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en drowsiness。 Others were howling and dragging themselves forward in a sitting position。
The old man felt an extreme sensation of heat。 The pungent perfume of explosive drugs brought the tears to his eyes and clawed at his throat。 At the same time he was chilly and felt his forehead freezing in a glacial sweat。
He had to leave the bridge。 Several soldiers were passing bearing the wounded to the edifice in spite of the fact that it was falling in ruins。 Suddenly he was sprinkled from head to foot； as if the earth had opened to make way for a waterspout。 A shell had fallen into the moat； throwing up an enormous column of water； making the carp sleeping in the mud fly into fragments； breaking a part of the edges and grinding to powder the white balustrades with their great urns of flowers。
He started to run on with the blindness of terror； when he suddenly saw before him the same little round crystal； examining him coolly。 It was the Junker； the officer of the monocle。 。 。 。 With the end of his revolver； the German pointed to two pails a short distance away； ordering Desnoyers to fill them from the lagoon and give the water to the men overcome by the sun。 Although the imperious tone admitted of no reply； Don Marcelo tried； nevertheless； to resist。 He received a blow from the revolver on his chest at the same time that the lieutenant slapped him in the face。 The old man doubled over； longing to weep； longing to perish； but no tears came； nor did life escape from his body under this affront； as he wished。 。 。 。 With the two buckets in his hands； he found himself dipping up water from the canal； carrying it the length of the file； giving it to men who； each in his turn； dropped his gun to gulp the liquid with the avidity of panting beasts。
He was no longer afraid of the shrill shrieks of invisible bodies。 His one great longing was to die。 He was strongly convinced that he was going to die； his sufferings were too great； there was no longer any place in the world for him。
He had to pass by breaches opened in the wall by the bursting shells。 There was no natural object to arrest the eye looking through these gaps。 Hedges and groves had been swept away or blotted out by the fire of the artillery。 He descried at the foot of the highway near his castle； several of the attacking columns which had crossed the Marne。 The advancing forces were coming doggedly on； apparently unmoved by the steady； deadly fire of the Germans。 Soon they were rushing forward with leaps and bounds； by companies； shielding themselves behind bits of upland in bends of the road； in order to send forth their blasts of death。
The old man was now fired with a desperate resolution；since he had to die； let a French ball kill him！ And he advanced very erect with his two pails among those men shooting； lying down。 Then； with a sudden fear； he stood still hanging his head； a second thought had told him that the bullet which he might receive would be one danger less for the enemy。 It would be better for them to kill the Germans 。 。 。 and he began to cherish the hope that he might get possession of some weapon from those dying around him； and fall upon that Junker who had struck him。
He was filling his pails for the third time； and murderously contemplating the lieutenant's back when something occurred so absurd and unnatural that it reminded him of the fantastic flash of the cinematograph；the officer's head suddenly disappeared； two jets of blood spurted from his severed neck and his body collapsed like an empty sack。
At the same time； a cyclone was sweeping the length of the wall； tearing up groves； overturning cannon and carrying away people in a whirlwind as though they were dry leaves。 He inferred that Death was now blowing from another direction。 Until then； it had come from the front on the river side； battling with the enemy's line ensconced behind the walls。 Now； with the swiftness of an atmospheric change； it was blustering from the depths of the park。 A skillful manoeuver of the aggressors； the use of a distant road； a chance bend in the German line had enabled the French to collect their cannon in a new position； attacking the occupants of the castle with a flank movement。
It was a lucky thing for Don Marcelo that he had lingered a few moments on the bank of the fosse； sheltered by the bulk of the edifice。 The fire of the hidden battery passed the length of the avenue； carrying off the living； destroying for a second time the dead； killing horses； breaking the wheels of vehicles and making the gun carriages fly through the air with the flames of a volcano in whose red and bluish depths black bodies were leaping。 He saw hundreds of fallen men； he saw disembowelled horses trampling on their entrails。 The death harvest was not being reaped in sheaves； the entire field was being mowed down with a single flash of the sickle。 And as though the batteries opposite divined the catastrophe； they redoubled their fire； sending down a torrent of shells。 They fell on all sides。 Beyond the castle； at the end of the park； craters were opening in the woods； vomiting forth the entire trunks of trees。 The projectiles were hurling from their pits the bodies interred the night before。
Those still alive were firing through the gaps in the walls。 Then they sprang up with the greatest haste。 Some grasped their bayonets； pale； with clamped lips and a mad glare in their eyes； others turned their backs； running toward the exit from the park； regardless of the shouts of their officers and the revolver shots sent after the fugitives。
All this occurred with dizzying rapidity； like a nightmare。 On the other side of the wall came a murmur； swelling in volume； like that of the sea。 Desnoyers heard shouts； and it seemed to him that some hoarse； discordant voices were singing the Marseillaise。 The machine…guns were working with the swift steadiness of sewing machines。 The attack was going to be opposed with furious resistance。 The Germans； crazed with fury； shot and shot。 In one of the breaches appeared a red kepis followed by legs of the same color trying to clamber over the ruins。 But this vision was instantly blotted out by the sprinkling from the machine guns； making the invaders fall in great heaps on the other side of the wall。 Don Marcelo never knew exactly how the change took place。 Suddenly he saw the red trousers within the park。 With irresistible bounds they were springing over the wall； slipping through the yawning gaps； and darting out from the depths of the woods by invisible paths。 They were little soldiers； husky； panting； perspiring； with torn cloaks； and mingled with them； in the disorder of the charge； African marksmen with devilish eyes and foaming mouths； Zouaves in wide breeches and chasseurs in blue uniforms。
The German officers wanted to die。 With upraised swords； after having exhausted the shots in their revolvers； they advanced upon their assailants followed by the soldiers who still obeyed them。 There was a scuffle； a wild melee。 To the trembling spectator； it seemed as though the world had fallen into profound silence。 The yells of the combatants； the thud of colliding bodies； the clang of arms s