As it was,
a few passers-by did fall, wounded by balls from unknown sources.
Argensola would tear from street to street following the evolutions of
the inimical bird, trying to guess where its projectiles would fall,
anxious to be the first to reach the bombarded house, excited by the
shots that were answering from below. And to think that he had no gun
like those khaki-clad Englishmen or those Belgians in barrick cap, with
tassel over the front! . . . Finally the taube tired of manoeuvering,
would disappear. "Until to-morrow!" ejaculated the Spaniard. "Perhaps
to-morrow's show may be even more interesting!"
He employed his free hours between his geographical observations and his
aerial contemplations in making the rounds of the stations, watching the
crowds of travellers making their escape from Paris. The sudden vision
of the truth--after the illusion which the Government had been creating
with its optimistic dispatches, the certainty that the Germans were
actually near when a week before they had imagined them completely
routed, the taubes flying over Paris, the mysterious threat of the
Zeppelins--all these dangerous signs were filling a part of the
community with frenzied desperation. The railroad stations, guarded
by the soldiery, were only admitting those who had secured tickets in
advance. Some had been waiting entire days for their turn to depart.
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