I stood a moment at the opening of the wall and looked out over the fair landscape. The trance-like wonder of that moment I can never forget. Upon the brink of what tremendous phenomenon did I stand? Was the visible intervention of the Most High soon to be revealed, and we—my sister and myself—were we the chosen instrumentalities—trivial and feeble—for its transcendent beauty?
The westering sun threw the long shadows of the chateau, far flung over the trees and bushes, the slopes and even outward upon the throngs, at my distance hardly seen to move, a generally dark streaming mass, darkening at the horizon, which it seemed to overrun—the exodus of a nation! Beyond the farthest elevations northward, and again southward in the plain, extended—unseen but understood—the boyeaux, the labyrinths, the cave shelters, of Picardy and Champagne where the soldiers waited. Beyond that ravelled edge of desperation, of suffering, of confronted death, lay the bordering edges of the enemy. Beyond that again, another concourse, summoned from the towns, the villages, and the farm-lands of Germany, instinct with the same hallucination. And above us all—WHAT? The approaching descent of the shriven and unshriven hosts of the slain?
The day, fast closing, ushered in a night warm and clear. I assisted Gabrielle up the long ascent of stairs; I returned for the baskets and wraps and two small tent-stool chairs, our entire furnishment for that ordeal, doubtless, unattended, I divined, with either hunger or fatigue. Still the provision of these simple comforts seemed wise. Indeed as the day died away, we ate the bread and drank the wine, in silence, waiting. Below us came the murmurs, the catches of song, the wailing melodies of hymns, and over the illimitable concourse spread with flickering inconstancy, the spangles of lights, with here and there a spurt of flames from the bonfires of improvised camps.
Perhaps it was about midnight, or later—we knew nothing of time, the very breathing of our bodies, the beating of our hearts, hurried and rapid as they were, were not even felt, or were only noticed in the moments of self-realization. How could it have been otherwise? About midnight, I say, we both became conscious of an unwonted agitation in our minds or souls—who shall say which?—and we started up together, crouching down at the broken gap of the parapet. Surely the instinct of premonition was awakened in us. The sky was moonless. The stars shone distantly, their light softened into spotted glows only.
"Look," it was Gabrielle speaking, with uplifted hand pointing above us.
I raised my eyes.
A light—O so slowly developed—the faintest possible silvery radiance, emerged somewhere in the centre—or what seemed to us the centre—of the sky, and grew steadily broader and brighter. At first it was a curdling spot of light, from whose rapidly moving—we could now discern its motion—edges, like the margins of a thunder cloud which is torn or frayed into wisps of sullen vapor, thin wavering flames of a richer golden light shot softly, now piercing the darkness in arrowy lines, now withdrawn to descend again in broad blades of nebulous splendor. And from them an illumination, pale, like the first morning's glow, spread upon the earth beneath, and the dense distant masses of men, the springing features of the landscape, slowly developed spectrally. How marvellous it was. I was transfixed not with wonder so much as with admiration, an awful admiration—Ah yes a quickening sense of worship perhaps. Within me stirred those original promptings of a recognition of the OVER-RULE, somewhere in those depthless heavens above us, where the stars shine.
Gabrielle had risen to her feet, and with her hands clasped tightly across her eyes swayed with the moment's inspiration, with her own evoked transcendentally strengthened powers. I stood aside and watched, a human record simply of the immeasurable spectacle.
The light descended bodily; it almost seemed as a shimmering mist at first but taking on a skeiny texture, and streaked here and there with lines of brightness. If it was a vast cloud of the disembodied it was too far away from us to analyze it into forms or faces, or whatever the spectral apparitions were. There however incontestably before us, it grew and distended and softly sank, in an increasing radiance, upon the earth. This radiance was superbly delicate, and yet intense. It seemed almost colorless, though I thought, too, bluescent masses passed over it or through it, like floating shadows on a wall. The fight was comparable to the strong glow of an electric light, shaded within an opalescent glass. The whole descent of the cloud was in the nature of a progression or inundation. It appeared to touch the earth, and then to roll north and south, while an endless ocean of the same brightness poured downward from the remote zenith. It was ineffably amazing.
But quietly, like the rising winds in an approaching storm, motion developed. And it became quicker and quicker, until I could discern within the vast, white, shining envelope, currents of light passing this way and that in unbroken rushes, and then came a sound. I heard it distinctly and yet doubted my senses. I turned to Gabrielle. She was not there. Terrified with the sudden thought of some miraculous transfiguration I called aloud. My voice was a whisper. Turning abruptly to one side I stumbled upon her prostrate body. She lay almost face downward, on the damp paving, and as I seized her and raised her up, there could scarcely be perceived any token of life in her. Hastily chafing her hands, and clasping her to my breast for warmth, I felt the renewed pulsations, and a moment later she opened her eyes and gazed at me in a transfixed vacant way that again startled my fears as to some hideous issues to this night of wonder.