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eminine tunic so like his Oriental garments in Berlin。 Blumhardt did not betray the slightest astonishment at the aspect of his general。 In the customary attitude of military erectness； he spoke in his own language while the Count listened with a bored air； meanwhile passing his fingers idly over the keys。
A shaft of sunlight from a nearby window was enveloping the piano and musician in a halo of gold。 Through the window； too； was wafting the poetry of the sunsetthe rustling of the leaves； the hushed song of the birds and the hum of the insects whose transparent wings were glowing like sparks in the last rays of the sun。 The General； annoyed that his dreaming melancholy should be interrupted by this inopportune visit； cut short the Commandant's story with a gesture of command and a word 。 。 。 one word only。 He said no more。 He took two puffs from a Turkish cigarette that was slowly scorching the wood of the piano； and again ran his hands over the ivory keys； catching up the broken threads of the vague and tender improvisation inspired by the gloaming。
〃Thanks； Your Excellency；〃 said the gratified Desnoyers； surmising his magnanimous response。
The Commandant had disappeared； nor could the Frenchman find him outside the castle。 A soldier was pacing up and down near the iron gates in order to transmit commands； and the guards were pushing back with blows from their guns； a screaming group of women and tiny children。 The entrance was entirely cleared！ undoubtedly the crowds were returning to the village after the General's pardon。 。 。 。 Desnoyers was half way down the avenue when he heard a howling sound composed of many voices； a hair…raising shriek such as only womanly desperation can send forth。 At the same time； the air was vibrating with snaps； the loud cracking sound that he knew from the day before。 Shots！ 。 。 。 He imagined that on the other side of the iron railing there were some writhing bodies struggling to escape from powerful arms； and others fleeing with bounds of fear。 He saw running toward him a horror…stricken； sobbing woman with her hands to her head。 It was the wife of the Keeper who a little while before had joined the desperate group of women。
〃Oh； don't go on； Master；〃 she called stopping his hurried step。 〃They have killed him。 。 。 。 They have just shot him。〃
Don Marcelo stood rooted to the ground。 Shot！ 。 。 。 and after the General's pardon！ 。 。 。 Suddenly he ran back to the castle； hardly knowing what he was doing； and soon reached the salon。 His Excellency was still at the piano。 humming in low tones； his eyes moistened by the poesy of his dreams。 But the breathless old gentleman did not stop to listen。
〃They have shot him； Your Excellency。 。 。 。 They have just killed him in spite of your order。〃
The smile which crossed the Count's face immediately informed him of his mistake。
〃That is war； my dear sir；〃 said the player； pausing for a moment。 〃War with its cruel necessities。 。 。 。 It is always expedient to destroy the enemy of to…morrow。〃
And with a pedantic air as though he were giving a lesson； he discoursed about the Orientals； great masters of the art of living。 One of the personages most admired by him was a certain Sultan of the Turkish conquest who； with his own hands； had strangled the sons of the adversary。 〃Our foes do not come into the world on horseback and brandishing the lance；〃 said that hero。 〃All are born as children； and it is advisable to wipe them from the face of the earth before they grow up。〃
Desnoyers listened without taking it in。 One thought only was occupying his mind。 。 。 。 That man that he had supposed just； that sentimentalist so affected by his own singing； had； between two arpeggios； coldly given the order for death！ 。 。 。
The Count made a gesture of impatience。 He might retire now； and he counselled him to be more discreet in the future； avoiding mixing himself up in the affairs of the service。 Then he turned his back； running his hands over the piano； and giving himself up to harmonious melancholy。
For Don Marcelo there now began an absurd life of the most extraordinary events； an experience which was going to last four days。 In his life history； this period represented a long parenthesis of stupefaction； slashed by the most horrible visions。
Not wishing to meet these men again； he abandoned his own bedroom； taking refuge on the top floor in the servants' quarters； near the room selected by the Warden and his family。 In vain the good woman kept offering him things to eat as the night came onhe had no appetite。 He lay stretched out on the bed； preferring to be alone with his thoughts in the dark。 When would this martyrdom ever come to an end？ 。 。 。
There came into his mind the recollection of a trip which he had made to London some years ago。 In his imagination he again saw the British Museum and certain Assyrian bas…reliefsrelics of bestial humanity； which had filled him with terror。 The warriors were represented as burning the towns； the prisoners were beheaded in heaps； the pacific countrymen were marching in lines with chains on their necks； forming strings of slaves。 Until that moment he had never realized the advance which civilization had made through the centuries。 Wars were still breaking out now and then； but they had been regulated by the march of progress。 The life of the prisoner was now held sacred； the captured towns must be respected； there existed a complete code of international law to regulate how men should be killed and nations should combat； causing the least possible harm。 。 。 。 But now he had just seen the primitive realities of war。 The same as that of thousands of years ago！ The men with the helmets were proceeding in exactly the same way as those ferocious and perfumed satraps with blue mitre and curled beard。 The adversary was shot although not carrying arms； the prisoner died of shot or blow from the gun； the civilian captives were sent in crowds to Germany like those of other centuries。 Of what avail was all our so…called Progress？ Where was our boasted civilization？ 。 。 。
He was awakened by the light of a candle in his eyes。 The Warden's wife had come up again to see if he needed anything。
〃Oh； what a night； Master！ Just hear them yelling and singing！ The bottles that they have emptied！ 。 。 。 They are in the dining room。 You better not see them。 Now they are amusing themselves by breaking the furniture。 Even the Count is drunk； drunk； too； is that Commandant that you were talking with； and all the rest。 。 。 。 Some of them are dancing half…naked。〃
She evidently wished to keep quiet about certain details； but her love of talking got the better of her discretion。 Some of the officers had dressed themselves up in the hats and gowns of her mistress and were dancing and shouting； imitating feminine seductiveness and affectations。 。 。 。 One of them had been greeted with roars of enthusiasm upon presenting himself with no other clothing than a 〃combination〃 of Mademoiselle Chichi's。 Many were taking obscene delight in soiling the rugs and filling the sideboard drawers with indescribable filth； using the finest linens that they could lay their hands on。