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215 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1935
Can't you see that your chromo album is the mockery of the world? While all of us here are fighting, sacrificing ourselves to make an hour that is ours, there you are, flipping through your engravings, forever ready!... What is it? Which one do you stop at with those blind eyes? To the one, no doubt, where you are on this same rampart, contemplating the battle?""
Priam: The victorious general must always speak in honour of the dead when the Gates are closed.
Hector: An Oration for the Dead of a war is a hypocritical speech in defence of the living, a plea for acquittal. I am not so sure of my innocence.
Demokos: The High Command is not responsible.
Hector: Alas, no one is: nor the Gods either. Besides, I have given my oration for the dead already. I gave it to them in their last minute of life, when they were lying on the battlefield, on a little slope of olive-trees, while they could still attend me with what was left of their sight and hearing. I can tell you what I said to them. There was one, disemboweled, already turning up the white of his eyes, and I said to him: ‘It’s not so bad, you know, it’s not so bad; you will do all right, old man’. And one with his skull split in two; I said: ‘You look pretty comical with that broken nose’. And my little equerry, with his left arm hanging useless and his last blood flowing out of him; and I said, ‘It’s a good thing for you it’s the left arm you’ve splintered’. I am happy I gave them one final swig of life; it was all they asked for; they died drinking it. And there’s nothing else to be said. Shut the Gates.
Polyxene: Did the little equerry die, as well?
Hector: Yes, puss-cat. He died. He stretched out his right arm. Someone I couldn’t see took him by his perfect hand. And then he died.