"Why, then,
perhaps you and Mary--Miss O'Malley----"
What would have happened if she had finished her sentence I shall never
know, for just then came a crash as if the house were falling.
Window-glass shivered. The hotel shook as though in an earthquake. Out
went the electric light, leaving only our candles aglow under red
shades.
Bar-le-Duc was in for an air raid.
CHAPTER IX
For a moment we thought the house had been struck by a bomb, and were
astonished that it stood. In the uproar of explosions and crashings and
jinglings, the small silence of our room--with its gay chrysanthemums
and shaded candles--was like that of a sheltered oasis in a desert
storm.
Not one of us uttered a sound. Father Beckett took his wife in his arms,
and held her tight, her face hidden in his coat. Brian had not even got
up from his chair by the table. He'd lighted a cigarette, and continued
to smoke calmly, a half-smile on his face, as if the bombardment carried
him back to life in the trenches. But the beautiful sightless eyes
searched for what they could not see: and I knew that I was in his
thoughts. I would have gone to him, after the first petrifying instant
of surprise, but the singing-man stopped me. "Are you afraid?" I heard
his voice close to my ear. Perhaps he shouted. But in the din it was as
if he whispered.
"No!" I flung back. "Had you not better go and take care of your
sister?"
He laughed. "My sister! Look at her! Does she need taking care of?"
The girl had come from the suddenly darkened _salon_ into our room.
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