ace, as another shell
might follow, the enemy having seen, from the falling masonry, how
efficacious the last had been. So, feeling somewhat dazed, but really
not alarmed, as the whole thing had been too quick for fear, I groped my
way downstairs. Outside we were surrounded by more frightened people,
whom we quickly reassured. The woman cook, who had been sitting in her
bomb-proof, was quite sure _she_ had been struck, and was calling loudly
for brandy; while the rest of us got some soda-water to wash out our
throats--a necessary precaution as far as I was concerned, as mine had
only the day previously been lanced for quinsy. By degrees the cloud of
dust subsided, and then in the fading light we saw what an extraordinary
escape we had had. The shell had entered the front wall of the convent,
travelled between the iron roof and the ceiling of the rooms, till it
reached a wall about 4 feet from where we were sitting. Against this it
had exploded, making a huge hole in the outside wall and in the other
which separated our passage from a little private chapel. In this chapel
it had also demolished all the sacred images. It was not, however, till
next day, when we returned to examine the scene of the explosion, that
we realized how narrowly we had escaped death or terrible injuries.
Three people had been occupying an area of not more than 5 feet square;
between us was a tiny card-table laid with our supper, and on this the
principal quantity of the masonry had fallen--certainly 2 tons of red
brick and mortar--shattering it to atoms. If our chairs had been drawn
up to the table, we should probably have been buried beneath this mass.
But our most sensational discovery was the fact that two enormous pieces
of shell, weighing certainly 15 pounds each, were found touching the
legs of my chair, and the smallest tap from one of these would have
prevented our ever seeing another sunrise. Needless to say, we left our
ruined quarters that evening, and I reposed more peacefully in my
bomb-proof than I had done for many nights past. The air at the convent
had accomplished its healing work. We were both practically recovered,
and we had had a hairbreadth escape; but I was firmly convinced that an
underground chamber is preferable to a two-storied mansion when a 6-inch
100-pound shell gun, at a distance of two miles, is bombarding the town
you happen to be residing in.

CHAPTER XII

LIFE IN A BESIEGED TOWN (_continued_)