as accepting their observations with corresponding gravity while
his eyes roved from side to side in the hope of recognizing his son.
The interesting thing for him was to see Rene . . . but recollecting the
official pretext of his journey, he followed submissively from cannon to
cannon, listening patiently to all explanations.

The operators next showed him the servants of these pieces, great oval
cylinders extracted from subterranean storehouses called shelters. These
storage places were deep burrows, oblique wells reinforced with sacks of
stones and wood. They served as a refuge to those off duty, and kept
the munitions away from the enemy's shell. An artilleryman exhibited two
pouches of white cloth, joined together and very full. They looked like
a double sausage and were the charge for one of the large cannons. The
open packet showed some rose-colored leaves, and the senator greatly
admired this dainty paste which looked like an article for the dressing
table instead of one of the most terrible explosives of modern warfare.

"I am sure," said Lacour, "that if I had found one of these delicate
packets on the street, I should have thought that it had been dropped
from some lady's vanity bag, or by some careless clerk from a perfumery
shop . . . anything but an explosive! And with this trifle that looks as
if it were made for the lips, it is possible to blow up an
edifice!" . . .

As they continued their visit of investigation, they came upon a
partially destroyed round tower in the highest part of the mountain.
This was the most dangerous post. From it, an officer was examining
the enemy's line in order to gauge the correctness of the aim of the
gunners. While his comrades were under the ground or hidden by the
branches, he was fulfilling his mission from this visible point.

A short distance from the tower a subterranean passageway opened before
their eyes. They descended through its murky recesses until they found
the various rooms excavated in the ground. One side of the mountain cut
in points formed its exterior facade. Narrow little windows, cut in the
stone, gave light and air to these quarters.

An old commandant in charge of the section came out to meet them.
Desnoyers thought that he must be the floorwalker of some big department
store in Paris. His manners were so exquisite and his voice so suave
that he seemed to be imploring pardon at every word, or addressing a
group of ladies, offering them goods of