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quick to get hold of their revolvers? Why
didn’t Anatole go and tell them?
“Why do you want them to fetch their
revolvers?” he heard a voice, his own voice,
say. “Do you think that Pierre had a
revolver to defend himself when they came
to kill him?”
Something sinister and evil flashed
suddenly through his unconscious brain like the
big shell that had passed him in the darkness
hurling death through the night. He felt
the same grip of unspeakable fear round his
throat, and with a violent effort he drew his
clenched hand from his pocket and sprang
out of the garden. As he opened the gate
the window was flung open and a rich and
melodious voice sang in the night Schubert’s
immortal serenade:
Leise flehen meine Lieder
Durch die Nacht zu dir,
In den stillen Hain hernieder,
Liebchen komm zu mir.
Flüsternd schlanke Wipfel rauschen
In des Mondes Licht, in des Mondes Licht.
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