly stricken with the crime of their -murders. And then will come the STUPOR, that will hold them asleep, -motionless, the many millions—and then Alfred—I almost can hear him -now telling me—the three days of the <i>Presence of the Dead</i> over them, -and the terror, the punishment, and then, Alfred—you remember?—their -weakness and remorse—and then Alfred, <i>Peace</i>—and then—" her voice -faltered a moment, but only for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> moment—"then Alfred, comes—, Ah, -Alfred, do not think me cruel—then perhaps I shall leave you, and -Sebastien will take me to Heaven."</p> - -<p>Her voice became almost inaudible. I struggled with an overwhelming -agony of sorrow, because—never had the thought been altogether -absent—Gabrielle too might leave me, and then Ah God,—then I -would be just a drifting relic, on the ocean of chance, unnoticed, -unloved—ALONE. It seemed too hard, too cruel. Yet even amid the -distracting misery of this anticipation, a curious malignancy of -suspicion—No, not that—a pained wonder surprised me. Did Gabrielle -love Sebastien Quintado? Did she seek him in Heaven? And Dora? What -about her?</p> - -<p>I lifted my eyes above into the magnificence that now enveloped our -earth—this unearthly vapor or emission of spirits—and there above me -in the air I saw the figure of Sebastien. The face above it was grave -and smiling, the lips seemed moving in salutation, although I heard -nothing. A form leaped past me. It was Gabrielle. Her outstretched -arms were raised to the pallid spectre. The tableau lasted for a few -minutes, and then the spirit shape vanished into the effluence above -and around us. Gabrielle returned to my side.</p> - -<p>"Alfred; come. Sebastien says the Spell of Heaven is on the Earth. -He says, '<i>Go and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> See.</i>' God's manifestation confounds the purposes -of men. '<i>Go and See.</i>' Come Alfred, I have new strength, new power. -Nothing now can tire me. COME."</p> - -<p>So silently, hand in hand, we walked through the groves, the hawthorn -trees, the old grass clothed mounds, past mimic lakes reflecting the -supernal fires, as though the moon shone on them, but diversified -with the play of incomputable radiances, past the last long slope of -meadow and out into the horrified, worshipping multitudes, making our -way on, and on, and on, over the five mile walk to the trenches of the -soldiers. My inquisitive thoughts left nothing unessayed, untried, -unseen. And this is what I saw.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Beyond La Ferté stretched a diversified country-side, roads and fields, -sloping descents into meadow-like expanses, whose grass and sedges were -interrupted by low wooded islets, taller hillsides crowned by farm -houses, thin strips of forest land, and uneven half hummocky ranges of -elevations, crowding down upon narrow and shallow streams, with broader -sweeps of scarcely undulating land, spreading upward to chalk terraces -on the horizon, where burrowed the hidden chained chambers of the army, -the masked batteries, the mud pasted trenches.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> - -<p>Everywhere were the people. They were the most numerous on the roads, -where the blockade of carriages, vehicles, automobiles extended for -miles. The fences were lined with spectators and over the farm-lands, -in groups, and families, or sometimes in packed crowds, the populace -was encountered.</p> - -<p>We passed amongst them almost unnoticed. Here was a group of peasant -folk kneeling on the grass, and led in prayer by a parson or a -priest. Here others stood in mute masses, gazing upward aghast, or -thrilled, or motionless, and numbed as in a trance. But there were -exciting contrasts to all this immobility. Men were shouting with -delirium; women singing in strident unison, their harsh voices rising -in vocal yelps of pious song; in places I saw colonies thrown down -upon the ground, men and women and children, rolling over and back -again, against each other, in a queer rhythmic way, like some bed of -mechanical reciprocating cylinders. It was almost ludicrous. Young men -had climbed the trees, and their bodies bored the white radiance that -enveloped the earth, with black patches, like spots of gloom. The roofs -of the farmhouses and those of a few little villages we passed through -were sometimes thickly invested with people, and against the lambent -horizon they made serrated hedges of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> heads, broken now and again with -ejaculating hands and arms.</p> - -<p>I stood a little while at the back of a dairy—<i>laiterie</i>—where a -milkmaid on her knees, working the white rosary in her hands, was -surrounded by a knot of small children. Their prattle was infinitely -pleasing. For an instant it seemed to conciliate the monstrous prodigy -about us with things human and ordinary.</p> - -<p>"<i>Comme, il est beau!</i>" cried a small boy with his hands clapping in -delight. "<i>Je crois que les anges descendent sur la terre; n'est ce -pas?</i>" and he nudged the oblivious milkmaid who stuck persistently to -her rosary.</p> - -<p>"Ah, well," said a still smaller girl, "I think they are fairies—all -those shining spots—and they come to live with us and help us. -<i>Voila.</i>"</p> - -<p>"Ah then we shall have anything we wish—toys and good clothes I -guess," muttered a rather larger girl.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Bertha, but you must be very good and not kick Margarite. The -fairies are—are—<i>tres particulières</i>. <i>Ils n'aiment pas les filles -méchantes.</i>"</p> - -<p>"But where—where," asked another boy, pushing his way forward among -the others, "where did the fairies get so many candles? <i>Pas en Ciel?</i>"</p> - -<p>I looked up; there was now a startling glory in the spectacle. The -white enveloping banks of ghostly things had become tremulous with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> -countless flickering spires of light, so slightly different from the -quality of the entire luminousness, that they appeared and disappeared, -with an incessant discontinuity that produced the effect of an interior -commotion most strangely beautiful.