Burley, listening down by the corral, leaned against a post, one powerful hand across his eyes, his cap clasped in the other, and in his heart the birth of things ineffable.
For an hour the carillon played. Then old Bayard struck ten times. And Burley thought of the trenches and wondered whether the mellow thunder of the great bell was audible out there that night.
CHAPTER XVI
DJACK
There came a day when he did not see Maryette as he left for the corral in the morning.
Her father, very stiff with rheumatism, sat in the sun outside the arched entrance to the inn.
"No," he said, "she is going to be gone all day today. She has set and wound the drum in the belfry so that the carillon shall play every hour while she is absent."
"Where has she gone?" inquired Burley.
"To play the carillon at Nivelle."
"Nivelle!" he exclaimed sharply.