I hear it. No. No. Now I don't hear a sound. Oh, God, give me the power to hear!
He tries again to catch the fleeting sounds, his head bent, his neck outstretched. His hair is disheveled. His eyes stare. Suddenly, by a great effort, he hears the tolling of the bells and voices full of despair. He retreats and raises his hands again.
My God! They are tolling! They are crying! War! What war? What war? Eh, who is there—who is shouting "War!"?
The sound of the bells and the cries grows louder. Emil Grelieu appears, walking quickly in the alley.
EMIL GRELIEU
What are you shouting, François? Where is Maurice? No one is in the house.
FRANÇOIS
Is it war?
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes, yes, it is war. The Prussians have entered Belgium. But you don't hear anything.