</p> - -<p>We passed from the <i>laiterie</i> into an open pasture, where the cows, -motionless and resting, continued to chew their cuds, apathetic and -unmoved, while from point to point, marking the houses on our way, -the dismayed dogs kept up their long prolonged baying, howls, and -half suppressed growls. It was hard to believe that we were still in -quite the usual world. Gabrielle retained her composure, and showed no -symptoms of exhaustion. I feared her sudden collapse under the double -strain of the mere muscular exertion, and that nervous preoccupation -that drove her onward to the trenches. The rising ground to a higher -hill indicated the approaching terminus of our fevered journey.</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, let us stay here a few minutes. Why kill yourself with this -rapid gait? Besides, the morning comes, and then it will be time—quite -time enough."</p> - -<p>"Yes Alfred, I am quite willing. For a little time past I have noticed -the fading of the light. Quintado said that in the daytime the host -of the dead would be invisible though their influence would stay. -Here—let us sit down and watch."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> - -<p>The place was propitious, a deserted shelter for cattle with a few -benches in it, and facing the east.</p> - -<p>For a while at least all our thoughts were absorbed in the marvelous -atmospheric—if I might so term it—mutations taking place in the sky -around us or above us. It almost seemed that we had left the earth, and -had become part and participants in some vast celestial panorama; as -if, under the magic of some incalculable influence and REVELATION, we -were entering on the sublimities of Heaven.</p> - -<p>The horizon lights as the sun toiled upward were clearly seen. There -was first against the earth-rim a high wall of grey-blue clouds, their -precipitous heights crowned with parapets, and these last glowing -with gold. Later, and above the slowly dissolving cloud walls there -developed reefs of separated islets, faintly roseate, moored off -from a blue-grey shore, over which rose cloud dunes, themselves also -acknowledging the coming of the day with faintest blushes, and then -below the reefs taking the places of the parapeted walls, a pearly -sky. And <i>then</i>, an almost instantaneous splendor of multiplied -iridescences in the Ghost-Cloud before us, either a physical refraction -or some supernatural addition, obliterated the sunrise, and flung -far and wide its intolerable brilliancies. We sank to our knees -in a trance of adoration. How long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> we remained kneeling I cannot -say. From time to time I raised my eyes; Gabrielle never moved. The -colored scintillations were inscrutably piercing and varied; the whole -celestial radiance was shot through and through with the compounded -glories of thousands and thousands of rainbows. And then it faded, -<i>faded</i>, the lights dropping out in broken fashion, now here, now -there, until all was gone, and the uncovered sun lifted its round -orb above the hills, and spread its native light over the earth, -and the familiarity of that same earth itself was all resumed. The -MANIFESTATION had vanished.</p> - -<p>When I looked around me, the country-side there was bare of people. -Perhaps they had fled; perhaps that portion of the land had not been -visited. We had walked now about four and a half miles, and, gazing -ahead, I saw the hills littered with <i>prostrate figures—the motionless -thousands of soldiers along the lines of the trenches</i>! We had reached -the PARALYSIS, that now held the armies of a continent in its awful -chancery. And—God be Praised—this was the END.</p> - -<p>Some distance behind the shed where we had taken our rest was a farm -house, and, though not a sign of life distinguished it, it offered -the only visible opportunity for securing nourishment, and of that -both Gabrielle and I felt the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> need. The walk had been long, and the -excitement, the fierce turmoil and agitation of our thoughts and the -dazed exhaustion of our senses demanded succor. We quickly walked back -to it and entered the open door that led into its small chambers. It -was deserted. I called aloud, but there was no answer, and opening -door after door, mounted the steps to the attic, and studying from -that elevation the neighborhood, I could see no one. We seemed to have -reached a point which was far away from the crowds we had at first -encountered. Had some resistless panic driven them back? OR—had the -Paralysis seized them, and thrown them everywhere to the ground and, -thus inert, they lay in the distances, undiscovered, undiscoverable? -The wonder had been realized by myself over our apparent immunity -from the dread coercion of this omnipresent stupor. How was that to -be explained? Ah—how was anything to be explained? At least—if -explanations must be sought—I thought it was the preserving graces of -Gabrielle that lifted from us the covenanted affliction.</p> - -<p>When I returned to the diminutive kitchen filled with the utensils -of domestic use, with its unmade fire, where had been gathered the -sticks and peat for its sustention, and with the pantries stocked -with the humble provisions of the poor peasantry, I was overcome -with a savage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> resentment. To what end, conceived of under the -most accommodating suffrages of Faith and Religion, could all this -wretchedness, the starved desolation of a country-side, serve? Nay, -the utter subversion of a nation upon whose bent shoulders now would -weigh the insufferable and unredeemable burden of an incalculable -debt—a nation, too, groaning aloud with the wounds of bereavement, -of sorrows, that a life-time would never heal. Oh! how desolating, -how harsh and unrelenting it seemed—the blackness of a huge despair -overtaxed me. I sank to the table with outspread arms, and burst into -sobs of utter, direful misery. I felt the caress of Gabrielle, I heard -her sweet comforting voice, I felt her tender lips press my cheeks—her -very breath seemed the incense of an offering to God. And would my -SISTER be added to the necessary sacrifices? The thought stung me -into madness. My old revolt and rebellion, that which had momentarily -defied the purposes of the Most High when Blanchette died, arose again, -revengeful, blaspheming, sharply irreconcilable. And then, even then, -an inexpressible mystery blessed me.