. ."
"I want to kill," cried Benham. "Oh! I want to kill people. Come
on, Amanda! It blisters one's eyes. Come away. Come away! Come!"
Her face was white and her eyes terror-stricken. She obeyed him
mechanically. She gave one last look at those bodies. . . .
Down the deep-rutted soil of the village street they clattered.
They came to houses that had been set on fire. . . .
"What is that hanging from a tree?" cried Amanda. "Oh, oh!"
"Come on. . . ."
Behind them rode the others scared and hurrying.
The sunlight had become the light of hell. There was no air but
horror. Across Benham's skies these fly-blown trophies of devilry
dangled mockingly in the place of God. He had no thought but to get
away.
Presently they encountered a detachment of Turkish soldiers, very
greasy and ragged, with worn-out boots and yellow faces, toiling up
the stony road belatedly to the village. Amanda and Benham riding
one behind the other in a stricken silence passed this labouring
column without a gesture, but presently they heard the commander
stopping and questioning Giorgio.
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