“How unchristian!” cried Frau Simon.
“What, to give him the coup de grâce?”
“No, but the idea that a blasphemous expression wrung from the soul of a man in the midst of unbearable tortures could imperil his soul. The Christian’s God is not so unjust as that, and assuredly will take every fallen warrior into His grace.”
“Muhammad’s paradise was assured to every Mussulman who had killed a Christian,” replied Bresser. “Believe me, my dear Frau Simon, all those deities who have been represented as leaders of wars, and whose assistance and blessing the priests and commanders promise as the wages of murder, all of them are as deaf to blasphemies as to prayers. Look up there; that star of the first magnitude, with reddish light, it is only seen twinkling or rather shining, for it does not twinkle, over our heads every second year, that is the planet Mars, the star dedicated to the God of War, that god who was so feared and reverenced in old times that he had by far more temples than the Goddess of Love. Of old on the field of Marathon, in the narrow pass of Thermopylae, that star shed a bloody light on the battles of men, and to him rose up the curses of the fallen who accused him of their misfortune, while he indifferent and peaceful, then as now, was circling round the sun. Hostile stars? there are no such things. Man has no enemy except man, but he is savage enough. And no other friend either,” added Bresser after a short pause; “of that you yourself are giving an example, magnanimous lady. You are—”
“O doctor,” interrupted Frau Simon; “look there, that flame on the horizon, it is surely a village in flames—”
I opened my eyes and saw the red glare.
“No,” said Dr. Bresser, “it is the moon rising.”
I tried to get into a more comfortable position, and sat up for a time. I kept constantly preventing myself from closing my eyes, for that state of half-slumber, with the consciousness of not being asleep, in which the most horrible fancy-pictures carried on their wild procession, was far too painful. Better to take part in the conversation of the other two, and tear myself away from my own thoughts. But the gentleman and lady were dumb. They were looking towards the place where now the luminary of night was really rising. And again in spite of me my eyes closed for a space. This time it was sleep. In the one second during which I felt that I was going to sleep, that the world around me was ceasing to exist, I felt such a delight in annihilation that the brother of my benefactor, Death, would have been quite welcome to me.
I do not know how long a space I passed in this negatively happy state of removal from existence, but I was torn out of it suddenly and forcibly. It was no noise, no shock that woke me, but a vapour of intolerably poisoned air.
“What is that?”
The others called out the same question at the same time as I did.
Our wagon turned round a corner, and at the side of the way we found the answer. Brightly lighted by the moon there stood up a white wall, probably of a church. Anyhow, it had served as a cover from gunshot. At its foot, heaped up, lay numerous corpses. It was the smell of putrefaction, which rose up from their dead bodies, that had broken my sleep. As we drove by, a thick crowd of ravens and crows rose screaming from the heap of dead, fluttered for a time, as a black cloud against the clear background of the sky, and then settled down again to their feast.
“Frederick! my Frederick!”
“Calm yourself, Baroness Martha,” said Bresser consolingly. “Your husband could not have been present there.”
The soldier who was driving had pressed his team on in order to get away the quicker from the neighbourhood of the mephitic vapour—the conveyance clattered and jolted as if we were in wild flight. I thought the horses had run away … trembling fear took hold on me. With both hands I clasped Bresser’s arm, but I could not help turning my head back to look there at that wall, and—was it the deceptive light of the moon, or was it the movements hither and thither of the birds as they came back to their booty? I thought that the whole troop of the dead rose up, and that the corpses all stretched their arms towards us, and made ready to pursue us. I would have shrieked, but my throat was closed by fear and would not obey my impulse.
Again the wagon turned round the corner of a street.
“Here we are—this is Horonewos,” I heard the doctor say, and he ordered the driver to stop.
“What are we to do with the lady?” said Frau Simon complainingly. “She will be rather a hindrance than any help.”
I collected myself. “No, no,” I said, “I am better now; I will do all I can to help you.”
We found ourselves in the middle of the village at the gate of a château.
“We will first do here what there is to do,” said the doctor. “The château, which is deserted by its owners, must be filled from cellar to roof with wounded.”
We got out. I could hardly keep on my feet, but stiffened myself with all my force, so as not to give in.
“Forward,” said Frau Simon. “Have we all our luggage? What I am bringing with me will give the people some refreshment.”
“There are restoratives and bandages in my box too,” said I.
“And my handbag contains instruments and medicines,” added Bresser. Then we gave the needful orders to the
