It is then a hole, kept from falling in upon itself by a log
of wood or anything handy. This time, the "anything handy" seemed to be
part of an old wheelbarrow, and on top were some sandbags. In the room,
which was four times as long as it was broad, and twelve times longer
than high, a few vague soldier-forms crouched over a meal on the floor,
their tablecloth being a Paris newspaper. They scrambled to their feet,
but could not stand upright, and to see their stooping salute to
stooping officers in the smoky twilight, was like a vision in a dark,
convex mirror.
As we wound our way past the screen at the far end of the cellar
dining-room, my lieutenant explained the method in placing each
_pare-eclat_, as he called the screen. "You see, Mademoiselle, if a bomb
happened to break through and kill us, the screen would save the men
beyond," he said; then, remembering with a start that he was talking to
a woman, he hurried to add: "Oh, but we shall not be killed. Have no
fear. There's nothing of that sort on our programme to-day--at least,
not where we shall take _you_."
"Do I look as if I were afraid?" I asked.
"No, you look very brave, Mademoiselle," he flattered me. "I'm sure it
is more than the helmet which gives you that look. I believe, if you
were allowed you would go on past the safety zone."
"Where does the safety zone end?" I curiously questioned.
"It is different on different days. If you had come yesterday, you could
have had a good long promenade.
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