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that to them seemed unusually long 。 。 。 and then suddenly a sound like a distant peal of thunder which appeared to come from the clouds。 Desnoyers no longer felt the nervous twitter against his knee。 The senator seemed surprised； his expression seemed to say； 〃And is that all？ 。 。 。 The heaps of earth above them had deadened the report； so that the discharge of the great machine seemed no more than the blow of a club upon a mattress。 Far more impressive was the scream of the projectile sounding at a great height but displacing the air with such violence that its waves reached even to the window。
It went flying 。 。 。 flying； its roar lessening。 Some time passed before they noticed its effects； and the two friends began to believe that it must have been lost in space。 〃It will not strike 。 。 。 it will not strike；〃 they were thinking。 Suddenly there surged up on the horizon； exactly in the spot indicated over the blur of the woods； a tremendous column of smoke； a whirling tower of black vapor followed by a volcanic explosion。
〃How dreadful it must be to be there！〃 said the senator。
He and Desnoyers were experiencing a sensation of animal joy； a selfish hilarity in seeing themselves in such a safe place several yards underground。
〃The Germans are going to reply at any moment；〃 said Don Marcelo to his friend。
The senator was of the same opinion。 Undoubtedly they would retaliate； carrying on an artillery duel。
All of the French batteries had opened fire。 The mountain was thundering； the shell whining； the horizon； still tranquil； was bristling with black； spiral columns。 The two realized more and more how snug they were in this retreat； like a box at the theatre。
Someone touched Lacour on the shoulder。 It was one of the captains who was conducting them through the front。
〃We are going above；〃 he said simply。 〃You must see close by how our cannons are working。 The sight will be well worth the trouble。〃
Above？ 。 。 。 The illustrious man was as perplexed； as astonished as though he had suggested an interplanetary trip。 Above； when the enemy was going to reply from one minute to another？ 。 。 。
The captain explained that sub…Lieutenant Lacour was perhaps awaiting his father。 By telephone they had advised his battery stationed a little further on； it would be necessary to go now in order to see him。 So they again climbed up to the light through the mouth of the tunnel。 The senator then drew himself up； majestically erect。
〃They are going to fire at us；〃 said a voice in his interior； 〃The foe is going to reply。〃
But he adjusted his coat like a tragic mantle and advanced at a circumspect and solemn pace。 If those military men； adversaries of parliamentarism； fancied that they were going to laugh up their sleeve at the timidity of a civilian； he would show them their mistake！
Desnoyers could not but admire the resolution with which the great man made his exit from the shelter； exactly as if he were going to march against the foe。
At a little distance； the atmosphere was rent into tumultuous waves； making their legs tremble； their ears hum； and their necks feel as though they had just been struck。 They both thought that the Germans had begun to return the fire； but it was the French who were shooting。 A feathery stream of vapor came up out of the woods a dozen yards away； dissolving instantly。 One of the largest pieces； hidden in the nearby thicket； had just been discharged。 The captains continued their explanations without stopping their journey。 It was necessary to pass directly in front of the spitting monster； in spite of the violence of its reports； so as not to venture out into the open woods near the watch tower。 They were expecting from one second to another now； the response from their neighbors across the way。 The guide accompanying Don Marcelo congratulated him on the fearlessness with which he was enduring the cannonading。
〃My friend is well acquainted with it；〃 remarked the senator proudly。 〃He was in the battle of the Marne。〃
The two soldiers evidently thought this very strange； considering Desnoyers' advanced age。 To what section had he belonged？ In what capacity had he served？ 。 。 。
〃Merely as a victim；〃 was the modest reply。
An officer came running toward them from the tower side； across the cleared space。 He waved his kepi several times that they might see him better。 Lacour trembled for him。 The enemy might descry him； he was simply making a target of himself by cutting across that open space in order to reach them the sooner。 。 。 。 And he trembled still more as he came nearer。 。 。 。 It was Rene！
His hands returned with some astonishment the strong； muscular grasp。 He noticed that the outlines of his son's face were more pronounced； and darkened with the tan of camp life。 An air of resolution； of confidence in his own powers； appeared to emanate from his person。 Six months of intense life had transformed him。 He was the same but broader…chested and more stalwart。 The gentle and sweet features of his mother were lost under the virile mask。 。 。 。 Lacour recognized with pride that he now resembled himself。
After greetings had been exchanged； Rene paid more attention to Don Marcelo than to his father； because he reminded him of Chichi。 He inquired after her； wishing to know all the details of her life； in spite of their ardent and constant correspondence。
The senator； meanwhile； still under the influence of his recent emotion； had adopted a somewhat oratorical air toward his son。 He forthwith improvised a fragment of discourse in honor of that soldier of the Republic bearing the glorious name of Lacour； deeming this an opportune time to make known to these professional soldiers the lofty lineage of his family。
〃Do your duty； my son。 The Lacours inherit warrior traditions。 Remember our ancestor； the Deputy of the Convention who covered himself with glory in the defense of Mayence！〃
While he was discoursing； they had started forward； doubling a point of the greenwood in order to get behind the cannons。
Here the racket was less violent。 The great engines； after each discharge； were letting escape through the rear chambers little clouds of smoke like those from a pipe。 The sergeants were dictating numbers； communicated in a low voice by another gunner who had a telephone receiver at his ear。 The workmen around the cannon were obeying silently。 They would touch a little wheel and the monster would raise its grey snout； moving it from side to side with the intelligent expression and agility of an elephant's trunk。 At the foot of the nearest piece； stood the operator； rod in hand； and with impassive face。 He must be deaf； yet his facial inertia was stamped with a certain authority。 For him； life was no more than a series of shots and detonations。 He knew his importance。 He was the servant of the tempest； the guardian of the thunderbolt。
〃Fire！〃 shouted the sergeant。
And the thunder broke forth in fury。 Everything appeared to be trembling； but the two visitors were by this time so accustomed to the din that the present uproar seemed but a secondary affair。
Lacour was about to take up the thread of his discour