</p> - -<p>I lost consciousness—consciousness to earth—but I entered the gates -of a dreamland, blessed with prophecy. I was in flight, rapid flight, -and my way surmounted the mountain heights, and yet to my eyes nothing -was hid upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> earth. It was too this same Europe. I swept over -the cities of France, over the sunlit loveliness of its country, -now far off into the bordering areas of Belgium, and again over the -dike-seamed, flat-lands of Holland, and then with a monstrous swing -that clove the air with the mighty speed of thought, I looked down upon -the fair provinces of Germany, of Austria, of Italy—it even seemed -that for an instant I stood upon the endless plains of Russia, and even -surveyed the minarets of Constantinople, and everywhere in all of that -measureless domain there was PEACE. Over the fresh verdure of England -I returned, and ever and again renewed my flight, as if the gracious -beauty of the smiling lands, creased with scouring trains, their rivers -brimful of traffic, prosperous with teaming markets, and gay with merry -life, was too sweet and bountiful a picture not to be rehearsed to -satiety. I saw the flags of all the countries waving in their cities, -but above them all too I thought I saw another flag that waved with -them, and this second flag was everywhere the <i>same</i>—it was the Flag -of BROTHERHOOD, and it meant the consolidation of the nations in a -Brotherhood of States. I heard the music of the songs of the people, -ascending from the homes of the whole continent, and the sound of bells -ringing in the churches, and the hum of an incessant industry, and the -murmur, like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> the unceasing murmur of the ocean, of the sons of men -at their daily tasks, and the instantaneous realization came to me, -that at length Europe had put aside its soldiery, its mighty guns, the -hideous ingenuity of its death factories, the useless edifices of its -Class Mummeries and Families, and all of the venomous pride of Title, -and Europe had turned its beseeching eyes to the future, unlearning -the barbarity of its past, and working and planning and divining the -things that would bring upon the Earth <i>Peace, Good-Will to Men</i>. And -then it seemed to me that as I wondered and laughed in the depthless -joy of this realization, that a voice like the Voice of God, filled the -empyrean wherein I sailed, and it said:</p> - -<p class="center">"FOR THIS END CAME I INTO THE WORLD."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We threaded our way through the thickly filled ranks of soldiers—we -had passed by the wagons of ammunition, the ambulance corps, the vast -<i>enceinte</i> of kitchen equipments—and everywhere was the stupefaction -of utter apathy, here and there in individuals beginning to assume -consciousness, with the twitching pains of increasing misery, that -we had been told would be both physical and mental, the double -excruciation of pain and remorse. But what a sight!</p> - -<p>The inveterate poignancy of my wonder and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> my curious freedom from the -omnipresent influence—derived somehow from Gabrielle's immunity—kept -me vigilant and observing. Gabrielle was constantly at my side, but -she seemed less intent upon seeing, as upon ceaselessly going on. We -advanced carefully between files of men, from whose hands guns and -swords had fallen, as their owners succumbed to the incredible stupor. -The relaxed arms had dropped the guns, the nerveless fingers released -the control, the stricken bodies had reeled to the ground. We stepped -over the motionless heaps of men who had sunk together in twisted -groups of overlaid bodies and sprawling limbs—as I had seen the dead -at Landrecies and at Coulommiers—steeped in this etherial opiate. We -came upon battalions of cavalry slowly dissolving in a confusion of -riderless horses. The riders had fallen from their saddles, or lay -forward upon the necks of their horses, as if drugged with sleep. The -horses were moving this way and that, confused, startled, neighing in -their bewilderment, or, with wild eyes, struggling in broken companies -to escape the weird strangeness of being unbidden, missing the familiar -voices, the guiding check. Numbers slowly ambled away, their masters -falling to the ground, pulling the belly-bands of the saddles after -them, while, most miraculously, their imprisoned feet freed themselves -from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> stirrups, and the disengaged animals moved continuously away.</p> - -<p>In the trickery of this supernatural stagnation there was no -real panic among the animals, and the horses watching the ground -seemed instinct with intelligence. <i>I felt DIRECTION over-ruling -circumstance.</i> Occasionally incongruous predicaments arose, as when -a cavalry man had fallen backward over his horse's broad back, and -his head rolled slowly over the horse's rump with the latter's -oscillation. A few riders were dragged onward with the horses, but -they seemed finally to become disentangled and slumped to the ground. -It was a bizarre disorganization, wherein the rigorous modernity of -detail and preparation, had been hopelessly dispelled under a divine -disintegration.</p> - -<p>Indeed a portentous trance had gripped the millions of men. In its -ensnarement they lay like corpses, hither, thither, rolled into masses, -carpeting the ground in phalanxes, drooping upon each other in mimic -embraces, or leaning in thick palisades of bodies like clustered logs. -It seemed a vast immeasurable inebriety.