The Centaurs by André Lichtenberger

Author:André Lichtenberger [Lichtenberger, André]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Coat Press
Published: 2013-12-20T00:00:00+00:00

Tomorrow, at dawn, the tritons will present themselves in front of the Red Rocks. At their summons, the centaurs will emerge from the Grottos, and throw themselves into the sea behind them. As far as tradition goes back, stage by stage, the sovereign animals have followed the sun, driven from the Orient by the invading tide of cold. Cheerful and placid years have been succeeded, stage after stage, by diluvian and glacial rains destructive of all life, primarily destructive of the indispensable root, rheki. In pursuit of the precious plant, the centaurs, for generation after generation, have moved westwards. So it is not only the horror of the necessary murder, it is the entire instinct of their race that is drawing them toward the distant land, and causes them to envisage the solemn exodus with serenity.

Joyful to have made a decision, confident in the future, they spend their last day resting, gathering new shoots—which, the disaster having passed, have had the courage to grow again—and chewing a few fruits that have escaped the inundation. Only Kadilda separates herself from her people, wanting to see the places where she has lived since her earliest infancy, separation from which makes her heart bleeds, one last time.

So, as soon as the sun rises, she quits the Grottos and, following the shore, goes to the mouth of the River of Swans, which she follows upstream. Since the diluvian rains she has not returned to the clearing in the chestnut trees. Now, as she approaches it, a more penetrating sadness descends upon her.

Here too the catastrophe has done its work. Swollen by the rainfall, the river has overflowed its banks and devastated the woods. When it returned to its bed, it left behind a muddy desert. Beneath the stinking mire, all life is extinct. Instead of the familiar groves, thickets and trails, there is nothing but sinister mud, full of vegetable debris, in which a few lamentable groups of leafless trees stand up at intervals.

The clearing itself is unrecognizable. The young saplings have been torn away by the torrent. The old trunk has been carried away with all the cherished treasures it contained. If the virgin did not remember the disposition of a few immutable stumps that have withstood the effort of the waters, she would think that she was in a strange place. The entire past is dead.

And Kadilda, in her grief, experiences a bitter joy. She will not leave behind her anything that she has loved. Without turning round, she draws away and goes into the woods. An odor of putrescence weighs in the air. Instead of going back to the beach, however, she will say a last farewell to the beasts who cherish her, and to her little brothers the fauns.

But her friends have fallen victim to the frightful rain in large numbers. Mad with terror, most of those who survived have fled the inhospitable forest. For several days, however, life has begun to regenerate in the underwood. The centauress has scarcely taken a few steps when there is a loud noise in the undergrowth.

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