Page:Rolland - Clerambault, tr. Miller, 1921.djvu/282



It was Good Friday, and the rising tide of invasion swept up towards the Ile de France. Even this day of sacred sorrow had not stopped the massacre, for the lay war knows nothing of the Truce of God. Christ had been bombarded in one of His churches, and the news of the murderous explosion at St. Gervais that afternoon spread at nightfall through the darkened city, wrapped in its grief, its rage, and its fear.

The sad little group of friends had gathered at Froment's house; each one had come hoping to meet the others, without previous appointment. They could see nothing but violence all about them; in the present as well as in the future, in the enemy's camp, in their own, on the side of revolutionists, and reactionaries as well. Their agony and their doubts met in one thought. The sculptor was saying:

"Our holiest convictions, our faith in peace and human brotherhood rest in vain on reason and love; is there any hope then that they can conquer men? We are too weak."

Clerambault, half-unconsciously, as the words of Isaiah came to his mind, uttered them aloud:

"Darkness covers the earth, And the cloud envelops the people...."

He stopped, but from the faintly-lighted bed came Froment's voice, continuing:

"Rise, for on the tops of the mountains The light shineth forth...."

"Yes, the light will dawn," said Madame Froment; she was sitting on the foot of the bed in the dark near Clerambault; he leaned forward and took her hand. It was as if a thrill widened through the room, like a ripple over water.