Boom! Again that low, long sound, rumbling and grumbling and dying away.
"It is nearer," breathed Louise. And even while she said it the sound was repeated, and it was nearer indeed and deeper, and the windows shook. Mireille sat up with wide, shining eyes.
"Is that a thunderstorm?... Or the Germans?"
"It is our guns firing to keep the Germans away," said Louise, bending over her and kissing her. "Try to sleep for an hour, my darling."
Mireille lay back with her silken hair tossed on the pillow.
"Are the Germans trying to come here?" she asked.
There was silence. Then Chérie said, "I don't think so," and Louise added, "Of course not."
"But—might they want to come?" insisted Mireille, blinking to keep her eyes open.
"Why should they come here?" said her mother. "What would they want in this little out-of-the-way village?"
"What indeed?" said Chérie.