.."
"He has everything. Come along! Let's put everything of value into the
other car."
When they had finished the night air was clear of snowflakes; hill, road
and valley were lit by the pallor of the fallen snow.
Fanny followed Julien to the other car. He swung the handle and jumped
into the driving seat. "Come...." he said, and held out a hand.
"Good-night, Pichot. We'll send for you early in the morning."
"Good-night, _mon capitaine._ Good-night, mademoiselle."
They moved forward, and the moon like a wandering lamp lit their faces.
"Blow out, old moon!" said Julien, turning his silvered face and hair up
to the sky. The moon flew behind a cloud.
"Quick!" he said.
"What?"
... and kissed her. The jacks and tyres and wheels and bolts fluttered
out of Fanny's head like black ravens and disappeared. They flew on,
over the bridge at Pont-a-Moussons, up the shining ruinous street.
"Crouch lower!" said Julien. "If any one wanted to, they could count
your eyelashes from the windows."
"Ah, yes, if there was any one to count...." She glanced up at the
fragmentary pronged chimneys, the dark, unstirring caves of brick.
Soon the church clocks of Metz rang out, quarrelling, out of time with
one another.
"Do you know this isn't going to last?" said Julien suddenly, as if the
clocks had reminded him.
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