Part 28 (2/2)
Now he had time to conclude what he had to say to Marta.
”As your house will soon be under fire, it will be not refuge for the children; and, in any event, we should net want to leave them to the care of the Grays with the parents on our side,” he explained in a manner none the less final because of its politeness. ”Every detail has been systematically arranged under government supervision. Private efforts will only bring confusion and hards.h.i.+p where we would have order and all possible mercy. As for the old, the sick, and the infirm--those who cannot bear being carried far are being moved to the hospital and barracks outside the town.”
In proof of his words, ambulances and requisitioned carriages filled with the sick and infirm were already proceeding up one of the side streets.
”It's not human, though!” Marta exclaimed in the desperation of helplessness.
”No, it is war, which has a habit of being inhuman,” replied the major, turning to call to a woman: ”Now, madame, if you leave that pillow behind you will not be dropping your other things and having to stop all the time to pick them up!”
”But it's the finest goose feathers and last year's crop!” said the woman; and then gasped: ”Oh, Lord! I left my silver jug on the mantel!”
”As I've told you before--as the printed slips we distributed when we woke you at dawn told you,” said the major with some asperity, ”you were to take only light things easily portable, and after you had gone, wagons would get what you had packed and left ready at the door of your houses, with your names clearly marked, up to two hundred pounds. The rest we trust to the mercy of the Grays.”
There was nothing for Marta to do but start homeward. The thought that her mother was alone made her hasten at a pace much more rapid than the procession of people, whose talk and exclamations formed a monotone audible in its nearness, despite the continuous rifle-fire, now broken by the pounding of the guns.
”I wish I had brought the clock--it was my great-grandfather's.”
”Johnny, you keep close to me!”
”And they've taken my wife off to the hospital--separated us!”
Some were excruciatingly alive to the situation; others were in a daze.
But one cry always roused them from their complaints; always brought a flash to the dullest eye: Retribution! retribution! Taken from their peaceful pursuits arbitrarily by the final authority of physical force, which they could not dispute, their minds turned in primitive pa.s.sion to revenge through physical force.
”I hope our army makes them pay!”
”Yes, make them pay! Make them pay!”
”It's all done to beat the Grays, isn't it, Miss Galland? They are trying to take our land,” said Jacky Werther as Marta parted from him.
”Yes, it is done to beat the Grays,” she answered. ”Good luck, Jacky!”
Yes, yes, to beat the Grays! The same, idea--the fighting nature, the brute nature of man--animated both sides. Had the Browns really tried for peace? Had they, in the spirit of her oath, appealed to justice and reason? Why hadn't their premier before all the world said to the premier of the Grays, as one honest, friendly neighbor to another over a matter of dispute:
”We do not want war. We know you outnumber us, but we know you would not take advantage of that. If we are wrong we will make amends; if you are wrong we know that you will. Let us not play tricks in secret to gain points, we civilized nations, but be frank with each other. Let us not try to irritate each other or to influence our people, but to realize how much we have in common and that our only purpose is common progress and happiness.”
But no. This was against the precedent of Cain, who probably got Abel into a cul-de-sac, handed down to the keeping of the Roman aristocrat, the baron, the first Galland, and the fat, pompous little man. It would deprive armies of an occupation. It would make statesmans.h.i.+p too simple and nave to have the distinction of craft, which gave one man the right to lead another. Both sides had to act in the old fas.h.i.+on of mutual suspicion and chicanery.
She was overwrought in the fervor of her principles; she was in an anguish of protest. Her spirit, in arms against an overwhelming fact that was wrong, sinful, ridiculous, demanded some expression in action.
Now she was half running, both running away from horror and toward horror; in a shuttle of resolutions and emotions: a being at war with war. Pa.s.sing the head of the procession, she soon had the castle road to herself, except for orderlies on motor-cycles and horseback, until a train of automobile wagons loaded with household goods roared by. The full orchestra of war was playing right and left: cras.h.i.+ng, high-pitched gun-booms near at hand; low-pitched, reverberating gun-booms in the distance. At the turn of the road in front of the castle she saw the gunners of the batteries that Feller had watched approaching making an emplacement for their guns in a field of carrots that had not yet been harvested. The roots of golden yellow were mixed with the tossing spadefuls of earth.
A shadow like a great cloud in mad flight shot over the earth, and with the gunners she looked up to see a Gray dirigible. Already it was turning homeward; already it had gained its object as a scout. On the fragile platform of the gondola was a man, seemingly a human mite aiming a tiny toy gun. His target was one of the Brown aeroplanes.
”They're in danger of cutting their own envelope! They can't get the angle! The plane is too high!” exclaimed the artillery commander. Both he and his men forgot their work in watching the spectacle of aerial David against aerial Goliath. ”If our man lands with his little bomb, oh, my!” he grinned. ”That's why he is so high. He's been waiting up there.”
”Pray G.o.d he will!” exclaimed one of the gunners.
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