Fortunately, the roof was vast and sloped gently. We reached it through
a lid-like window, above which was a sort of platform. It was there
that we took refuge. The women seated themselves. The men went over the
tiles to reconnoitre. From my post against the dormer window through
which we had climbed, I examined the four points of the horizon.
“Help cannot fail to arrive,” I said, bravely. “The people of Saintin
have boats; they will come this way. Look over there! Isn’t that a
lantern on the water?”
But no one answered me. Pierre had lighted his pipe, and he was smoking
so furiously that, at each puff, he spit out pieces of the stem.
Jacques and Cyprien looked into the distance, with drawn faces; while
Gaspard, clenching his fists, continued to walk about, seeking an
issue. At our feet the women, silent and shivering, hid their faces to
shut out the sight. Yet Rose raised her head, glanced about her and
demanded:
“And the servants? Where are they? Why, aren’t they here?”