For Whom The Bell Tolls

by Эрнест Миллер Хемингуэй

  "Maria," he said. "Pass the Pilar before we reach the road and ride wide up that slope."

  She looked back at him but did not say anything. He did not look at her except to see that she had understood.

  "Comprendes?" he asked her.

  She nodded.

  "Move up," he said.

  She shook her head.

  "Move up!"

  "Nay," she told him, turning around and shaking her head. "I go in the order that I am to go."

  Just then Pablo dug both his spurs into the big bay and he plunged down the last pine-needled slope and cross the road in a pounding, sparking of shod hooves. The others came behind him and Robert Jordan saw them crossing the road and slamming on up the green slope and heard the machine gun hammer at the bridge. Then he heard a noise come sweeeish-crack-boom! The boom was a sharp crack that widened in the cracking and on the hillside he saw a small fountain of earth rise with a plume of gray smoke. Sweeish-crack-boom! It came again, the swishing like the noise of a rocket and there was another up-pulsing of dirt and smoke farther up the hillside.

  Ahead of him the gypsy was stopped beside the road in the shelter of the last trees. He looked ahead at the slope and then he looked back toward Robert Jordan.

  "Go ahead, Rafael," Robert Jordan said. "Gallop, man!"

  The gypsy was holding the lead rope with the pack-horse pulling his head taut behind him.

  "Drop the pack-horse and gallop!" Robert Jordan said.

  He saw the gypsy's hand extended behind him, rising higher and higher, seeming to take forever as his heels kicked into the horse he was riding and the rope came taut, then dropped, and he was across the road and Robert Jordan was kneeing against a frightened packhorse that bumped back into him as the gypsy crossed the hard, dark road and he heard his horse's hooves clumping as he galloped up the slope.

  Wheeeeeeish-ca-rack! The flat trajectory of the shell came and he saw the gypsy jink like a running boar as the earth spouted the little black and gray geyser ahead of him. He watched him galloping, slow and reaching now, up the long green slope and the gun threw behind him and ahead of him and he was under the fold of the hill with the others.

  I can't take the damned pack-horse, Robert Jordan thought. Though I wish I could keep the son of a bitch on my off side. I'd like to have him between me and that 47 mm. they're throwing with. By God, I'll try to get him up there anyway.

  He rode up to the pack-horse, caught hold of the hackamore, and then, holding the rope, the horse trotting behind him, rode fifty yards up through the trees. At the edge of the trees he looked down the road past the truck to the bridge. He could see men out on the bridge and behind it looked like a traffic jam on the road. Robert Jordan looked around, saw what he wanted finally and reached up and broke a dead limb from a pine tree. He dropped the hackamore, edged the pack-horse up to the slope that slanted down to the road and then hit him hard across the rump with the tree branch. "Go on, you son of a bitch," he said, and threw the dead branch after him as the pack-horse crossed the road and started across the slope. The branch hit him and the horse broke from a run into a gallop.

  Robert Jordan rode thirty yards farther up the road; beyond that the bank was too steep. The gun was firing now with the rocket whish and the cracking, dirt-spouting boom. "Come on, you big gray fascist bastard," Robert Jordan said to the horse and put him down the slope in a sliding plunge. Then he was out in the open, over the road that was so hard under the hooves he felt the pound of it come up all the way to his shoulders, his neck and his teeth, onto the smooth of the slope, the hooves finding it, cutting it, pounding it, reaching, throwing, going, and he looked down across the slope to where the bridge showed now at a new angle he had never seen. It crossed in profile now without foreshortening and in the center was the broken place and behind it on the road was the little tank and behind the little tank was a big tank with a gun that flashed now yellow-bright as a mirror and the screech as the air ripped apart seemed almost over the gray neck that stretched ahead of him, and he turned his head as the dirt fountained up the hillside. The pack-horse was ahead of him swinging too far to the right and slowing down and Robert Jordan, galloping, his head turned a little toward the bridge, saw the line of trucks halted behind the turn that showed now clearly as he was gaining height, and he saw the bright yellow flash that signalled the instant whish and boom, and the shell fell short, but he heard the metal sailing from where the dirt rose.