</p> - -<p>And the shadowy host? Where was it? The daylight illumined the -interminable vistas. The wind blew softly over a spring landscape. The -white flecks of clouds drifted as usual across the feebly bluescent -sky. Nothing on earth was different except this palsied host,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> before, -behind, around us. The similitudes from legend and romance came to -my mind; the bolstered court in the Sleeping Beauty, the stricken -seneschals in Consuelo, the death masque in Vathek, the rigid warriors -with Frederick Barbarossa in the subterranean halls of earth, waiting -their summons to leap forth in battle, the lifeless bodies in the pit -that Sinbad saw.</p> - -<p>But the invisible PRESENCE that held this world of men stiffened into -immobility. What was it? Where was it? We moved through it, Gabrielle -and I, but felt nothing; nothing more than the faintly heated air of -spring. Would it shine illimitably again at night? Well, we should see. -And the <i>Enemy</i>—How was it with them? The thought made us hasten.</p> - -<p>We had walked until noon, and had reached the trenches. There stretched -the pitch-forked angular line, the shelters, the dug-outs, the wire -embarbments, the peering snouts of cannon. Men had crawled out and -lay recumbent in the full light unharmed. We stole furtively into -one subterranean cave. Behind the front space against a wall of half -dripping clay ran backward a narrow room. In its centre a table was -spread with the rude service of dishes, and behind that again a ruder -grotto held a fire-place where a blaze of wood was charring a forgotten -leg of mutton. Around the table slept twenty men, and an officer at its -head groaned un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>easily. Boyau after boyau was entered, and always the -arrested work, the drugged sleepers. From point to point, like rabbits -hanging on the lips of their warrens, men were revealed, half exposed, -half hidden. But no murderous fire despatched them. The enemy too -slumbered. We looked that way. The ground over which our eyes searched -eastward and northward, was ploughed with the horrid ruts of shells, -beaten into mud slowly drying in barren cankerous tracts of dust, or -gouged with holes, while mounds rose intermittently, whose washed sides -disclosed the limbs of buried men. Perhaps half a kilometre away on -hillsides, in valleys, through the frayed margins of woods, thrashed -into splinters by the shells, ran a crease, like a smeared titanic -pencil mark, where now we knew the Teuton, the unspeakable Boche, -snored unresistingly and oblivious.</p> - -<p>We essayed the experiment of seeing if it was indeed so. In the dying -day we crossed that silent tract, and safely, in a zone which for -months had trembled beneath the explosions of shells, where sudden -sorties had filled it with the clash of arms, or sent along its pale -yellow and black surfaces the groans, the prayers, the gasps of dying -soldiers. Now it was a graveyard only, and as silent as the place of -tombs. We entered the lines of the enemy—and there—stark in the -embrace of the Paralysis the mighty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> German, officer and men, yes, -generals and—at the very point of our first contact with them—a -prince too, rolled ignominiously together, in the suffocation of this -asphyxia. It was a humiliating discomfiture. It confounded appreciation -for distinction. They were thrown down along the banks in droves, and -backward in the avenues of approach the legions upon legions slept. -It made me think of the rafts of logs upon Texan rivers caught in -inextricable confusion, tilted, submerged, locked, and tumbling over -each other in heaving booms, as the tides jammed them together in -thicker and denser snags.</p> - -<p>Strangely unbelievable it seemed, those stunned masses of men! The -setting sun sent its rays upon them and, through an exact orientation -in spots of the serried helmets, they were returned in a blaze of -reflected light. We wandered on, along the edges of this sea of faces, -dreading to penetrate their ranks. There was an unearthly horribleness -in it all, as if an Universal Death had expelled Life from the earth, -and in the continental solitude <i>we</i> alone lived. I shuddered, with a -sickness of despair at my heart, wondering if indeed we should see the -dawn of the Last Judgment.</p> - -<p>And now a marvelous thing happened. Gabrielle and I had retreated -from the German line, slowly, with bowed heads hurrying towards our -countrymen, when, as the day darkened, the air<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> above us, with an -infinity of sparklings, like a scattered ignition in combustibles, -resumed slowly its supernatural brilliancy. The great ghost bank -enveloped us. We quailed beneath it. We clung together, thrilled and -speechless, in the immersing splendors of the heavenly light; the -radiance of unnumbered souls. We could not see within it as we had seen -when without its limits. It dazzled our eyes, and for the first time I -felt a singular numbness creeping upward in my limbs, an insuperable -heaviness in my head, and dull reiterating beats in my ears. Gabrielle -seemed almost lifeless.</p> - -<p>The ghost mass was vital with movement, there was indeed a low -decrepitation in the spaces above us, and an incessant arrowy flight -of forms, or veils of forms, where, too, faces shone, half traceable -in features, half blurred, as in a sheen that erased them, as soon as -seen. And those faces! They were not the presentiments of color and -shade and shadow, perhaps, as a pictorial fact. No, not that—they were -evocative lights, that created in my mind's eye, an image as it were, -of a living face, and they were most solemn, most sad; in them dwelt an -irretrievable impress of desolation. A wave of gloom overwhelmed me. -The ground beneath me seemed sinking, I caught Gabrielle to my breast, -and, as if in an engulfing swarm of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> myriads and myriads of stars, I -fell to the ground.