Father, it seems to me I hear voices. Listen—it sounds as though they are crying there. Many, many people. Father, the Prussians are crying. It is they!
A distant, dull roaring of a crowd is heard. Then the crash of shots resounds. Sobs of military horns. The searchlights are swaying from side to side.
EMIL GRELIEU
It is they.
DOCTOR
If we don't start in a quarter of an hour—
EMIL GRELIEU
In half an hour, Doctor.
MAURICE
Father, how beautiful and how terrible it is! Give me your hand, mother.