ounded as if all the babies in the world were
playing with their rattles. Suddenly Madame Lelanne reappeared out of
the dust, and seizing Joan, dragged her through a dark opening and down a
flight of steps, and then left her. She was in a great vaulted cellar. A
faint light crept in through a grated window at the other end. There was
a long table against the wall, and in front of it a bench. She staggered
to it and sat down, leaning against the damp wall. The place was very
silent. Suddenly she began to laugh. She tried to stop herself, but
couldn't. And then she heard footsteps descending, and her memory came
back to her with a rush. 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.
Before evening the place, considering all things, was fairly habitable.
Madame Lelanne brought down the great stove from the hut; and breaking a
pane of glass in the barred window, they fixed it up with its chimney and
lighted it. From time to time the turmoil above them would break out
again: the rattling, and sometimes a dull rumbling as of rushing water.
But only a faint murmur of it penetrated into the cellar. Towards night
it became quiet again.

How long Joan remained there she was never quite sure. There was little
difference between day and night. After it had been quiet for an hour or
so, Mad