A raw division, with a scattering5 of Poles and Finns mixed with the straight Slav peasantry and regarded by the Russian war office, as Peter Mowbray understood at once, a ticklish6 proposition. The cement for this new service was “green” as yet; it had to set, required frequent wettings of fine humor and affiliation7. The marvel8 to Mowbray was that the thousands fell for it. They had practically all left something that was life and death to them—land, labor9, women, children. Each had established the beginnings at least of a personal connection in the world, and this relation had to be rubbed out. What had they been promised to take its place? Freedom, doubtless. But intrinsically they were free men.
Peter recalled what Fallows had said: that properly fathered this peasantry might be led into a citizenship10 and virtue11 that would change the world. Instead they were to be impregnated with every crime. With such thoughts Peter felt the spirit of Berthe Wyndham awake in his mind.
Seven days and not a breath from the outer world. The correspondents were allowed to move in and out of Kohlvihr's headquarters; and, though they paid richly for everything, were treated well, and regarded as guests by the staff officers. Peter had met Kohlvihr in Warsaw before the thought of war—a good-tempered, if dull and bibulous12 old man, he had seemed in the midst of semi-civilian routine; but a different party here afield. Peter recalled the saying of old sailors that you never know a skipper until you ship under him.
Moments of evening, in the sharp hazes13 of wood smoke, when the whole army seemed nestling into itself, laughing, covering its nostalgia14, putting on its strength, Peter met in certain moments the advisability of turning his back upon Boylan and Spenski and Samarc. The extraordinary nature of Berthe Wyndham would flood home to him, as to one to whom it belonged, very dear but very far.... He would smile when he thought of The States and the Old Man.... “He thinks I'm clutched in the ripping drama and waiting for blood,” he muttered, “that I am burning to stop the breath of the outer world with my story of gore15 and conquest.... But I'm eating his bread. I won't betray. There must be a wise way to feed the red melodramatic receptivity of the cities and at the same time to tell the real story.”
He stood in the midst of square miles of men and military engines. On every road other Russian forces moved southward and to the southeast. The railroads groaned16 with troops, for the most part in a better state of preparation than Kohlvihr's division. Rumors17 reached the staff, as they neared the Galician border, that the Austrian fields below were already bleeding; finally word came, as they turned eastward18, that they were to entrain at Fransic and make a junction19 with the main Russian columns preparing to invade Galicia from the northeast.
On the night before they entered Fransic, Mowbray awoke, and saw a figure sitting in the doorway20 of the little hut assigned them for quarters. It was Spenski, his face upturned in the starlight. He sat so still that Peter slipped out from the blankets (which covered Boylan as well) and took his place beside the lens-maker. Spenski was facing the east. The street of the little hill town lost itself in a sharp declivity21 just ahead; the nearer huts were low. The whole east was naked to the horizon and an indescribable glory of starlight.
“Aren't they amazing?” Spenski whispered. “It must be nearly morning, for those are the winter stars. I think they must have wakened me up. Do you know them?”
“Just the first magnitudes. They are more brilliant than I have ever known.”
Orion and a great kite of suns stood out with new and flashing power.
“I never saw that huge W before—” said Peter.
“You don't mean Cassiopeia? Her chair isn't there, but over to the north—”
“No, no—there. Rigel, the upper right corner, down to the left, the Dog-star; up to Betelguese, down to the left again to Procyon, and up to the brightest of all—the stranger, not usually there—”
Spenski clutched him. “I was watching the bigger configuration22, and didn't notice. Your stranger is the planet Saturn23 in transit24 between Taurus and Orion. Saturn completes the W, and the W stands for—”
“War, possibly,” said Peter.
“Saturn is so far and moves so slowly,” the little man whispered, “that the W will not be deranged26 for many months.”
The hurry call for Kohlvihr came as expected in Fransic. The first sections of the divisions were entrained the next day—an end to summer road-work.... A day and night of intolerable slowness in a vile27 coach, and on the following noon the troop-train was halted, while a string of Red Cross cars drew up to a siding to give the soldiers the right of way; a momentary28 halt—the line of passing windows filled with cheering, weeping nurses.
