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.
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