At that moment the noise of the firing became louder.  The Germans had no doubt just made a night attack either on Bixschoote or on Steenstraate, and now every piece was firing rapidly all along the line.  So fast did the reports follow one another that they sounded like a continuous growl.  However, the noise seemed to be dominated by the reports that came from a battery of heavy guns ("long 120’s”) two kilometres from Elverdinghe, which made all the windows of the convent rattle, I shuddered as I thought of those thousands of shells, hurtling through the darkness for miles to reduce so many living human beings to poor broken and bleeding things.  And I pictured to myself our Prussians of Bixschoote sprawling on the ground, with their teeth set and their heads hidden among the beetroot, waiting until the hurricane had passed, to get up again and rush forward with their bayonets, cheering!  Sister Gabrielle had the same thought, no doubt.  She looked still whiter than before under her white coif, and clasping her hands and lowering her eyes, she said in a low voice: 

“Mon Dieu, ...  Mon Dieu! ...  It is horrible!”

“Sister Gabrielle,” continued the incorrigible B., “don’t let us talk of such things.  Let us rather discuss this omelette, a dish worthy of the gods, and the bacon in it, the savour of which might imperil a saint.  Sister Gabrielle, you tempt us this evening to commit the sin of gluttony, which is the most venial of all sins.  And I will bear the burden of it manfully.”

I kicked B. under the table, to stop his incongruous remarks.  But Sister Gabrielle seemed not to have listened to him.  She went on serving us smilingly; changed our plates, and brought us ham and cheese.  B. went on devouring everything that was put before him; but this did not put a stop to his divagations.

“Tell me, Sister Gabrielle, you are not going to turn us out of the house now, are you?  It would be an offence against God, who commands us to pity travellers.  And we are poor wretched travellers.  If you drive us away, we shall have to sleep on the grass by the roadside, with stones for our pillows.  No, you couldn’t treat us so cruelly.  I feel sure that in a few minutes you will show me the bed in the dormitory you will keep for me when I come to take up my quarters with you after the war.”

Sister Gabrielle’s smile had disappeared.  For the first time, she seemed really distressed.  She stopped in front of B., and looked at him with her large clear eyes.  She made the same gesture as before; lifted up both her hands, in token of powerlessness, and seemed to be thinking how she could avoid hurting our feelings.  Then she said, in a disheartened tone: 

“But we have not a single spare bed.”