Out in the wheat-field, golden under a golden sun, I came suddenly on the young American soldier, lying dead, his face turned toward the Bois de Belleau. He was the stillest thing in all the silent countryside, ghostly quiet after the four-days’ din2 of battle, now gone forward and thundering on the horizon. Compared to his stillness, the wheat-stalks, broken and trampled3 as they were, seemed quivering conscious life; the trees, although half-shattered by the shell-fire, fluttered their bright leaves, vividly4 alive; the weeds by the roadside vibrated in triumph. They were wounded, mutilated, disfigured, but they had survived. They were alive. Only the soldier had not survived.
All men go a long journey to meet their death, through many days and months and years. But[134] he and his comrades had gone a longer than any man before them. They had passed through all those days and months and years; and more than that, across unending miles of those other wheat-fields in a far country and across the unending miles of the ocean they saw for the first time; but far more than that, they had crossed incalculable gulfs of traditions, of prejudice, of the tyranny of old, fixed5 ideas.
He had come a long journey, he had trod a new road, he was fighting a new fight, this soldier who had turned his back on the limitations of the past, who was making forward into the future with all the strength and faith of his young manhood, when he met his sudden destiny and lay down forever in a wheat-field of France.
There he lay in a blessed, blessed stillness, having done his best.
Being still alive, and so not permitted to lie down by him to rest, I left him, and returned to a great city, any great city—all great cities everywhere in the world being the same.
I stood before the door of a shop. I saw an old, thin, work-deformed woman cowering6 before[135] a well-fed man with a brutal7 voice who stood over her, angrily shouting at her that she had not sufficiently8 burnished9 the brass10 hinges of the great glass doors. With the rich abundance of the wheat-fields still golden before my eyes, I saw her cowering before him, all her sacred human dignity stripped from her by her need for food, by the fear of more hunger than even she could endure.
I saw a woman with a bloated, flabby body, strained together into a cohesion11 by steel bands, with a bloated, flabby face covered with red and white. Small glass-like pieces of white stone were thrust into the pierced flesh of her ears, gleamed on her protuberant12 bosom13, on her puffed14, useless fingers. With the roar of the distant battle still in my ears, I heard her saying, “The war is lasting15 too long! Lucette tells me that it’s impossible for her to get the right shade of silk for my corset; the only coiffeur who understands my hair has been sent to the front; and I have not had a bonbon16 in ten days.”
I saw a wretched, disinherited son of man, shaking with alcoholism, rotten with disease, livid[136] with hunger, undone17 with hopelessness, flung on a bench like a ragged18 sack of old bones. Only the palsied trembling of his dirty hands showed that he lived. But with the awful odor of real death still in my nostrils19, I perceived that he was alive, while the strong young soldier was dead.
I saw a man with a gross, pale countenance20, with white fine linen21 and smooth black broad-cloth, who stepped confidently forward, not deigning22 to lift his eyes to the crowd about him, sure that they would give way before the costliness23 of his ring and pin.
In his soft, white hands he held a newly printed newspaper which, open at the news from the stock exchange, he read with an expression of eager rapacity24. On his way stood a woman in all the fleshly radiance of her youth, with some of the holiness of youth still left on her painted mouth. She, looking at him hungrily, desperately25, forced his eyes up to meet hers. With the glory of the dead soldier still in my soul, I saw the rapacity in his eyes change to lust26, I saw an instant’s sickness in hers go out, quenched27 by the bravado28 of despair.
[137]Oh, American soldier, lying still in the wheat-field of France, did you come so far a journey to meet your death in order that all this might continue?
“Let us here highly resolve that all these dead shall not have died in vain....”
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1 dedicated | |
adj.一心一意的;献身的;热诚的 | |
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2 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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3 trampled | |
踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 ); 践踏; 无视; 侵犯 | |
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4 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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5 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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6 cowering | |
v.畏缩,抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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7 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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8 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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9 burnished | |
adj.抛光的,光亮的v.擦亮(金属等),磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 );被擦亮,磨光 | |
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10 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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11 cohesion | |
n.团结,凝结力 | |
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12 protuberant | |
adj.突出的,隆起的 | |
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13 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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14 puffed | |
adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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15 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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16 bonbon | |
n.棒棒糖;夹心糖 | |
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17 undone | |
a.未做完的,未完成的 | |
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18 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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19 nostrils | |
鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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20 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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21 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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22 deigning | |
v.屈尊,俯就( deign的现在分词 ) | |
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23 costliness | |
昂贵的 | |
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24 rapacity | |
n.贪婪,贪心,劫掠的欲望 | |
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25 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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26 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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27 quenched | |
解(渴)( quench的过去式和过去分词 ); 终止(某事物); (用水)扑灭(火焰等); 将(热物体)放入水中急速冷却 | |
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28 bravado | |
n.虚张声势,故作勇敢,逞能 | |
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