  He saw them all ahead in the edge of the timber watching him and he said, "Arre caballo! Go on, horse!" and felt his big horse's chest surging with the steepening of the slope and saw the gray neck stretching and the gray ears ahead and he reached and patted the wet gray neck, and he looked back at the bridge and saw the bright flash from the heavy, squat, mud-colored tank there on the road and then he did not hear any whish but only a banging acrid smelling clang like a boiler being ripped apart and he was under the gray horse and the gray horse was kicking and he was trying to pull out from under the weight.

  He could move all right. He could move toward the right. But his left leg stayed perfectly flat under the horse as he moved to the right. It was as though there was a new joint in it; not the hip joint but another one that went sideways like a hinge. Then he knew what it was all right and just then the gray horse knee-ed himself up and Robert Jordan's right leg, that had kicked the stirrup loose just as it should, slipped clear over the saddle and came down beside him and he felt with his two hands of his thigh bone where the left leg lay flat against the ground and his hands both felt the sharp bone and where it pressed against the skin.

  The gray horse was standing almost over him and he could see his ribs heaving. The grass was green where he sat and there were meadow flowers in it and he looked down the slope across to the road and the bridge and the gorge and the road and saw the tank and waited for the next flash. It came almost at once with again no whish and in the burst of it, with the smell of the high explosive, the dirt clods scattering and the steel whirring off, he saw the big gray horse sit quietly down beside him as though it were a horse in a circus. And then, looking at the horse sitting there, he heard the sound the horse was making.

  Then Primitivo and Agustin had him under the armpits and were dragging him up the last slope and the new joint in his leg let it swing any way the ground swung it. Once a shell whished close over them and they dropped him and fell flat, but the dirt scattered over them and and the metal sung off and they picked him up again. And then they had him up to the shelter of the long draw in the timber where the horses were, and Maria, Pilar and Pablo were standing over him.

  Maria was kneeling by him and saying, "Roberto, what hast thou?"

  He said, sweating heavily, "The left leg is broken, guapa."

  "We will bind it up," Pilar said. "Thou canst ride that." She pointed to one of the horses that was packed. "Cut off the load."

  Robert Jordan saw Pablo shake his head and he nodded at him.

  "Get along," he said. Then he said, "Listen, Pablo. Come here."

  The sweat-streaked, bristly face bent down by him and Robert Jordan smelt the full smell of Pablo.

  "Let us speak," he said to Pilar and Maria. "I have to speak to Pablo."

  "Does it hurt much?" Pablo asked. He was bending close over Robert Jordan.

  "No. I think the nerve is crushed. Listen. Get along. I am mucked, see? I will talk to the girl for a moment. When I say to take her, take her. She will want to stay. I will only speak to her for a moment."

  "Clearly, there is not much time," Pablo said.

  "Clearly."

  "I think you would do better in the Republic," Robert Jordan said.

  "Nay. I am for Gredos."

  "Use thy head."

  "Talk to her now," Pablo said. "There is little time. I am sorry thou hast this, Ingles."

  "Since I have it-" Robert Jordan said. "Let us not speak of it. But use thy head. Thou hast much head. Use it."

  "Why would I not?" said Pablo. "Talk now fast,
Ingles. There is no time."

  Pablo went over to the nearest tree and watched down the slope, across the slope and up the road across the gorge. Pablo was looking at the gray horse on the slope with true regret on his face and Pilar and Maria were with Robert Jordan where he sat against the tree trunk.

  "Slit the trouser, will thee?" he said to Pilar. Maria crouched by him and did not speak. The sun was on her hair and her face was twisted as a child's contorts before it cries. But she was not crying.

  Pilar took her knife and slit his trouser leg down below the lefthand pocket. Robert Jordan spread the cloth with his hands and looked at the stretch of his thigh. Ten inches below the hip joint there was a pointed, purple swelling like a sharp-peaked little tent and as he touched it with his fingers he could feel the snapped-off thigh bone tight against the skin. His leg was lying at an odd angle. He looked up at Pilar. Her face had the same expression as Maria's.

  "Anda," he said to her. "Go."

  She went away with her head down without saying anything nor looking back and Robert Jordan could see her shoulders shaking.

