Blood everywhere; the soil watered with blood.
Christian and infidel made one in their wounds, no
difference at all, and made one in death —lying
side by side, united in death.

'Jesus Christ, the Shepherd, the Lamb, and the
Victim.'

The Armenians had fought well, they were still
fighting well, intent on avenging the wrongs of their
people, but the Turks appeared to be in full flight.
Here and there a stand made by exhausted men who
were ready to die and thus asked for no quarter. They
went gallantly, those who had stayed to die. . . .
Christian and infidel united in death ... it was
always the same, an eternal oneness. But was it the
same now that God was dead? Who was ringing
those bells so persistently? They had come very close,
very close to one's ears . . . they seemed outside
oneself and yet inside one's brain. Could the Colonel
hear them? Did Jan hear those bells? Jan knew the
tune well — an old Provengal hymn: cjesus Christ,
the Shepherd, the Lamb, and the Victim.*

478