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esent uproar seemed but a secondary affair。
Lacour was about to take up the thread of his discourse about his glorious forefather in the convention when something interfered。
〃They are firing；〃 said the man at the telephone simply。
The two officers repeated to the senator this news from the watch tower。 Had he not said that the enemy was going to fire？ 。 。 。 Obeying a sane instinct of preservation； and pushed at the same time by his son； he found himself in the refuge of the battery。 He certainly did not wish to hide himself in this cave； so he remained near the entrance； with a curiosity which got the best of his disquietude。
He felt the approach of the invisible projectile； in spite of the roar of the neighboring cannon。 He perceived with rare sensibility its passage through the air； above the other closer and more powerful sounds。 It was a squealing howl that was swelling in intensity； that was opening out as it advanced； filling all space。 Soon it ceased to be a shriek； becoming a rude roar formed by divers collisions and frictions； like the descent of an electric tram through a hillside road； or the course of a train which passes through a station without stopping。
He saw it approach in the form of a cloud； bulging as though it were going to explode over the battery。 Without knowing just how it happened； the senator suddenly found himself in the bottom of the shelter； his hands in cold contact with a heap of steel cylinders lined up like bottles。 They were projectiles。
〃If a German shell；〃 he thought； 〃should explode above this burrow 。 。 。 what a frightful blowing up！〃 。 。 。
But he calmed himself by reflecting on the solidity of the arched vault with its beams and sacks of earth several yards thick。 Suddenly he was in absolute darkness。 Another had sought refuge in the shelter； obstructing the light with his body； perhaps his friend Desnoyers。
A year passed by while his watch was registering a single second； then a century at the same rate 。 。 。 and finally the awaited thunder burst forth； making the refuge vibrate； but with a kind of dull elasticity； as though it were made of rubber。 In spite of its thud； the explosion wrought horrible damage。 Other minor explosions； playful and whistling； followed behind the first。 In his imagination； Lacour saw the cataclysma writhing serpent； vomiting sparks and smoke； a species of Wagnerian monster that upon striking the ground was disgorging thousands of fiery little snakes； that were covering the earth with their deadly contortions。 。 。 。 The shell must have burst nearby； perhaps in the very square occupied by this battery。
He came out of the shelter； expecting to encounter a sickening display of dismembered bodies； and he saw his son smiling； smoking a cigar and talking with Desnoyers。 。 。 。 That was a mere nothing！ The gunners were tranquilly finishing the charging of a huge piece。 They had raised their eyes for a moment as the enemy's shell went screaming by； and then had continued their work。
〃It must have fallen about three hundred yards away；〃 said Rene cheerfully。
The senator； impressionable soul； felt suddenly filled with heroic confidence。 It was not worth while to bother about his personal safety when other menjust like him； only differently dressedwere not paying the slightest attention to the danger。
And as the other projectiles soared over his head to lose themselves in the woods with the explosions of a volcano； he remained by his son's side； with no other sign of tension than a slight trembling of the knees。 It seemed to him now that it was only the French missilesbecause they were on his sidethat were hitting the bull's eye。 The others must be going up in the air and losing themselves in useless noise。 Of just such illusions is valor often compounded！ 。 。 。 〃And is that all？〃 his eyes seemed to be asking。
He now recalled rather shamefacedly his retreat to the shelter； he was beginning to feel that he could live in the open； the same as Rene。
The German missiles were getting considerably more frequent。 They were no longer lost in the wood； and their detonations were sounding nearer and nearer。 The two officials exchanged glances。 They were responsible for the safety of their distinguished charge。
〃Now they are warming up；〃 said one of them。
Rene； as though reading their thoughts； prepared to go。 〃Good…bye； father！〃 They were needing him in his battery。 The senator tried to resist； he wished to prolong the interview； but found that he was hitting against something hard and inflexible that repelled all his influence。 A senator amounted to very little with people accustomed to discipline。 〃Farewell； my boy！ 。 。 。 All success to you！ 。 。 。 Remember who you are！〃
The father wept as he embraced his son； lamenting the brevity of the interview； and thinking of the dangers awaiting him。
When Rene had disappeared； the captains again recommended their departure。 It was getting late； they ought to reach a certain cantonment before nightfall。 So they went down the hill in the shelter of a cut in the mountain； seeing the enemy's shells flying high above them。
In a hollow； they came upon several groups of the famed seventy… fives spread about through the woods； hidden by piles of underbrush； like snapping dogs； howling and sticking up their gray muzzles。 The great cannon were roaring only at intervals； while the steel pack of hounds were yelping incessantly without the slightest break in their noisy wrathlike the endless tearing of a piece of cloth。 The pieces were many； the volleys dizzying； and the shots uniting in one prolonged shriek； as a series of dots unite to form a single line。
The chiefs； stimulated by the din； were giving their orders in yells； and waving their arms from behind the pieces。 The cannon were sliding over the motionless gun carriages； advancing and receding like automatic pistols。 Each charge dropped an empty shell； and introduced a fresh one into the smoking chamber。
Behind the battery； the air was racking in furious waves。 With every shot； Lacour and his companion received a blow on the breast； the violent contact with an invisible hand； pushing them backward and forward。 They had to adjust their breathing to the rhythm of the concussions。 During the hundredth part of a second； between the passing of one aerial wave and the advance of the next； their chests felt the agony of vacuum。 Desnoyers admired the baying of those gray dogs。 He knew well their bite； extending across many kilometres。 Now they were fresh and at home in their own kennels。
To Lacour it seemed as though the rows of cannon were chanting a measure； monotonous and fiercely impassioned that must be the martial hymn of the humanity of prehistoric times。 This music of dry； deafening； delirious notes was awakening in the two what is sleeping in the depths of every soulthe savagery of a remote ancestry。 The air was hot with acrid odors； pungent and brutishly intoxicating。 The perfumes from the explosions were penetrating to the brain through the mouth； the eyes and the ears。
They began to be infected with the same ardor as the directors； shouting and swinging their arms in the midst of the th