“Hello,” said Peter at last. “What have I been doing?”
“Not anything that you've pulled before. Is this an old habit?”
“What?”
“Passing out unhurt—lying like a log for an hour or two?”
“No, it's a new one. Where are we?”
“Judenbach. It's past supper time—”
“Where is she?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“I was wondering what hit me?”
“Now, you're getting glib6 again,” said Boylan. Peter's reserve had interposed. His absence had something to do with her, but he could not remember. “Where is she?” had got away from him as he crossed the border back into the racking physical domain7. He didn't like that.
“Did I say anything?”
“Nothing that will be used against you,” Boylan observed. “As for what hit you—that's the mystery. Not a scratch in sight.... I was behind. You were standing8 still as a sentry9 after that shrapnel. Presently you bowled over—”
“That shrapnel?”
“Yep—”
There was an instant of silence; the picture returned and wrung10 a groan11 from Peter. All the energy of his life rebelled against the fact. Boylan's hand tightened12 upon him. For the moment Mowbray was in a kind of delirium13.
“The moon had just come up,” he said, “like another sun. The real sun was still in the sky from our hill.”
“I know. I was there. Cut it, Peter.”
“Where is Samarc?”
“In one of the hospital buildings, likely. I meant to find him as soon as I could leave you—”
“I'll go with you.”
Big Belt fumbled14 in his saddled bags for a flask15, brought it in one hand, a cup of water in the other....
They were in the streets, very dark. Once they were caught in a swift current of sheep driven in for the commissary. Judenbach sat on the slope of a hill, a little city, its heart of stone, very ancient, its “hoopskirts,” as Boylan said, made of woven-cane huts. Already the stone buildings of the narrow main street were crowded with wounded. The correspondents were not permitted far either way from headquarters. Finally it was necessary to get Dabnitz of the staff to conduct them.... It had all been a jumble16 of ambulances at nightfall from the field, the lieutenant17 said. Russian soldiers were not ticketed. Many faces on the cots were bandaged beyond recognition. The three gave up at midnight, Peter gaining strength rather than losing it in the later hours. Orders were that the streets be emptied of all but sentries18.
“No, nothing like that—” said Boylan, as Mowbray sank to the floor by his blanket roll. “You haven't had supper—”
“Don't, Boylan.... I say, what do they do with the dead?”
Rain was pattering down; the smell of drugs reached them.
“It does make a difference when you know one of them—doesn't it?.... God, man, we're cluttered19 with wounded. The dead are at peace—”
“I wonder what stars he's watching to-night?”
“Come, come. Peter—”
“I know.... I know, Boylan. Only it shows me something. He was a great workman. There are things in the world that can't be done because he's gone. There are others like him. He had a girl. He had a friend. He had us—”
“And to-morrow they're at it again,” said Peter.
“It won't look the same in the morning—”
Peter did not answer.
“Anyway, you didn't bring on the war, Peter—”
“It makes a man cold with that kind of cold a supper-fire don't help.”
“Peter, you've got me stopped with your moods—like a woman. Women were always too profound for Mr. B. B. Boylan—”
“Sorry. You've been a prince. I'll do better now. I'll get out of it. Little shock—that's all. I think it wasn't so much physical. Something changed all around. I've been taking things as I found them so long. That helps to bring on a war—”
Boylan glanced at him narrowly.
Peter laughed. “I'm all right. Head's working.”
Big Belt sighed. “I loved that little guy, too. God, I'd run east to Asia and keep on running rather than meet his girl.”
Peter drank hot soup and slept. Next morning it was like a hard problem that one has slept upon and awakened21 with the process and answer straight-going. They had not searched ten minutes (calling “Samarc” softly among the cots where the faces were bandaged) before a hand came up to them. It was Peter who took it; and as their hands met, the whole fabric22 of the man on the cot broke into trembling. They understood. Samarc had been lying there rigid23 with his tragedy. Peter's touch had been enough to break the dam of his misery24.
“I have ceased to kill,” he said.
The head was twice as big with bandages; yet under that effigy25, so terrible was the intensity26 of the moment, Peter became conscious of ruin there, also of a sudden icy cold in the morning air. Samarc's powerful hand still clutched his. The voice that had emerged from under the cloths was still in his ears. It had seemed to come as water from a pipe—loosely, the faucet27 gone. The hand was unhurt.
“...He came in the night. I did not speak—but my heart was fighting against the guns. He was moving here and there. He turned to me, as if I had suddenly cried out, 'What shall I do?'...'You can cease to kill,' he said.”
Boylan was watching Peter. His face turned gray.
They received the intelligence of the words, as they came, although at another time the mouthing would have been inarticulate as wind in one of Judenbach's archaic28 street-lamps.
“I'll stay with him, Boylan,” said Peter, choosing the hardest thing, but Big Belt would not leave, though the Russian columns were moving in the street—off to renew the battle among the hills. The two sat by until Samarc slept.
They were in the street again, moving close to the walls, for the cavalry29 was crowding the narrow highway. They crossed finally to a stone-paved area at the side of Judenbach's main building. Their feet were upon the stone flags of this court, when Dabnitz suddenly hurried forward, with a gesture for them to stand back.
“Just a moment, my friends,” he said. “A little formality, but very necessary—”
Peter lifted his eyes, perceived three men standing bare-headed against the wall of head-quarters, twenty paces away. One of them exclaimed, his voice calm but penetrating30:
“We are not spies. We do not care to turn our backs. We are not afraid to die, for we have made our lives count—”
It was the voice of a public speaker; the voice of a man making good many words.... Dabnitz stepped between Boylan and Mowbray, stretching out his arms before them. It was all in an instant. They saw Dabnitz's apologetic smile—and a Russian platoon at their right, rifles raised—then the ragged31 volley.
Each of the three fell differently.
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收听单词发音
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1
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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3
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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4
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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5
lamed
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| 希伯莱语第十二个字母 | |
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glib
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| adj.圆滑的，油嘴滑舌的 | |
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7
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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8
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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9
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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10
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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11
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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12
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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13
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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14
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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15
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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16
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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17
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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18
sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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19
cluttered
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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20
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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21
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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22
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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24
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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25
effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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26
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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27
faucet
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| n.水龙头 | |
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28
archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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29
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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30
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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31
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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