“Save the house!”
He hurried up the staircase. In passing he saw his mother sitting mute and tearless near his father, who lay on the sofa, whimpering.
Through a trap-door he jumped onto the roof.
“Give me the hose.”
On a pitchfork they handed him the metal point of the hose. The column of water fell hissing upon the hot bricks.
He sat astride on the ridge of the roof. His clothes became hot; glimmering sparks, which came flying from the barn, settled on his hair. Burning wounds covered his face and hands.
He felt nothing that happened to his person, but he saw and heard everything around him—his senses seemed doubled.
He saw how the sheaves flew up to the sky in fiery flames, and saw them sink down in a magnificent circle; he saw the horses and cows run out into the meadows, where they were safe between the fences; he saw the dog, half-singed, tearing at his chain.
“Unchain the dog,” he called down.
He saw little graceful flames, in bluish flickering light, dancing from the roof of the barn to the neighboring shed.