  "Guapa," he said to Maria and took hold of her two hands. "Listen. We will not be going to Madrid-"

  Then she started to cry.

  "No, guapa, don't," he said. "Listen. We will not go to Madrid now but I go always with thee wherever thou goest. Understand?"

  She said nothing and pushed her head against his cheek with her arms around him.

  "Listen to this well, rabbit," he said. He knew there was a great hurry and he was sweating very much, but this had to be said and understood. "Thou wilt go now, rabbit. But I go with thee. As long as there is one of us there is both of us. Do you understand?"

  "Nay, I stay with thee."

  "Nay, rabbit. What I do now I do alone. I could not do it well with thee. If thou goest then I go, too. Do you not see how it is? Whichever one there is, is both."

  "I will stay with thee."

  "Nay, rabbit. Listen. That people cannot do together. Each one must do it alone. But if thou goest then I go with thee. It is in that way that I go too. Thou wilt go now, I know. For thou art good and kind. Thou wilt go now for us both."

  "But it is easier if I stay with thee," she said. "It is better for me."

  "Yes. Therefore go for a favor. Do it for me since it is what thou canst do."

  "But you don't understand, Roberto. What about me? It is worse for me to go."

  "Surely," he said. "It is harder for thee. But I am thee also now."

  She said nothing.

  He looked at her and he was sweating heavily and he spoke now, trying harder to do something than he had ever tried in all his life.

  "Now you will go for us both," he said. "You must not be selfish, rabbit. You must do your duty now."

  She shook her head.

  "You are me now," he said. "Surely thou must feel it, rabbit.

  "Rabbit, listen," he said. "Truly thus I go too. I swear it to thee."

  She said nothing.

  "Now you see it," he said. "Now I see it is clear. Now thou wilt go. Good. Now you are going. Now you have said you will go."

  She had said nothing.

  "Now I thank thee for it. Now you are going well and fast and far and we both go in thee. Now put thy hand here. Now put thy head down. Nay, put it down. That is right. Now I put my hand there. Good. Thou art so good. Now do not think more. Now art thou doing what thou should. Now thou art obeying. Not me but us both. The me in thee. Now you go for us both. Truly. We both go in thee now. This I have promised thee. Thou art very good to go and very kind."

  He jerked his head at Pablo, who was half-looking at him from the tree and Pablo started over. He motioned with his thumb to Pilar.

  "We will go to Madrid another time, rabbit," he said. "Truly. Now stand up and go and we both go. Stand up. See?"

  "No," she said and held him tight around the neck.

  He spoke now still calmly and reasonably but with great authority.

  "Stand up," he said. "Thou art me too now. Thou art all there will be of me. Stand up."

  She stood up slowly, crying, and with her head down. Then she dropped quickly beside him and then stood up again, slowly and tiredly, as he said, "Stand up, guapa."

  Pilar was holding her by the arm and she was standing there.

  "Vamonos," Pilar said. "Dost lack anything, Ingles?" She looked at him and shook her head.

  "No," he said and went on talking to Maria.

  "There is no good-by, guapa, because we are not apart. That it should be good in the Gredos. Go now. Go good. Nay," he spoke now still calmly and reasonably as Pilar walked the girl along. "Do not turn around. Put thy foot in. Yes. Thy foot in. Help her up," he said to Pilar. "Get her in the saddle. Swing up now."

  He turned his head, sweating, and looked down the slope, then back toward where the girl was in the saddle with Pilar by her and Pablo just behind. "Now go," he said. "Go."

  She started to look around. "Don't look around," Robert Jordan said. "Go." And Pablo hit the horse across the crupper with a hobbling strap and it looked as though Maria tried to slip from the saddle but Pilar and Pablo were riding close up against her and Pilar was holding her and the three horses were going up the draw.

  "Roberto," Maria turned and shouted. "Let me stay! Let me stay!"

  "I am with thee," Robert Jordan shouted. "I am with thee now. We are both there. Go!" Then they were out of sight around the corner of the draw and he was soaking wet with sweat and looking at nothing.

  Agustin was standing by him.

  "Do you want me to shoot thee, Ingles?" he asked, leaning down close. "Quieres? It is nothing."

