On seeing him smile, Dominique added:
"I am a foreigner, but I can put a ball in an apple at five hundred
meters. There is my hunting gun behind you."
"You may have use for it," responded the captain dryly.
Francoise had approached, somewhat agitated. Without heeding the
strangers present Dominique took and grasped in his the two hands she
extended to him, as if to put herself under his protection. The captain
smiled again but said not a word. He remained seated, his sword across
his knees and his eyes plunged into space, lost in a reverie.
It was already ten o'clock. The heat had become very great. A heavy
silence prevailed. In the courtyard, in the shadows of the sheds, the
soldiers had begun to eat their soup. Not a sound came from the village;
all its inhabitants had barricaded the doors and windows of their
houses. A dog, alone upon the highway, howled. From the neighboring
forests and meadows, swooning in the heat, came a prolonged and distant
voice made up of all the scattered breaths. A cuckoo sang. Then the
silence grew more intense.
Suddenly in that slumbering air a shot was heard. The captain leaped
briskly to his feet; the soldiers left their plates of soup, yet half
full.
Pages:
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787