nings, when we gathered around
the table. It was the same quiet interior, filled with the warmth of
affection. And while peace was there I heard behind me the roaring of
the escaped river, that was constantly rising.

"Louis," said my brother Pierre, "the water is within three feet of the
window. We ought to tell them."

I hushed him up by pressing his arm. But it was no longer possible to
hide the peril. In our barns the animals were killing each other. There
were bleatings and bellowings from the crazed herds; and the horses gave
the harsh cries that can be heard at great distances when they are in
danger of death.

"My God! My God!" cried Aimee, who stood up, pressing her hands to her
temples.

They all ran to the windows. There they remained, mute, their hair
rising with fear. A dim light floated above the yellow sheet of water.
The pale sky looked like a white cloth thrown over the earth. In the
distance trailed some smoke. Everything was misty. It was the terrified
end of a day melting into a night of death. And not a human sound,
nothing but the roaring of that sea stretching to infinity; nothing but
the bellowings and the neighings of the animals.

"My God! My God!" repeated the women, in low voices, as if they feared
to speak aloud.

A terrible cracking silenced the exclamations. The maddened animals had
burst open the doors of the stables. They passed in the yellow flood,
rolled about, carried away by the current. The sheep were tossed about
like dead leaves, whirling in bands in the eddies. The cows and the
horses struggled, tried to walk, and lost their footing. Our big gray
horse fought long for life. He stretched his neck, he reared, snorting
like a forge. But the enraged waters took him by the crupper, and we saw
him, beaten, abandon himself.

Then we gave way for the first time. We felt the need of tears. Our
hands stretched out to those dear animals that were being borne away, we
lamented, giving vent to the tears and the sobs that we had suppressed.
Ah! what ruin! The harvests destroyed, the cattle drowned, our fortunes
changed in a few hours! God was not just! We had done nothing against
Him, and He was taking everything from us! I shook my fist at the
horizon. I spoke of our walk that afternoon, of our meadows, our wheat
and vines that we had found so full of promise. It was all a lie,
then! The sun lied when he sank, so sweet and calm, in the midst of the
evening's serenity.

The water wa