  "No hace falta," Robert Jordan said. "Get along. I am very well here."

  "Me cago en la leche que me han dado!" Agustin said. He was crying so he could not see Robert Jordan clearly. "Salud, Ingles."

  "Salud, old one," Robert Jordan said. He was looking down the slope now. "Look well after the cropped head, wilt thou?"

  "There is no problem," Agustin said. "Thou has what thou needest?"

  "There are very few shells for this maquina, so I will keep it," Robert Jordan said. "Thou canst now get more. For that other and the one of Pablo, yes."

  "I cleaned out the barrel," Agustin said. "Where thou plugged it in the dirt with the fall."

  "What became of the pack-horse?"

  "The gypsy caught it."

  Agustin was on the horse now but he did not want to go. He leaned far over toward the tree where Robert Jordan lay.

  "Go on, viejo," Robert Jordan said to him. "In war there are many things like this."

  "Que puta es Ia guerra," Agustin said. "War is a bitchery."

  "Yes, man, yes. But get on with thee."

  "Salud, Ingles," Agustin said, clenching his right fist.

  "Salud," Robert Jordan said. "But get along, man."

  Agustin wheeled his horse and brought his right fist down as though he cursed again with the motion of it and rode up the draw. All the others had been out of sight long before. He looked back where the draw turned in the timber and waved his fist. Robert Jordan waved and then Agustin, too, was out of sight.. . Robert Jordan looked down the green slope of the hillside to the road and the bridge. I'm as well this way as any, he thought. It wouldn't be worth risking getting over on my belly yet, not as close as that thing was to the surface, and I can see better this way.

  He felt empty and drained and exhausted from all of it and from them going and his mouth tasted of bile. Now, finally and at last, there was no problem. however all of it had been and however all of it would ever be now, for him, no longer was there any problem.

  They were all gone now and he was alone with his back against a tree. He looked down across the green slope, seeing the gray horse where Agustin had shot him, and on down the slope to the road with the timber-covered country behind it. Then he looked at the bridge and across the bridge and watched the activity on the bridge and the road. He could see the trucks now, all down the lowe
r road. The gray of the trucks showed through the trees. Then he looked back up the road to where it came down over the hill. They will be coming soon now, he thought.

  Pilar will take care of her as well as any one can. You know that. Pablo must have a sound plan or he would not have tried it. You do not have to worry about Pablo. It does no good to think about Maria. Try to believe what you told her. That is the best. And who says it is not true? Not you. You don't say it, any more than you would say the things did not happen that happened. Stay with what you believe now. Don't get cynical. The time is too short and you have just sent her away. Each one does what he can. You can do nothing for yourself but perhaps you can do something for another. Well, we had all our luck in four days. Not four days. It was afternoon when I first got there and it will not be noon today. That makes not quite three days and three nights. Keep it accurate, he said. Quite accurate.

  I think you better get down now, he thought. You better get fixed around some way where you will be useful instead of leaning against this tree like a tramp. You have had much luck. There are many worse things than this. Every one has to do this, one day or another. You are not afraid of it once you know you have to do it, are you? No, he said, truly. It was lucky the nerve was crushed, though. I cannot even feel that there is anything below the break. He touched the lower part of his leg and it was as though it were not part of his body.

  He looked down the hill slope again and he thought, I hate to leave it, is all. I hate to leave it very much and I hope I have done some good in it. I have tried to with what talent I had. Have, you mean. All right, have.

  I have fought for what I believed in for a year now. If we win here we will win everywhere. The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for and I hate very much to leave it. And you had a lot of luck, he told himself, to have had such a good life. You've had just as good a life as grandfather's though not as long. You've had as good a life as any one because of these last days. You do not want to complain when you have been so lucky. I wish there was some way to pass on what I've learned, though. Christ, I was learning fast there at the end. I'd like to talk to Karkov. That is in Madrid. Just over the hills there, and down across the plain. Down out of the gray rocks and the pines, the heather and the gorse, across the yellow high plateau you see it rising white and beautiful. That part is just as true as Pilar's old women drinking the blood down at the slaughterhouse. There's no one thing that's true. It's all true. The way the planes are beautiful whether they are ours or theirs. The hell they are, he thought.