all roads lead to calvary-第27部分

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ts　wild　sad　notes　of　wailing；　and　slowly　the　mist　cleared　from　her　eyes；　and　the　stage　was　empty。　　A　strange　hush　had　fallen　on　the　house。

She　was　not　aware　that　her　hostess　had　been　watching　her。　　She　was　a　sweet…faced；　white…haired　lady。　　She　touched　Joan　lightly　on　the　hand。　　〃That's　the　trouble；〃　she　whispered。　　〃It's　in　our　blood。〃

Could　we　ever　hope　to　eradicate　it？　　Was　not　the　survival　of　this　fighting　instinct　proof　that　war　was　still　needful　to　us？　　In　the　sculpture…room　of　an　exhibition　she　came　upon　a　painted　statue　of　Bellona。　　Its　grotesqueness　shocked　her　at　first　sight；　the　red　streaming　hair；　the　wild　eyes　filled　with　fury；　the　wide　open　mouthone　could　almost　hear　it　screamingthe　white　uplifted　arms　with　outstretched　hands！　　Appalling！　　Terrible！　　And　yet；　as　she　gazed　at　it；　gradually　the　thing　grew　curiously　real　to　her。　　She　seemed　to　hear　the　gathering　of　the　chariots；　the　neighing　of　the　horses；　the　hurrying　of　many　feet；　the　sound　of　an　armouring　multitude；　the　shouting；　and　the　braying　of　the　trumpets。

These　cold；　thin…lipped　calculators；　arguing　that　〃War　doesn't　pay〃；　those　lank…haired　cosmopolitans；　preaching　their　〃International；〃　as　if　the　only　business　of　mankind　were　wages！　War　still　was　the　stern　school　where　men　learnt　virtue；　duty；　forgetfulness　of　self；　faithfulness　unto　death。

This　particular　war；　of　course；　must　be　stopped：　　if　it　were　not　already　too　late。　　It　would　be　a　war　for　markets；　for　spheres　of　commercial　influence；　a　sordid　war　that　would　degrade　the　people。　War；　the　supreme　test　of　a　nation's　worth；　must　be　reserved　for　great　ideals。　　Besides；　she　wanted　to　down　Carleton。

One　of　the　women　on　her　list；　and　the　one　to　whom　Mrs。　Denton　appeared　to　attach　chief　importance；　a　Madame　de　Barante；　disappointed　Joan。　　She　seemed　to　have　so　few　opinions　of　her　own。　She　had　buried　her　young　husband　during　the　Franco…Prussian　war。　He　had　been　a　soldier。　　And　she　had　remained　unmarried。　　She　was　still　beautiful。

〃I　do　not　think　we　women　have　the　right　to　discuss　war；〃　she　confided　to　Joan　in　her　gentle；　high…bred　voice。　　〃I　suppose　you　think　that　out　of　date。　　I　should　have　thought　so　myself　forty　years　ago。　　We　talk　of　'giving'　our　sons　and　lovers；　as　if　they　were　ours　to　give。　　It　makes　me　a　little　angry　when　I　hear　pampered　women　speak　like　that。　　It　is　the　men　who　have　to　suffer　and　die。　It　is　for　them　to　decide。〃

〃But　perhaps　I　can　arrange　a　meeting　for　you　with　a　friend；〃　she　added；　〃who　will　be　better　able　to　help　you；　if　he　is　in　Paris。　　I　will　let　you　know。〃

She　told　Joan　what　she　remembered　herself　of　1870。　　She　had　turned　her　country　house　into　a　hospital　and　had　seen　a　good　deal　of　the　fighting。

〃It　would　not　do　to　tell　the　truth；　or　we　should　have　our　children　growing　up　to　hate　war；〃　she　concluded。

She　was　as　good　as　her　word；　and　sent　Joan　round　a　message　the　next　morning　to　come　and　see　her　in　the　afternoon。　　Joan　was　introduced　to　a　Monsieur　de　Chaumont。　　He　was　a　soldierly…looking　gentleman；　with　a　grey　moustache；　and　a　deep　scar　across　his　face。

