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Updated: May 24, 2025
He, Samarc, would continue the search for his battery. As a rule Mowbray was the last to continue in the presence of a man who wanted him to go; and yet, he knew that Samarc hated the field pieces as much as he, and that he did not mean to live through the day. He hesitated. The final urging was pitiful a sort of tumult from under the cloths. "Nothing doing, Samarc," he said suddenly.
The folk songs were singing in his soul, and the lines of Abel's We Are Free, the friendships of Spenski and Samarc, of these in the room, and the love of Berthe Wyndham. All had prevailed. The culmination was now. He thought of the actuality of to-morrow, but without terror, or blankness.
Samarc left his seat in the dark corner and walked evenly toward the center where Kohlvihr stood, his aides about him poor old Doltmir standing apart and distressed. The moment had come for the order to be given. Kohlvihr turned to a dispatch rider at the door a door made of cedar trunks. For the moment Peter was blocked between two desires, or paralyzed.
Peter's ward was low- lit and still. ...The wounded man's hands waved before his bandage, as if to detract attention from the windy blur of his utterance. Samarc wanted to die. "You know it was because of me that he came " he repeated. "But you mustn't suffer for that. Really, Samarc, a man couldn't have been a better friend than you. Spenski would tell you so if he could.
The four were much together for a few days after that, Samarc and Spenski not yet assigned to their battery. They learned each other in those few days as men often fail to learn the hearts of their immediate associates during years. There was fighting scattered, open, surprising often to one out of touch with the points and the scouting.
The silence was like a deep excavation, and the smell of fresh ground was in the air. Peter did not see Boylan. He arose, half crawled up the torn ground to the place where Spenski and Samarc had stood. They were some distance a saving distance for Mowbray when he saw Samarc arise, his face sheeted in red. Samarc was staring about for Spenski.
Strength came from the joy he was giving Samarc.... It seemed that they were quite alone. He told of the night of stars, of the little man's superb sensitiveness.... She bent to Samarc at last. "You wanted him to tell me?" He nodded. There was something intensely pathetic in it all. Her eyes were full of light. "The story thrills me," she whispered. "Oh, this is very far from a hopeless world.
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."
There was an instant of silence; the picture returned and wrung a groan from Peter. All the energy of his life rebelled against the fact. Boylan's hand tightened upon him. For the moment Mowbray was in a kind of delirium. "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?"
Samarc's hand came up to him, and the pull that meant he wanted to speak. Peter invariably paled before this ordeal. Not through words but sounds were the meanings tortured out.... Samarc meant to take the field. In the usual course there would be no coming back for him at nightfall, because he had "ceased to kill " "But must your officers know?" Peter whispered.
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