I looked up and saw he was all blackened with smoke and soot, except where the sweat had run down in white streaks. His face was close to mine.
“Come! Do you hear?” he said. “I don’t believe she’s hurt, but we must see. We’ll go across to the Danforths’. There is nothing to do here. I’ve got Julianna!”
Just as if the fire was answering him, there came a great ripping and roaring, as if something had given away and collapsed. A tower of flames shot up out of the roof—a sort of bud of flame that opened into a great flower with petals. It was horrible to see the shingles curl and fall in a blazing stream down onto the ground, as if they were drops of hot metal.
It stupefied me, perhaps; I cannot remember how we went to the neighbor’s house or who welcomed us or how we got into the room on the second floor, with a candle burning on the bureau. I noticed how small and ridiculous the flame was and laughed. Indeed, I think when I laughed, I woke up—really woke from my sleep for the first time.
“I went for a walk,” the Judge was saying. “I had a headache. I couldn’t sleep. I moved the lamp onto the card table. The curtain must have blown into it. We must thank God. We were lucky, very lucky!”
He was pacing up and down there like a caged animal.
“I’m thankful Eleanor, my wife, wasn’t at home,” he went on, talking very fast. “She has always been so delicate—had so much sorrow—so much trouble. A shock would kill her—a shock like that. My God, we were lucky!”
I got up and pushed the tangled hair back from my face.
“It’s all right,” he went on with a thick tongue. “Julianna is all right—the little rascal is smoky, but all right. Blow the candle out. It is getting light outside. It’s dawn.”
The child on the bed kicked its pink feet out from under its long dresses and gave one of those gurgles to show it was awake. The sound made me scream. I had just awakened from my stupidity.