〃Hanged　if　I　can　see　how　we　are　going　to　get　out　of　it；〃　he　answered　Joan　cheerfully。　　〃The　moment　there　is　any　threat　of　war；　it　becomes　a　point　of　honour　with　every　nation　to　do　nothing　to　avoid　it。　　I　remember　my　old　duelling　days。　　The　quarrel　may　have　been　about　the　silliest　trifle　imaginable。　　A　single　word　would　have　explained　the　whole　thing　away。　　But　to　utter　it　would　have　stamped　one　as　a　coward。　　This　Egyptian　Tra…la…la！　　It　isn't　worth　the　bones　of　a　single　grenadier；　as　our　friends　across　the　Rhine　would　say。　　But　I　expect；　before　it's　settled；　there　will　be　men's　bones　sufficient；　bleaching　on　the　desert；　to　build　another　Pyramid。　　It's　so　easily　started：　　that's　the　devil　of　it。　　A　mischievous　boy　can　throw　a　lighted　match　into　a　powder　magazine；　and　then　it　becomes　every　patriot's　business　to　see　that　it　isn't　put　out。　　I　hate　war。　　It　accomplishes　nothing；　and　leaves　everything　in　a　greater　muddle　than　it　was　before。　　But　if　the　idea　ever　catches　fire；　I　shall　have　to　do　all　I　can　to　fan　the　conflagration。　　Unless　I　am　prepared　to　be　branded　as　a　poltroon。　Every　professional　soldier　is　supposed　to　welcome　war。　　Most　of　us　do：　　it's　our　opportunity。　　There's　some　excuse　for　us。　　But　these　menCarleton　and　their　lot：　　I　regard　them　as　nothing　better　than　the　Menades　of　the　Commune。　　They　care　nothing　if　the　whole　of　Europe　blazes。　　They　cannot　personally　get　harmed　whatever　happens。　It's　fun　to　them。〃

〃But　the　people　who　can　get　harmed；〃　argued　Joan。　　〃The　men　who　will　be　dragged　away　from　their　work；　from　their　business；　used　as　'cannon　fodder。'〃

He　shrugged　his　shoulders。　　〃Oh；　they　are　always　eager　enough　for　it；　at　first；〃　he　answered。　　〃There　is　the　excitement。　　The　curiosity。　　You　must　remember　that　life　is　a　monotonous　affair　to　the　great　mass　of　the　people。　　There's　the　natural　craving　to　escape　from　it；　to　court　adventure。　　They　are　not　so　enthusiastic　about　it　after　they　have　tasted　it。　　Modern　warfare；　they　soon　find；　is　about　as　dull　a　business　as　science　ever　invented。〃

There　was　only　one　hope　that　he　could　see：　　and　that　was　to　switch　the　people's　mind　on　to　some　other　excitement。　　His　advices　from　London　told　him　that　a　parliamentary　crisis　was　pending。　　Could　not　Mrs。　Denton　and　her　party　do　something　to　hasten　it？　　He；　on　his　side；　would　consult　with　the　Socialist　leaders；　who　might　have　something　to　suggest。

He　met　Joan；　radiant；　a　morning　or　two　later。　　The　English　Government　had　resigned　and　preparations　for　a　general　election　were　already　on　foot。

〃And　God　has　been　good　to　us；　also；〃　he　explained。

A　well…known　artist　had　been　found　murdered　in　his　bed　and　grave　suspicion　attached　to　his　beautiful　young　wife。

〃She　deserves　the　Croix　de　Guerre；　if　it　is　proved　that　she　did　it；〃　he　thought。　　〃She　will　have　saved　many　thousands　of　livesfor　the　present。〃

Folk　had　fixed　up　a　party　at　his　studio　to　meet　her。　　She　had　been　there　once　or　twice；　but　this　was　a　final　affair。　　She　had　finished　her　business　in　Paris　and　would　be　leaving　the　next　morning。　　To　her　surprise；　she　found　Phillips　there。　　He　had　come　over　hurriedly　to　attend　a　Socialist　conference；　and　Leblanc；　the　editor　of　Le　Nouveau　Monde；　had　brought　him　along。

〃I　took　Smedley's　place　at　the　last　moment；〃　he　whispered　to　her。　〃I've　never　been　abroad　before。　　You　don't　mind；　do　you？〃

It　didn't　strike　her　as　at　all　odd　that　a　leader　of　a　political　party　should　ask　her　〃if　she　minded〃　his　being　in　Paris　to　attend　a　political　conference。　　He　was　wearing　a　light　grey　suit　and　a　blue　tie。　　There　was　nothing　about　him；　at　that　moment；　suggesting　that　he　was　a　leader　of　any　sort。　　He　might　have　been　just　any　man；　but　for　his　eyes。

