fatigue, did not get up that afternoon. Simon also threw himself on
his bed, fully dressed, and slept until evening. But at nine o'clock
a shock awakened them.

Simon thought that the window, which suddenly burst open, had given
away under the pressure of the wind. A second shock, more plainly
defined, brought down the door of his room; and he felt himself
spinning on his own axis, with the walls circling round him.

He ran downstairs and found his father in the garden with the
servants, one and all bewildered and uttering incoherent phrases.
After a long pause, during which some tried to escape while others
were on their knees, there was a violent downpour of rain, mingled
with hail, which drove them indoors.

At ten o'clock they sat down to supper. M. Dubosc did not speak a
word. The servants were livid and trembling. Simon retained in the
depths of his horrified mind an uncanny impression of a shuddering
world.

At ten minutes to eleven there was another vibration, of no great
violence, but prolonged, with beats that followed one another very
closely, like a peal of bells. The china plates fell from the walls;
the clock stopped.

All the inmates of the house went out of doors again and crowded into
a little thatched summer-house lashed by slanting rain.

Half-an-hour later, the tremors recommenced and from this time
onwards, were so to speak, incessant. They were faint and remote at
first, but soon grew more and more perceptible, like the shivers of
fever which rise from the depths of our flesh and shake us from head
to foot.

This ended by becoming a torture. Two of the maids were sobbing. M.
Dubosc had flung an arm about Simon's neck and was stammering
terrified and meaningless words. Simon himself could no longer endure
this execrable sensation of earthquake, this vertigo of the human
being losing his foothold. He felt that he was living in a disjointed
world and that his mind was registering absurd and grotesque
impressions.

From the town arose an uninterrupted clamour. The road was crowded
with people fleeing to the heights. A church-bell filled the air with
the doleful sound of the tocsin, while the clocks were striking the
twelve hours of midnight.

"Let us go away! Let us go away!" cried M. Dubosc.

Simon protested:

"Come, father, there's no need for that! What have we to fear?"

But one and all were seized with panic. Everybody acted at random,
making unconscious movements, like a crazy p