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"I'll see what I can find," Big Belt remarked. "You're right to go back, Peter. As for me, I can stand it better outdoors." Crossing the street, it seemed to Peter that he had been in Judenbach certain ages, a reckonable space of eternity despite the lowering sun which calmly informed him that at this time yesterday the Austrians had found the range of Samarc's battery with a shrapnel or two.
You'll come a long way before you arrive at the personal familiarity of the subject earned by this same little fat boy.... Turn it again, Peter." Samarc rushed past, speaking excitedly in French, and in the shadows behind they saw the eyes of Spenski, sympathetic and wistful. "What did he say, Peter?" Boylan asked quickly. "Samarc's French is like my Russian."
The day had risen and Samarc awakened, when a strange orderly entered the ward, and came leisurely to the cot where Peter sat: "What have you here?" "A shrapnel wound in the face." The orderly looked under the cot for the uniform, as if to determine Samarc's place and rank. "Where's the blouse?" he asked. "It was covered with blood," said Peter. "They took it away." "What branch of the service?"
It was like that morning in her room, the tall flowers between. He did not hear what she was saying. The room was dim. Samarc's face was turned from them. One man in a near cot flung his arms about his head wearily, but his eyes were toward the wall.... He caught her in his arms and loved the beauty of earth in her face. "...Peter, we must forget ourselves!" "I can't forget you.
Many things had come to him. He wished as never before for a free cable.... Boylan came in at dark and drew him away from Samarc's cot. "I'll be back to-night," Peter promised. "...There's been no break in the check to-day," Big Belt reported. "Kohlvihr's division, and the immediate forces surrounding, are part of the great right wing, and this right is holding up the whole Russian command.
I tell you I am proud." "Of what, Peter?" "That I had sense enough to go a second time to the Square at Warsaw." "I'm glad, too.... If we were only in the winter stillness " They were silent. Samarc's hand came up to Peter, and drew him close. It was clear that he could not bear the woman to hear his struggle for speech. "Tell her about Spenski," came to Peter's ears in the lipless mouthing.
Now Peter saw none but Spenski, until Samarc reached him, lifted, called. Peter saw the body raised from the ground to Samarc's arms saw the little man's body open upon his friend like a melon that has rotted underneath. All went black for Peter. The slope rose up and took him.
...The officers would know if it were the same old crew, because they knew Samarc's work. This was the substance of the answer. "But why go?" ...They would take off the bandages to be sure that he required further hospital care. He could not endure that. The bandages must never come off.... He would rather be afield. Peter saw the grim finality of it. Samarc wasn't changed. He meant to end it.
It is the long night, but it is a great honor for us to be here and at work." "Where are your companions?" The Russian smiled. "They are all about through the dark of the long night. We may only signal in passing. In fact, I must go now " The surgeon in charge had entered. Peter went to Samarc's cot, steeling himself. "Samarc," he whispered, without bending, "Samarc " His sleeves were rolled.
It was the beauty above and ghastly waste of the infantry that brought back to his brain the reason and decency of the ants in the burning log their order in contrast to this chaos.... The Austrians were workmen. Their searching shrapnel had been quite enough. Samarc's battery had begun to move, when they landed in the heart of it. All was changed about, and new.
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