In the Days of the Comet

  Section 6

  With the dawn that awakening went about the earth. I have told howit came to me, and how I walked in wonder through the transfiguredcornfields of Shaphambury. It came to every one. Near me, and forthe time, clear forgotten by me, Verrall and Nettie woke--woke nearone another, each heard before all other sounds the other's voiceamidst the stillness, and the light. And the scattered people whohad run to and fro, and fallen on the beach of Bungalow village,awoke; the sleeping villagers of Menton started, and sat up inthat unwonted freshness and newness; the contorted figures in thegarden, with the hymn still upon their lips, stirred amidst theflowers, and touched each other timidly, and thought of Paradise.My mother found herself crouched against the bed, and rose--rosewith a glad invincible conviction of accepted prayer. . . .

  Already, when it came to us, the soldiers, crowded between thelines of dusty poplars along the road to Allarmont, were chattingand sharing coffee with the French riflemen, who had hailed themfrom their carefully hidden pits among the vineyards up the slopesof Beauville. A certain perplexity had come to these marksmen, whohad dropped asleep tensely ready for the rocket that should wakethe whirr and rattle of their magazines. At the sight and sound ofthe stir and human confusion in the roadway below, it had come toeach man individually that he could not shoot. One conscript, atleast, has told his story of his awakening, and how curious he thoughtthe rifle there beside him in his pit, how he took it on his kneesto examine. Then, as his memory of its purpose grew clearer, hedropped the thing, and stood up with a kind of joyful horror atthe crime escaped, to look more closely at the men he was to haveassassinated. "Brave types," he thought, they looked for sucha fate. The summoning rocket never flew. Below, the men did notfall into ranks again, but sat by the roadside, or stood in groupstalking, discussing with a novel incredulity the ostensible causesof the war. "The Emperor!" said they; and "Oh, nonsense! We'recivilized men. Get some one else for this job! . . . Where's thecoffee?"

  The officers held their own horses, and talked to the men frankly,regardless of discipline. Some Frenchmen out of the rifle-pits camesauntering down the hill. Others stood doubtfully, rifles still inhand. Curious faces scanned these latter. Little arguments sprangas: "Shoot at us! Nonsense! They're respectable French citizens."There is a picture of it all, very bright and detailed in themorning light, in the battle gallery amidst the ruins at old Nancy,and one sees the old-world uniform of the "soldier," the odd capsand belts and boots, the ammunition-belt, the water-bottle, thesort of tourist's pack the men carried, a queer elaborate equipment.The soldiers had awakened one by one, first one and then another.I wonder sometimes whether, perhaps, if the two armies had comeawake in an instant, the battle, by mere habit and inertia, mightnot have begun. But the men who waked first, sat up, lookedabout them in astonishment, had time to think a little. . . .