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The day had again risen, and our neighborhoods still showed the -recumbent acres of motionless figures—we had moved on far to the north -and westward—the huge aggregations had here drawn together and the -trench lines of the hostile armies were scarcely three hundred metres -apart. In the French and in the German battalions that indescribable -unrest of FEAR that Quintado had predicted was now easily detected. -This opened up a more singular and a deeply interesting panorama. -By ones and twos, by hundreds and by thousands, slowly, slowly, the -immense leaven of repentance of the unsearchable agony of a mingled -moral and physical pain, was lifting them from the first stupor, -and we could see the figures struggling to their feet, we could see -their dazed, horrified, and distorted features, their exchanges of -questioning glances, almost as if in their friends, they saw their -foes. Nothing more utterly diableresque could be imagined.</p> - -<p>Over ourselves had now been developed a great change of feeling. It was -the second day of the miraculous intervention, and we had become imbued -with the meaning of the miracle. It meant the End of the War, and it -meant too a startling Enlightenment. The nations should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> put an end to -their insane rivalries. The era of a divine economy and brotherhood -was about to dawn upon the puerile egotism of the world. A new insight -deep and revolutionary would adapt the coming centuries to new ends. -So an exultation born of this divination urged us to watch and record -the accuracy of the prediction. We became neutralized in sympathy by -reason of an exorbitant curiosity, and from camp to camp, turning now -to the enemy and now to the friend, we pursued our way, that monstrous -and wonderful day. The dramatic intensity of it—albeit not a word was -spoken in those marshalled millions—surpasses relation. At one moment -we watched a group of Germans starting to their feet with consternation -in their faces, their arms waving in protest, their features wearing -a hundred expressions, terror, maddened wonder, abject subjection, -grimness, a mixed commotion of tempers that rolled their eyes, and -jerked their lips, and contorted their limbs. And then these initial -emotions succumbed to the overpowering sense of torment, and on that -followed their convulsive efforts to rise and flee. And their flight -was impossible; their feet stuck to the earth, where they stood, and -their most violent efforts tumbled them headlong to the ground, and -thus quivering into quietness, like the palpitations of a dying animal, -they lay motionless.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> - -<p>At another moment we gazed upon the French, behind entanglements -of wire, with fierce-looking and harsh iron-toothed fences, near a -millsite where the shattering shells had ploughed their desolating way -through solid masonry, while beneath it the tortuous crawling boyaux -journeyed on for miles. Here was a company of the <i>chasseurs-a-pieds</i>, -the bravest of the Frenchmen whose dauntless courage and resolution in -the face of death, like some fatalistic spell, had made them motionless -under fire, and furious, with a whirlwind of roused premonitions of -success, in their lightning charges. I knew of them well. These stem -gallants of the battle field, were crowding the apertures of their -underground burrows, and many had pulled themselves into the remnants -of grass and clover, even sprinkled, as with dashes of blood, with -carmine blossoms, at the lips of their retreats. Their faces expressed, -with a wide difference of interior consciousness, the same amazement -that had clouded the German faces, but here, in the Frenchmen, the -amazement participated with a half revealed penitence, the stricken -sense of sorrow, and of an awakening realization of an oncoming -transformation. Intelligence beautified its misery with the colors -of a mild, yes, an expostulating contrition. I watched them with an -understanding sympathy. The dismay, the terror even, was all there, -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> that distinguishable physical suffering that was the prologue -to their mutual surrender to the mission of Peace that the Spirits -brought. But what else was there? Was that invisible multitude of the -dead individualized to each and every man of the vast armies? Did these -men, thus quenched in the waters of a mental and bodily affliction, -hear unspoken words, see the faces of their lost comrades, and did -they feel the piercing ardor of their contact with the revealing dead? -Who shall say? As with the Germans they too had essayed Flight, and -their will was helpless in the strangling grip of the vast prostration. -<i>There</i> stayed the tremendous equipment of the nation, helpless as a -nursery of children.</p> - -<p>I spoke to these men, bending over them with Gabrielle, but there was -no recognition. They stared at me as if eyeless, or deprived of vision. -If I shouted in their ears, there was no response. If I tugged at their -limbs they acted as inert figures of clay. And yet there was expression -in their faces. What could it mean? Was all their attention focussed -upon an interior illumination while their outward senses remained -calloused in some impossible apathy?