Man's Hope by Andre Malraux

Author:Andre Malraux [Andre Malraux]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

PART TWO

THE MANZANARES

1

Action and Reaction

I

The panic-stricken mob that had fled from Toledo, the un-armed milicianos from the Tagus, and the remnants of peasant battalions from Estremadura, were flocking into Aranjuez station. Like leaves whirled together and then dispersed by the wind, groups that had arrived at the double vanished amongst the red-flowered chestnut trees of the park or, like lunatics in their asylum garden, tramped up and down the avenues of majestic plane-trees.

The draggled remnants of so many dramatically named formations - the Unconquerables, the Red Eagles, the Eagles of Liberty - were moving to and fro excitedly on a carpet of fallen flowers, thick as the dead leaves on a forest path. Their arms hung down, dragging their rifles after them like dogs on a leash; now and then they stopped to listen to the sounds of the approaching guns on the far side of the river. Between the shots, rising up from the ground and deadened by the heavy curtain of decaying chestnut flowers, they could hear the faint sound of an ancient bell.

'A church bell at a time like this!' Manuel exclaimed.

'It sounds more like a gardener's bell to me,’ Lopez replied. ‘It comes from by the station.'

Other bells, large and small, bicycle bells, motor-horns, and even a clatter of cooking-pots, were mingling now with the deep notes of the bell they first had heard. And, across the violet-leaves as large as a man's hand, there poured out of the recesses of the park the wreckage of the revolutionary dream like wild tribes rallying to their tom-toms, with their paraphernalia of swords, striped blankets, garments made of curtains sporting guns, and even the latest Mexican hats.

‘And to think that at least half of them are plucky enough!’ Manuel said.

'The quaintest thing of all, you owl,' Lopez observed, 'is that they haven't smashed a single bust.'

From end to end of the park, the famous plaster busts, rose-pink now in the reflection of the weathered bricks, remained unharmed under the romantic plane-trees. Manuel did not look at them. Eddying like some aviary brought from the Americas by Spanish princes for their Aranjuez garden, the fantastic rout straggled down towards the station, under the brick arcades bathed in the rosy light of the royal vistas.

As Manuel and Lopez began following the crowd towards the station, one word grew clear, and the word was 'Locomotive'. On no account must they go to Madrid! Manuel thought. Only too easy it was to picture the effects of ten thousand demoralized men arriving there, full of the most hair-raising yarns, immediately after the fall of Toledo, just when Madrid was desperately organizing her defences.

They were now quite near the station. 'Drid-drid-drid-Madrid-drid-drid' sounded on all sides like the chirring of a swarm of frenzied crickets.

'Having cut and run, they'll try to make out the Moors are irresistible.' Lopez said. 'The Moors must be better armed, and all the rest of it - just to account for their running away!'

'They bolted because they weren't officered. Before that they fought as well as we did.

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