They were German footsteps, she felt sure by
the sound: they were so slow and heavy. They should not find her in
hysterics, anyhow. She fixed her teeth into the wooden table in front of
her and held on to it with clenched hands. She had recovered herself
before the footsteps had finished their descent. With a relief that made
it difficult for her not to begin laughing again, she found it was Madame
Lelanne and Monsieur Dubos. They were carrying something between them.
She hardly recognized Dubos at first. His beard was gone, and a line of
flaming scars had taken its place. They laid their burden on the table.
It was one of the wounded men from the hut. They told her they were
bringing down two more. The hut itself had not been hit, but the roof
had been torn off by the force of the explosion, and the others had been
killed by the falling beams. Joan wanted to return with them, but Madame
Lelanne had assumed an air of authority, and told her she would be more
useful where she was. From the top of the steps they threw down bundles
of straw, on which they laid the wounded men, and Joan tended them, while
Madame Lelanne and the little chemist went up and down continuously.
Pages:
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449