How they had arrived it would have puzzled him to tell. He had vague
memories of sunsets and dawns; of times when sleep had drugged him; of
unrefreshed awakenings.
They had reached Brest-Litovsk, the city fatal to the Russians, which
the Czar had always superstitiously avoided. Like Cracow, it was
deserted. Unlike Cracow, it was a pile of ruins. Seven times in seven
years it had been bombarded and captured. Beneath an iron sky, it
listened for the tramp of the latest conqueror.
Hindwood drew forth his map. It was over a hundred versts to Kovel; he
doubted whether his gasolene would take him. There was nowhere where he
could replenish his supply. Before him lay a No Man's Land from which
everything had perished--behind a silence from which everything had
escaped. To continue his pursuit was folly. There was no promise of
success to allure him; of Varensky and Santa he had lost all trace.
He glanced at his drowsing companion; he had pledged his word to her.
Reluctantly he climbed into his seat and started forward.
The suicidal stupidity of war--that was the thought that absorbed him.
Every sight that his eyes encountered emphasized its madness. Yet beyond
the horizon, where distance seemed to terminate, men were killing one
another. He understood at last Varensky's passion to die. When all else
had failed, to offer one's body was the only protest.
The landscape was growing featureless. Rivers had overflowed. The labor
of centuries was sinking beneath morass. Villages and post-houses had
been destroyed; woods torn by shell-fire. Stationed along the route,
like buoys guarding a channel, black and white verst-poles gleamed
monotonously. On either side stretched a never-ending graveyard, marked
by rough crosses or inverted rifles. Down this pitiless straight road
had marched the seven invasions--Russian, German, Polish, Bolshevist,
each with a dream of glory in its eyes. With the victory lost and the
dream forgotten, they moldered companionably.
It was half-way to Kovel that he first noticed what was happening;
behind scrub and fallen trees it had probably been happening for some
time. It was a gray wolf, grown bold, which first drew his attention.
Like a dog, seeking its master, it came trotting down the road. After
that they came in packs--not only wolves, but every other kind of
untamed animal. It was as though they were fleeing before a drive--the
tremendous drive of a famished nation. In their dread they seemed to
have postponed their right to prey. Hunter and quarry journeyed side by
side, their enmities in abeyance in their common terror of the enmity
which stalked behind.
Hindwood had grown used to the spectacle, when suddenly he was startled
by another sight--a child. A child so matted and neglected, that he
scarcely recognized him as human. His feet were swathed in balls
of rags. He limped painfully, walking among the animals and staring
straight before him. At shortening intervals others followed, till at
last they came in crowds.
Beyond Kovel, where commences the crumbling trench-system in which the
vanished Russo-German armies remained locked for so many years, he came
across his first trace of Varensky--an abandoned car with a broken axle.
Varensky must be on foot, not far ahead. He had passed another mile when
his own car halted; the gasolene had given out. With the ceasing of the
engine he caught another sound--the popping of rifle-fire. It dawned on
him that the trenches of the dead battlefield were again inhabited. He
had been driving straight into the heart of the fighting.
The firing was drawing nearer. The Monarchists were falling back. A
bullet whizzed over his head and pinged into a mass of rusted wire.
All that followed happened in a flash. He had seized Anna and rushed
with her to cover. From where he watched, he could see soldiers
retreating, and the tops of steel helmets bobbing above the trenches. Of
the advancing host he could see nothing.
Suddenly from behind a mound, a man with a peaked head sprang up. He
was dressed as a civilian. He commenced to run up the road towards
the enemy, waving something white. Immediately, from another place of
hiding, a woman leapt up and followed. It was as though on the instant
truce had been declared; a tranquillity of amazement settled down.
As he reached what appeared to be No Man's Land, he drew himself erect,
with expanded chest, and commenced to sweep his arms in the gestures
of oratory. It was dumb show; it was impossible to hear what was being
said. While he was speaking, the woman caught up with him and flung
herself upon him, making a shield of her body.
Curiosity satisfied, both sides fired. The man and woman crumpled.
Fighting recommenced.