〃No；〃　she　whispered。　　〃Of　course　not。　　I　don't　like　your　tie。〃　　It　seemed　to　depress　him；　that。

She　felt　elated　at　the　thought　that　he　would　see　her　for　the　first　time　amid　surroundings　where　she　would　shine。　　Folk　came　forward　to　meet　her　with　that　charming　air　of　protective　deference　that　he　had　adopted　towards　her。　　He　might　have　been　some　favoured　minister　of　state　kissing　the　hand　of　a　youthful　Queen。　　She　glanced　down　the　long　studio；　ending　in　its　fine　window　overlooking　the　park。　　Some　of　the　most　distinguished　men　in　Paris　were　there；　and　the　immediate　stir　of　admiration　that　her　entrance　had　created　was　unmistakable。　　Even　the　women　turned　pleased　glances　at　her；　as　if　willing　to　recognize　in　her　their　representative。　　A　sense　of　power　came　to　her　that　made　her　feel　kind　to　all　the　world。　　There　was　no　need　for　her　to　be　clever：　　to　make　any　effort　to　attract。　　Her　presence；　her　sympathy；　her　approval　seemed　to　be　all　that　was　needed　of　her。　　She　had　the　consciousness　that　by　the　mere　exercise　of　her　will　she　could　sway　the　thoughts　and　actions　of　these　men：　that　sovereignty　had　been　given　to　her。　　It　reflected　itself　in　her　slightly　heightened　colour；　in　the　increased　brilliance　of　her　eyes；　in　the　confident　case　of　all　her　movements。　　It　added　a　compelling　softness　to　her　voice。

She　never　quite　remembered　what　the　talk　was　about。　　Men　were　brought　up　and　presented　to　her；　and　hung　about　her　words；　and　sought　to　please　her。　　She　had　spoken　her　own　thoughts；　indifferent　whether　they　expressed　agreement　or　not；　and　the　argument　had　invariably　taken　another　plane。　　It　seemed　so　important　that　she　should　be　convinced。　　Some　had　succeeded；　and　had　been　strengthened。　　Others　had　failed；　and　had　departed　sorrowful；　conscious　of　the　necessity　of　〃thinking　it　out　again。〃

Guests　with　other　engagements　were　taking　their　leave。　　A　piquante　little　woman；　outrageously　but　effectively　dressedshe　looked　like　a　drawing　by　Beardsleydrew　her　aside。　　〃I've　always　wished　I　were　a　man；〃　she　said。　　〃It　seemed　to　me　that　they　had　all　the　power。　From　this　afternoon；　I　shall　be　proud　of　belonging　to　the　governing　sex。〃

She　laughed　and　slipped　away。

Phillips　was　waiting　for　her　in　the　vestibule。　　She　had　forgotten　him；　but　now　she　felt　glad　of　his　humble　request　to　be　allowed　to　see　her　home。　　It　would　have　been　such　a　big　drop　from　her　crowded　hour　of　triumph　to　the　long　lonely　cab　ride　and　the　solitude　of　the　hotel。　　She　resolved　to　be　gracious；　feeling　a　little　sorry　for　her　neglect　of　himbut　reflecting　with　satisfaction　that　he　had　probably　been　watching　her　the　whole　time。

〃What's　the　matter　with　my　tie？〃　he　asked。　　〃Wrong　colour？〃

She　laughed。　　〃Yes；〃　she　answered。　　〃It　ought　to　be　grey　to　match　your　suit。　　And　so　ought　your　socks。〃

〃I　didn't　know　it　was　going　to　be　such　a　swell　affair；　or　I　shouldn't　have　come；〃　he　said。

She　touched　his　hand　lightly。

〃I　want　you　to　get　used　to　it；〃　she　said。　　〃It's　part　of　your　work。　Put　your　brain　into　it；　and　don't　be　afraid。〃

〃I'll　try；〃　he　said。

He　was　sitting　on　the　front　seat；　facing　her。　　〃I'm　glad　I　went；〃　he　said　with　sudden　vehemence。　　〃I　loved　watching　you；　moving　about　among　all　those　people。　　I　never　knew　before　how　beautiful　you　are。〃

Something　in　his　eyes　sent　a　slight　thrill　of　fear　through　her。　　It　was　not　an　unpleasant　sensationrather　exhilarating。　　She　watched　the　passing　street　till　she　felt　that　his　eyes　were　no　longer　devouring　her。

〃You're　not　offended？〃　he　asked。　　〃At　my　thinking　you　beaut