For the first
time in my life a frantic spasm of terror came over me. I had
seen ten thousand men in every conceivable degree of mutilation
stretched upon the ground, but the sight had never affected me
like those two silent figures who were my companions in that
shadowy room. I rushed into the street as the Spaniard had done,
eager only to leave that house of gloom behind me, and I had run
as far as the cathedral before my wits came back to me.
There I stopped, panting, in the shadow, and, my hand pressed to
my side, I tried to collect my scattered senses and to plan out
what I should do. As I stood there, breathless, the great brass
bells roared twice above my head. It was two o'clock. Four was
the hour when the storming-party would be in its place. I had
still two hours in which to act.
The cathedral was brilliantly lit within, and a number of people
were passing in and out; so I entered, thinking that I was less
likely to be accosted there, and that I might have quiet to form
my plans. It was certainly a singular sight, for the place had
been turned into an hospital, a refuge, and a store-house.
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