No, it would
wrap its shapeless arms around me and stab me to the heart with
its fiery eyes. I should turn and run in the middle of the battle.
I should trample on my wounded comrades. I should be shot in the
back and die in disgrace. O my God! my God! who can save me from
this? It is horrible. I cannot bear it."
The priest laid his hand gently on Pierre's quivering shoulder.
"Courage, my son!"
"I have none."
"Then say to yourself that fear is nothing."
"It would be a lie. This fear is real."
"Then cease to tremble at it; kill it."
"Impossible. I am afraid of fear."
"Then carry it as your burden, your cross. Take it back to Verdun
with you."
"I dare not. It would poison the others. It would bring me to
dishonor."
"Pray to God for help."
"He will not answer me. I am a wicked man. Father, I have made my
confession. Will you give me a penance and absolve me?"
"Promise to go back to the army and fight as well as you can."
"Alas! that is what I cannot do. My mind is shaken to pieces.
Whither shall I turn? I can decide nothing.
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