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SHE was s.h.i.+elding a girl whose eyes resembled Igor's. The girl who had watched to escape.
AND could not
THE uniform, the sabre--
GONE was the memory of a brown habit.
HE came nearer. Was it a woman--
HE clasped her. Her soft hair brushed his face.
OTHER soldiers came--dragged her from him. Fought over her like powerful beasts, heeding not the mother--
IGOR--protect her
IN a drunken rage he caught the girl to the open window--
I'LL kill her he screamed. You--who seem to know my name.
THE crime was spared him.
HER lifeless body slipped from his arms.
IGOR, gasped the mother, You have killed--
I'LL kill you!--the wine had infuriated--he lifted his sabre--
STOP--you are my son
DAZED--he heard the words but understood not.
A NIGHT of drunkenness, of horror, had pa.s.sed in the Belgian chateau.
THE captors had damaged--broken--destroyed.
THE sun was setting on a second day--when Igor awoke.
THE first time in his life he awakened from drink. He reached out expecting to find the rough wall of the monastery
HE felt a dead body--the sharp edge of a sabre--
WHERE--
ORDERS had come
THE army
HAD there been battles--
--AND slowly memory returned--
STOP--you are my son.
WHO had said it--was it long ago--No. Only after the wine cellar--
HE sat up--on the floor--where drunkenness had overcome him.
THE horrible memory of his crime swept over him.
HIS mother--
HE seized the body and gazed at the staring eyes. Then this was the remorse the older monks had told him--had been his father's--
AND he--her son--had plunged his sabre into her heart
HIS own was bursting.
AND this girl. He had not killed her--she had died--
WAS she--his sister--only of a different father--
WE are through--burn
A HARD line played on the lips of the commander
THE flames leapt from room to room--
IGOR--
THE smoke--it was overcoming him--
HIS mother--
HE had forgotten how to pray
AN unutterable abyss.
THE horror of war
THE fire blazed upward--smoke filled the room--
THERE'S the bell--he staggered to his feet--It is ringing