Just one reposeful29 face—as both trains halted a second or two. It was the face of one who seemed to understand the whole sorry story, already to be contemplating30 the ruin ahead. Her hands were folded, the eyes intent upon the distance rather than the immediate31 faces of men. Mowbray could not articulate. Above all he wanted to meet her eyes, to put back the light of the present in them, but it was neither sound nor gesture that accomplished32 it; rather the storming intensity33 of anguish34 in his mind. His train jerked, her eyes found him, her arms raised toward him, lips parted. It became the one, above all, of the exquisite35 pictures in his consciousness, and the reality passed so quickly—gone, and no word between them.
Thus her colors came to him again—the mystic trinity of white and gray and black—all he had since known and loved added to the mystery of their first meeting. It was like an awakening36 to the rack of thirst after one has dreamed of a spring of gurgling water—the swift passing of that face of tender beauty and fortitude37, that fair brow, gray eyes and black hair....
Boylan was looking deeply into his face.
“Good God, man, you're a ghost. What is it, Peter?”
“It struck me queer to see a trainload of girls down here in the field,” said Peter quite steadily38.
“Well, if a trainload of strange women can do that to you—here's hoping we never do Paris together.”
Little Spenski opposite had seen the outstretched hands, and Peter saw that he had seen.
点击收听单词发音
1 exteriors | |
n.外面( exterior的名词复数 );外貌;户外景色图 | |
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2 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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3 numbing | |
adj.使麻木的,使失去感觉的v.使麻木,使麻痹( numb的现在分词 ) | |
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4 fabric | |
n.织物,织品,布;构造,结构,组织 | |
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5 scattering | |
n.[物]散射;散乱,分散;在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的;分散在不同范围的;广泛扩散的;(选票)数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式);散布;驱散 | |
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6 ticklish | |
adj.怕痒的;问题棘手的;adv.怕痒地;n.怕痒,小心处理 | |
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7 affiliation | |
n.联系,联合 | |
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8 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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9 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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10 citizenship | |
n.市民权,公民权,国民的义务(身份) | |
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11 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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12 bibulous | |
adj.高度吸收的,酗酒的 | |
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13 hazes | |
n.(烟尘等的)雾霭( haze的名词复数 );迷蒙;迷糊;(尤指热天引起的)薄雾v.(使)笼罩在薄雾中( haze的第三人称单数 );戏弄,欺凌(新生等,有时作为加入美国大学生联谊会的条件) | |
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14 nostalgia | |
n.怀乡病,留恋过去,怀旧 | |
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15 gore | |
n.凝血,血污;v.(动物)用角撞伤,用牙刺破;缝以补裆;顶 | |
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16 groaned | |
v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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17 rumors | |
n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 );[古]名誉;咕哝;[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 );[古]名誉;咕哝;[古]喧嚷 | |
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18 eastward | |
adv.向东;adj.向东的;n.东方,东部 | |
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19 junction | |
n.连接,接合;交叉点,接合处,枢纽站 | |
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20 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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21 declivity | |
n.下坡,倾斜面 | |
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22 configuration | |
n.结构,布局,形态,(计算机)配置 | |
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23 Saturn | |
n.农神,土星 | |
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24 transit | |
n.经过,运输;vt.穿越,旋转;vi.越过 | |
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25 growl | |
v.(狗等)嗥叫,(炮等)轰鸣;n.嗥叫,轰鸣 | |
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26 deranged | |
adj.疯狂的 | |
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27 vile | |
adj.卑鄙的,可耻的,邪恶的;坏透的 | |
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28 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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29 reposeful | |
adj.平稳的,沉着的 | |
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30 contemplating | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
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31 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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32 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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33 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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34 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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35 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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36 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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37 fortitude | |
n.坚忍不拔;刚毅 | |
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38 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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