"Yes. Oh yes!" he cried, quickly, "and you are but
one of a hundred; I am another. In my command there is a standing
order to spare neither Cobo nor any of his assassins; they neither
expect nor receive quarter from us. Now, companero"--the Cuban
dropped a hand on O'Reilly's bowed head--"I am sorry that I had to
bring you such evil tidings, but, we are men--and this is war."
"No, no! It isn't war--it's merciless savagery! To murder children
and to outrage women--why, that violates all the ethics of
warfare."
"Ethics!" the colonel cried, harshly. "Ethics? Hell is without
ethics. Why look for ethics in war? Violence--injustice--insanity-
-chaos--THAT is war. It is man's agony--woman's despair. It is a
defiance of God. War is without mercy, without law; it is--well,
it is the absence of all law, all good."
There was a considerable silence. Then Lopez went on in another
key.
"We Cubans carry heavy hearts, but our wrongs have made us mighty,
and our sufferings have made us brave. Here in the orient we do
well enough; but, believe me, you cannot imagine the desolation
and the suffering farther west--whole provinces made barren and
their inhabitants either dead or dying. The world has never seen
anything like Weyler's slaughter of the innocents. If there is
indeed a God--and sometimes I doubt it--he will not permit this
horror to continue; from every pool of Cuban blood another patriot
will spring up, until we drive that archfiend and his armies into
the sea.
Pages:
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251