</p> - -<p>And then we approached the lines of the stalwart English fighters. -At one point spread a cantonment of infantry, rayed with bands of -artillery, and flanked by the surcharged batta<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>lions of horsemen. The -field view was picturesque. It was east of Landrecies where early in -the war the English had met the Germans in withering combat. It was a -shallow sweeping basin-like valley, between two wooded hills, where -the thick set trees, shielded by some whim of accident, yet preserved -their branches and uncrippled growth, and wore the blazonry of -spring. A narrow stream crossed by a hump-backed bridge traversed the -foreground, and beyond the stream eastward rolled a meadowland. Beyond -that somewhere lay the slumbering Germans. But their puissant foes were -slumbering too. The valley stretch was filled, like an overflowing -bowl, with the English troops, and in hedges, in human sheaves, in -rows, as in wind-swept, rain-beaten fields of high grass, the soldiers -tossed their pain-racked bodies. We had become accustomed to the -grotesque predicament and entered the camps, where we were tempted by -the rudeness or wonder of the spectacle, with a stolid confidence. Our -own strength too seemed inexhaustible. We were immune from the wide -gathering Paralysis. Indeed a sort of exultation now surged within us -as we began to see that Quintado's prophecy approached its certain -conclusion, the END of the WAR. It almost filled us with gayety. We -could have shouted a <i>Te Deum</i>.</p> - -<p>I pointed out to Gabrielle a low farm house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> upon the northern -hillside, and we made our way there among the masses of men, actually -stepping upon them, as though they clothed the ground with a human -corduroy. We opened the swinging door and walked into a room fitted -out as a headquarters. Its floor was dotted with the recumbent figures -of officers. Those mighty men plotting their strategies had been -overcome by a strategy more sublime, and overthrown, with the benumbing -exhalations of the heavenly armies, sprawled upon the tables, over the -chairs, and the General curled ludicrously upon the floor. I could have -laughed at the humiliation of the scene, except that for an instant I -doubted my senses. It had all the inane inconsequence of a dream.</p> - -<p>Behind the front room of the little house was a messroom, and there -the same talismanic somnolence had pitched its occupants on floor and -table. I gathered some untouched food, and Gabrielle and I retreated. -As we emerged and our eyes surveyed the prodigious <i>debacle</i>, there -rose from the disordered companies a titanic sigh—like the possible -suspiration of an agonized monster—and visibly those thousands, -weltering together in panic, rose to their feet, and with uplifted -arms, their fingers clutching convulsively at nothing, struggled -mightily to move. It was as Quintado had spoken:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<i>There will be no Flight; the pain will manacle their feet, will -stifle their voices, will wither their wills—one monstrous Stupor -will overcome them, and for three days, like the men overcome with -sleep that watched the Apostle Saint Peter in the prison the armies of -the Nations will sleep—Ay, and sleep in PAIN.</i>"</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We were in the environs of Arras, and it was the very evening of the -third day. Our pilgrimage had passed along the zigzagging frontiers -of the marshalled armies, and everywhere it had been the same—the -coma, the recurrent efforts at escape, the nerveless surrender to -imprisonment. And what was happening beyond those frontiers of the -armies we knew nothing of. In the civilian populations of France and of -Germany, and beyond them in the widened circles of national conflict, -in England, in Russia, in Belgium, in Turkey, and the Balkans was -this tremendous visitation recognized? Was the strange metempsychosis -effecting there too its intangible reconciliations? Between the double -cordon of the armies, moving along the broad and narrow corridor -that separated their lines, we were excluded from the world. Around -us lay the sleepers, shuddering in unutterable nightmares, and in -our diversified roadway there was nothing but the ruins of villages, -the shattered walls, the holed ground, the catacombs of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> trenches, -deflowered woods, the sinuous storm-marked track of war's desolation. -We, Gabrielle and I, alone lived in this camerated solitude. But it was -the third day and then—what? Ah, what indeed?</p> - -<p>We had made great strides toward the north, and our rapid march had -been hastened by the use of the horses of the troopers. I was not -unfamiliar—from my experiences in Texas—with the management of -horses and in this living cenotaph wherein we moved the animals alone -seemed living. Everywhere they were found strayed and masterless, -and seemingly confused, foraging as best they might upon the scanty -herbage, in the ruined fields, and probably escaping beyond the army -confines into the surrounding country. I found two most serviceable -mares, and, as Gabrielle was a good <i>equestrienne</i>, our journey was -more rapid, while it too grew more and more fabulous, gathering to -itself like a figment of fiction, the unreal, the incredible and in it -rested the <i>denouement</i> of a great mystery. All through the night, the -dazzling luminousness dwelt upon the earth, all the day it was unseen, -though potent, and now the termination of its mission drew near. What -then?</p> - -<p>Near Vitry between Arras and Douay is a raised mound, a long softly -swelling protuberance in the undulating landscape, uncrowned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> by any -structure. The village lies somewhere west of it, and it commands, -almost uninterruptedly, the view running north and south through the -avenue of a slightly winding valley. You can see the village lights -from its summit, and you can hear the church bells there too, when the -wind is west. It was on this modest elevation that we pitched our camp, -when the ghost fog "<i>lifted</i>." Almost, as if at the finale of a grand -play, Gabrielle and I waited for that last night. The day died slowly -and it grew colder. Thin clouds thickened into denser volumes and the -sky became overcast. Starlets of snow dropped through the air. A timely -shelter was provided for us in the barracks of an old sheepfold, and -the thoughtful provision of some blankets, taken by me from one of -the camps, kept us warm, and so we watched the fading day. Again, as -always, that outpoured ocean of light, less shimmering than at first, -less moving, less inconstant with variation, as if in the very thought -of its countless denizens the premonition of retreat made a thoughtful -stillness. We did not tremble as at first, at its envelopment, rather -it seemed a benison of blessed promises. It lay over the armies, it -penetrated them, soaking them with the flood of its spiritual waves, an -effluence indescribably, insufferably desolating. To us it was simply -an unnatural splendor.