There were no stars, no lights ashore. On his left he could hear the unbroken trample of cavalry riding north; far beyond, the air was heavily unsteady with the dull rumor beyond the hills; behind him the shriller tumult had died away and the deadened booming of the guns sounded like the heavy thunder of surf on sand.
Philippa had risen to a sitting position, and now she was lying back comfortably extended among the cushions.
They exchanged a few words; her voice was calm, cheerful, untroubled. She offered to take the punt pole; said that at first she had felt more bewildered and dazed than frightened; explained that real fear had first possessed her when the dead and bloody swan floated past, and that then she had been horribly afraid of the sky noises—the shrieking, hooting, whistling approach of the unseen.
He had been under fire in the Balkans; Lule Bourgas had blunted for him the keener edge of terror. And now, still thoroughly stirred, only the excitement of the past hour remained and stimulated him.
"It's war all around us now," he said, driving his punting pole steadily and straining his keen eyes into the shadows beyond. "There are stirring days ahead for France in this region, I fear; the Barrier Forts are far away and there is nothing in the north to hold the deluge breaking over Luxembourg into Belgium.
"A great war is beginning, Philippa; the greatest that the earth has ever faced.... I never supposed that I should live to see such a war—the greatest of all wars—the last great war, I think.
"If I were anything except a useless painter, I'd go into it.... I don't know what good I'd be to anybody. But if anybody wants me——"
"We both can offer ourselves," said Philippa.
"Dear child! I'd like to catch you wandering into this sort of——"
"I shall volunteer if you do!"