Some of the planks were missing, and moving
carefully around the crater she heard others tip and groan beneath her.
"Could that have been a convoy caught by the mine? Or was it a dumping
ground for the cars unable to follow in the retreat?"
The mine crater, which was big enough to hold a small villa, was
overgrown now at the bottom with a little grass and moss.
On and on and on--till she fancied the moon, too, had turned as the sun
had done, and started a downward course. It grew no colder, she grew no
hungrier--but losing count of time, slipped on between the flying tree
trunks, full of unwearied content. At last a light shone through the
trees, and by a wooden bridge which led over another crater she came on
a lonely house. "Cafe" was written on the door, but the shutters were
tight shut, and only a line of light shone from a crack.
From within came sounds of laughter and men's voices. She knocked, and
there was an instant silence, but no one came to answer. At length the
bolts were withdrawn and the head of an old woman appeared through the
door, which was cautiously opened a little.
"An omelette? Coffee?"
"You don't know what you speak of! We have no eggs."
"Then coffee?"
"No, no, nothing at all. Go on to Charleville. We have nothing."
"How far is Charleville?"
But the door shut again, the bolts were shot, and a man's voice growled
in the hidden room behind.
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