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> - -<p>As the night came on Gabrielle became <i>distrait</i> and restless. I feared -again some nervous breakdown. There was a deeper fear. The fear of -spoliation, her robbery from me by the mystic invaders, the evocation -of her very soul into that retiring vortex of spiritual life. She -should not go. I pressed her closely to me. I kissed her lips, and -muttered, as if in desperation that she should promise me, not to -follow that elusive host. My terror rose because she did not answer. It -almost seemed that she did not hear me. What other voices stole, were -stealing, away her allegiance?</p> - -<p>At midnight the glory of the light was supreme. It became a homogeneous -radiance, like the solid glow of the melted metals in the furnaces. An -hour later great billows coursed through it, and the wavering crests -smote each other, and when this collision occurred the light darkened -with broad paths of extinction; an instant after the glooms vanished -in the recurrent glory. It was then that I saw currents in flashing -streams, push upward, and then more, and more, and more, as if, sucked -up into some opening receptacle, the conflux had begun to separate -itself from the earth. Its swift motion begot a sound like the trilling -of innumerable violins, a keen and yet delicate staccato of quick -notes, and suddenly looking over towards the horizon, I realized that -indeed the whole com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>position, complex, and solution was sinking upward -into the zenith. And Gabrielle?</p> - -<p>I caught her in my arms more closely, and in the sepulchral light saw -her face as if filmed already with the pallor of death. A smile gleamed -there too, and a voice spoke in my ears. I looked above me. Again -that haunting form and face of Sebastien Quintado, and with it—O my -God—the entwined wraith of my sister. The dead body was in my arms, -the <i>creature</i> was fleeing beyond my hold. I sprang to my feet, and yet -clinging to the dead figure of Gabrielle, lying on my breast, I raised -an imploring hand, and cried out in the oncoming darkness—fit symbol -of my despair:</p> - -<p>"Gabrielle, is this your love? You know that Life is now my prison. -Return! Return!"</p> - -<p>If human effort could have torn my own soul from my body, then, there, -I would have wrecked my substance, and flown with her in the cosmic -tide of the disembodied. But human effort waits only on the decrees of -Fate. It was not to be. I still saw with enthralled eyes the rising -figures of Quintado and of Gabrielle. The irretrievable misery of it -half maddened me, and again I cried out, with might and main rending -the silences around me with the fierce invocation: "God! God! Give me -back my sister!"</p> - -<p>And then, benumbed with wonder, I saw the shades part, and slowly -descending upon me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> the figure of Gabrielle, like some floating dream -of shape, drew near. It stopped above my head, and the face bent -forward, and the lips—those sweet lips of truth and innocence—opened, -and to me came the REVELATION.</p> - -<p>"Alfred! Alfred! There can be no separation between loving hearts. I -shall always be with you. But it is appointed that there are times and -seasons. I am called, you remain. Life and Death have no meaning to the -immortal soul. It is in both the same. The vapor that melts in the air -is still there; a moment's colder breath might bring it back again. -Perhaps I shall return, perhaps not, perhaps you may come to me, but -through the eternal series of designs that God weaves with Life and -Death an immortal purpose runs. It is the Salvation of Mankind. Watch -how even now it shall be upon the earth. These spirits, rent from all -they loved, in this ministration of their return, have sanctified the -hearts of men to a new consecration of endless PEACE upon the earth. -The Death of thousands brings with it the irreversible decree of the -Life of Reconciliation."</p> - -<p>The voice was heard no more. With the rapture of my love I watched -the last ghostly remnant of that beloved being fade upward, into the -swiftly racing tides, forever out of my sight. On me the cruel burden -of taking up life alone had been insupportably laid. I think that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> -was then that I ran forward and gazed around the hillside, looking -towards Vitry, and searched the sky. There above me fled the last -meteoric trails, like phosphorescent skeins. I could see the eclipsed -stars reappear through them. It was—so I recall it—as if a cupola of -shining walls opened in the very centre of the Firmament, and, rushing -through it, a tiny spark. Was that the fleeting soul of Gabrielle? -Strained beyond endurance, agonized by the vehement protest of my -despairing heart, the hope of even then rejoining her roused me to a -sudden murderous resolve. I had seen a shepherd's knife left in the -sheepcote. That should cut the loosening knot of Life. I found it, and -then—there arose somewhere from illimitable distances, and from the -neighborhoods about me, an unearthly muffled groan, like a cry buried -in the ground, and heard in stifled shouts. It froze the blood, for -it half seemed as if the corpses of the slain everywhere about, were -speaking from their graves, the raucous outcry of mutilated bodies. A -moment later I forgot my suicidal intent. The sentence from Isaiah that -Quintado had spoken to Gabrielle, rang in my ears; rang like a trumpet.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"<i>And they shall be brought down, and shall speak out of the ground, -and their speech shall be low out of the dust, and their voice shall -be, as of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> one that hath a familiar spirit, out of the ground, and -their speech shall whisper out of the dust.