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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Light, by Henri Barbusse This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: Light Author: Henri Barbusse Release Date: July 14, 2004 [EBook #12904] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIGHT *** Produced by David S. Miller LIGHT BY HENRI BARBUSSE AUTHOR OF "UNDER FIRE" "WE OTHERS," ETC. TRANSLATED BY FITZWATER WRAY 1919 CONTENTS I. MYSELF II. OURSELVES III. EVENING AND DAWN IV. MARIE V. DAY BY DAY VI. A VOICE IN THE EVENING VII. A SUMMARY VIII. THE BRAWLER IX. THE STORM X. THE WALLS XI. AT THE WORLD'S END XII. THE SHADOWS XIII. WHITHER GOEST THOU? XIV. THE RUINS XV. AN APPARITION XVI. DE PROFUNDIS CLAMAVI XVII. MORNING XVIII. EYES THAT SEE XIX. GHOSTS XX. THE CULT XXI. NO! XXII. LIGHT XXIII. FACE TO FACE LIGHT CHAPTER I MYSELF All the days of the week are alike, from their beginning to their end. At seven in the evening one hears the clock strike gently, and then the instant tumult of the bell. I close the desk, wipe my pen, and put it down. I take my hat and muffler, after a glance at the mirror--a glance which shows me the regular oval of my face, my glossy hair and fine mustache. (It is obvious that I am rather more than a workman.) I put out the light and descend from my little glass-partitioned office. I cross the boiler-house, myself in the grip of the thronging, echoing peal which has set it free. From among the dark and hurrying crowd, which increases in the corridors and rolls down the stairways like a cloud, some passing voices cry to me, "Good-night, Monsieur Simon," or, with less familiarity, "Good-night, Monsieur Paulin." I answer here and there, and allow myself to be borne away by everybody else. Outside, on the threshold of the porch which opens on the naked plain and its pallid horizons, one sees the squares and triangles of the factory, like a huge black background of the stage, and the tall extinguished chimney, whose only crown now is the cloud of falling night. Confusedly, the dark flood carries me away. Along the wall which fa
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