You no longer count (Tu n'es plus rien!) — John Shaqi
You no longer count (Tu n'es plus rien!)Boylesve, René
General
You no longer count (Tu n'es plus rien!)
Boylesve, René
World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
It may well be that similar phenomena occur sometimes without attracting
our attention; yet, on that day, to three persons occupying neighboring
rooms in a hotel, to others also, who had spoken of it at dinner or in
the evening, that sunset appeared utterly unusual, and such as might
justify all gossiping conjectures as to the relations of the earth with
the marvellous changes, stupendous in their nature, which take place in
the vault of heaven. Above the quiet sea the whole horizon was a fiery
furnace, blazing with intense fervency, across which were spread, like
fragments of slashed flesh, long clouds of a livid bluish red. Before
long the intense fire died down, as if all the combustible matter had
been devoured by the fury of the flames. Then the disk of the sun
appeared in outline, like a gigantic blood-blister, like a crystal bowl
so overful that the viscous liquid was escaping by some fissure and
spreading to right and left into a marsh, a lake, an ocean of human
serum, flowing in every direction toward rivers with contracted banks,
which upheaved against it a formidable tide. Suddenly the sinister
blister burst of itself and was absorbed in the mass of burning matter,
or of thick waters, heavy and foul, and became thin streams like those
that trickle from a slaughter-house.
No, truly, it was no vertigo of the imagination, no hallucination of the
vision, no compliant romance; it was a real picture, symbolic of aspect,
preceding, like an inadequate vignette, the flaming pages of the great
book of history that had just been opened.
In Odette's soul it had been like a curtain that falls before a new act;
once the curtain is raised, one's expectation is fixed; no more light
comedy, no more pleasant extravaganzas, no more ballet! The tragedy is
about to begin.
With a bound her fevered memory overleaped several months of war. They
had entered an atmosphere of fire; it was hard, but they endured it.
Alsace: a breath of wild hope, penultimate moment of Old France;
Belgium: enthusiasm first, horror afterward; alliances:
prognostications, so-called assured, as to the "final result"; invasion:
a march to the scaffold in which the condemned cling to a hope of the
improbable; the Marne: the improbable realized, for which no one had
dared to hope; the enemy grappled with and hurled back; the fall of
Antwerp, of which so many folk, who will appear again in the end, insist
that "it has not the least importance."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account