</i>"</p></blockquote> - -<p><i>The great groan was the utterance of the embattled millions, coming to -consciousness.</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></p> - -<p class="center">THE CONCLUSION</p> - - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">The</span> Great War is over. There is peace in Europe. It is now five years -since the armies of the nations succumbed in terror to the incursions -of the Spirits. And there is peace in St. Choiseul. Our old home is -unchanged except that some familiar faces and some familiar voices are -not seen or heard within its walls now—not all. Privat Deschat lives -and Père Grandin and Père Antoine, and Dora is here, and our little -housekeeper Julie. But the <i>Capitaine</i> is dead, and old Hortense, -and—Ah that you know—Gabrielle is gone.</p> - -<p>Tonight the wide country-side is wonderful with its snow-blanket -and, with the moon lighting it up, shadows lie on the smooth white -banks like pencilled drawings, flat and black. I have regained -composure—perhaps happiness. At any rate St. Choiseul retains all of -its loveliness, and in the nursery of its beauty why should not the -heart grow calm. Visitors come often to see our house, and to see me. -Privat Deschat says I should lecture about the Visitation. That I would -make a king's ransom.</p> - -<p>But that I could not do. It would be just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> pure profanation. I do not -like to have the visitors. I talk to them in general phrases. Some -understand my reticence, and some are vexed. <i>Mais pourquoi?</i> How can -I go over and over again that miracle I have seen—the great miracle -of the war? <i>See</i>, I have written this little book, so that I may no -longer endure this intrusion, and now I have only to ask "Have you read -my book?"</p> - -<p>Sometimes it is an Englishman who remonstrates, with:</p> - -<p>"But my dear sir; it is the living voice I want, the voice of the man -who witnessed the Descent of the Dead. And then there are impressions -that no book fairly gives—your own exact feeling you know—that is -what I am after. Don't you see? It was a very remarkable circumstance."</p> - -<p>Sometimes it is an American:</p> - -<p>"Well! Well! That gets ahead of anything I ever knew. Weren't you -shaken up a bit? Strikes me that my life would have been scared out of -my body. Now let us have the whole thing."</p> - -<p>These pertinacities and irrelevant curiosities I could not endure, -and Dora urged me to write the book, and so at last it is written, -and the world may now know the very truth of the matter—the truth as -well as I can give it, for even now I sometimes feel as if I had been -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> toy of an illusion. And yet see the proofs. Is there not peace? -Did not Gabrielle leave me? Is it not well known that the very day -after the visions disappeared, the stir in the camps began? Is it not -a common attested fact that the droves of soldiers broke out from all -command—indeed that there was no command, the officers with the men -being seized with one irresistible impulse—and streamed in disordered -legions, over the country, seeking, this way and that, their homes, -and hurting no one; all reduced to a childlike weariness of limb and -spirit? And have not the lengthy histories recorded the voluntary -abandonment of the war by the soldiers and their officers, despite -what the bigger men and the so-called rulers wished? And was there not -wholesale rejoicing everywhere, and were not the churches crowded to -the doors, and did not the flocking multitudes improvise services in -the fields, and on the roadways? And then came the signed manifestoes -of the troops, that nothing in heaven, or on the earth, would drive -them back to the trenches—that it was God's will that the carnage and -the wretchedness of the whole business—<i>l'affaire entière</i>—should be -put an end to?</p> - -<p>And how was it with the governments?</p> - -<p>They "surrendered" as the Americans say. They put their wise heads -together and did for the first time what the people said they -should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> do. And—again the good American slang—"<i>there was no back -talk</i>." They did it. And how is it now? Where are the huge military -establishments—where the drill, drill, drill, of uniformed and -gun-carrying men, where the war bureaus and the generals, where that -"power of the sword" that the Teuton blindly worshipped, where the -Gospel of Power? Blotted out, and in its place the sanctification of -Peace. The vision I had on that battlefield, when Gabrielle and I -walked in the midst of the unshriven dead has been realized. <i>The flags -of the nations wave still, but with them waves the flag of their common -Brotherhood.</i></p> - -<p>Well, I am no great writer. I must not attempt eloquence. Let the -historians and the essayists do that. What I think I saw, I <i>must</i> have -seen, for what I see about me, everyone else sees, and this latter -thing is the child of the former thing.</p> - -<p>Reader are you content? The wonderfulness of the repatriation of the -soldiers, as they swept from the battlefields and got back to the -natural tasks of life has been written about, in hundreds of letters -and books. I have given you the entire history of the strange event, -that brought all that about. Again I ask: "Are you content?"</p> - -<p>In years I am yet young, but I am old in spirit. The sharp experiences -I have passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> through; the transcendent Miracle I have been a part of, -have delivered me from the trivial considerations of life. But too I -have my part in life, and the darling prettiness of St. Choiseul, the -noble friendship of Père Grandin, and the holy consolations of Père -Antoine, the honest service of Julie, are not unconsidered. And—<i>there -is Dora</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Sincèrement. 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