He ground his teeth and
clenched his fists at every detonation, but stood stock-still with no
desire to leave, dominated by the violence of the explosions, admiring
the serenity of these men who were giving orders, erect and coolly, or
moving like humble menials around their roaring metal beasts.
All his ideas seemed to have been snatched away by that first discharge
of cannon. His brain was living in the present moment only. He turned
his eyes insistently toward the white and red banner which was waving
from the mansion.
"That is treachery," he thought, "a breach of faith."
Far away, on the other side of the Marne, the French artillery were
belching forth their deadly fire. He could imagine their handiwork
from the little yellowish clouds that were floating in the air, and
the columns of smoke which were spouting forth at various points of
the landscape where the German troops were hidden, forming a line which
appeared to lose itself in infinity. An atmosphere of protection and
respect seemed to be enveloping the castle.
The morning mists had dissolved; the sun was finally showing its bright
and limpid light, lengthening the shadows of men and trees to fantastic
dimensions. Hills and woods came forth from the haze, fresh and dripping
after their morning bath. The entire valley was now completely exposed,
and Desnoyers was surprised to see the river from the spot to which he
had been rooted--the cannon having opened great windows in the woods
that had hid it from view.
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