There she seemed to
see a procession of the enemy, grieving in the same way as were her
family. She saw Elena with her daughters going in and out among the
burial grounds, seeking a loved one, falling on their knees before a
cross. Ay, this mournful satisfaction, she could never know completely!
It would be forever impossible for her to pass to the opposite side in
search of the other grave, for, even after some time had passed by, she
could never find it. The beloved body of Otto would have disappeared
forever in one of the nameless pits which they had just passed.
"O Lord, why did we ever come to these lands? Why did we not continue
living in the land where we were born?" . . .
Desnoyers, too, uniting his thoughts with hers, was seeing again the
pampas, the immense green plains of the ranch where he had become
acquainted with his wife. Again he could hear the tread of the herds. He
recalled Madariaga on tranquil nights proclaiming, under the splendor of
the stars, the joys of peace, the sacred brotherhood of these people
of most diverse extraction, united by labor, abundance and the lack of
political ambition.
And as his thoughts swung back to the lost son he, too, exclaimed with
his wife, "Oh, why did we ever come? . . ." He, too, with the solidarity
of grief, began to sympathize with those on the other side of the battle
front.
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