Part 40 (1/2)

”They are piling all the furniture they can get against the gate in the park wall,” said Jack; ”come out to the kitchen-garden.”

She went with him, still holding to his arm. Across the vegetable garden a barricade of furniture--sofas, chairs, and wardrobes--lay piled against the wooden gate of the high stone wall. Engineers were piercing the wall with crowbars and pickaxes, loosening the cement, dragging out huge blocks of stone to make embrasures for three cannon that stood with their limbers among the broken bell-gla.s.ses and cuc.u.mber-frames in the garden.

A ladder lay against the wall, and on it was perched an officer, who rested his field-gla.s.ses across the tiled top and stood studying the woods. Below him a general and half a dozen officers watched the engineers hacking at the wall; a long, double line of infantry crouched behind them, the bugler kneeling, glancing anxiously at his captain, who stood talking to a fat sub-officer in capote and boots.

Artillerymen were gathered about the ammunition-chests, opening the lids and carrying sh.e.l.l and shrapnel to the wall; the balconies of the Chateau were piled up with breastworks of rugs, boxes, and sacks of earth. Here and there a rifleman stood, his cha.s.sepot resting on the iron railing, his face turned towards the woods.

”They are coming,” said a soldier, calling back to a comrade, who only laughed and pa.s.sed on towards the kitchen, loaded down with sacks of flour.

A restless movement pa.s.sed through the kneeling battalion of infantry.

”Fiche moi la paix, hein!” muttered a lieutenant, looking resentfully at a gossiping farrier. Another lieutenant drew his sword, and wiped it on the sleeve of his jacket.

”Are they coming?” asked Lorraine.

”I don't know. Watch that officer on the wall. He seems to see nothing yet. Don't you think you had better go to the rear of the house now?”

”No, not unless you do.”

”I will, then.”

”No, stay here. I am not afraid. Where is Alixe?”

”With the wounded men in the stable. They have hoisted the red cross over the barn; did you notice?”

Before she could answer, one of the soldiers on the balcony of the Chateau fired. Another rose from behind a mattress and fired also; then half a dozen shots rang out, and the smoke whirled up over the roof of the house. The officer on the ladder was motioning to the group of officers below; already the artillerymen were running the three cannon forward to the port-holes that had been pierced in the park wall.

”Come,” said Jack.

”Not yet--I am not frightened.”

A loud explosion enveloped the wall in sulphurous clouds, and a cannon jumped back in recoil. The cannoneers swarmed around it, there was a quick movement of a sponger, an order, a falling into place of rigid artillerymen, then bang! and another up-rush of smoke. And now the other cannon joined in--cras.h.!.+ bang!--and the garden swam in the swirling fog. Infantry, too, were firing all along the wall, and on the other side of the house the rippling crash of the gatling-gun rolled with the rolling volleys. Jack led Lorraine to the rear of the Chateau, but she refused to stay, and he reluctantly followed her into the house.

From every mattress-stuffed window the red-legged soldiers were firing out across the lawn towards the woods; the smoke drifted back into the house in thin shreds that soon filled the rooms with a blue haze.

Suddenly something struck the chandelier and shattered it to the gilt candle-sockets. Lorraine looked at it, startled, but another bullet whizzed into the room, starring the long mirror, and another knocked the plaster from the fireplace. Jack had her out of the room in a second, and presently they found themselves in the cellar, the very cement beneath their feet shaking under the tremendous shocks of the cannon.

”Wait for me. Do you promise, Lorraine?”

”Yes.”

He hurried up to the terrace again, and out across the gravel drive to the stable.

”Alixe!” he called.

She came quietly to him, her arms full of linen bandages. There was nothing of fear or terror in her cheeks, nothing even of grief now, but her eyes transfigured her face, and he scarcely knew it.

”What can I do?” he asked.

”Nothing. The wounded are quiet. Is there water in the well?”