The journalist seemed to take a lively interest in this conversation which he had started, but he instinctively turned his eyes to the windows every time a shell burst, for now explosions far and near, the screeching of shells and the falling of walls indicated clearly that we were the center of a bombardment. At each explosion the doctor looked at the adjutant-major, who kept on eating quietly, as if to say, “Are you going to stay here much longer?” The explosions came nearer and all around us. We could see plainly the bits of steel which whistled by the windows, grazing the walls which they destroyed. We could hear the plaster falling down the staircase. As the servant brought the desserts—a Camembert, crackers, fruit, and white wine—a violent explosion of a new arrival nearby tore the window, stuffed with paper, from its hinges and the draught of air half overturned the orderly who let the platter fall on the table, to the great damage of the tablecloth where the white wine ran out.... “_Bigre!_” said the major. “I think it’s time to get into the cellar.” The engineer was only waiting for this invitation to stop the conversation and was half out of his chair when the major took his arm and sat him down again. “In short, Portugal owed its title of Historical Conquistador to its navy.” And he began to relate the records of that valorous nation on the sea from the time these people on the Tagus served in the Carthaginian triremes to Vasco da Gama, Magellan, Cabral, Bartholomew Diaz. Never was conversation more polished, imaginative, and undisturbed. A terrific explosion shook the house; part of the roof rolled down the staircase; the cook and the waiter jumped into the hall. “Well, what is it?” “Major, it fell in the garden, ten feet from the kitchen.” “The gentlemen are waiting for their coffee. Bring it.” The doctor could stand no more, alleged that perhaps there were wounded waiting for him at the dressing station, and asked permission to withdraw. The servants brought in the boiling coffee in a hurry, and he got up to go, as the commander said: “We’ll go along with you. We’ll see whether the shells have done much damage in the cantonment.” “But, Commander, do you think it’s prudent to venture out in the streets just now?” “It’s my opinion, gentlemen, that the Germans, who obviously wanted to furnish the music for our meal, should know that we’ve finished”—and he lighted his cigar and went out on the steps. The neighborhood was badly shattered indeed. Large holes blocked the street; the artillery observatory had been hit by a well-aimed shell, had fallen on a shed and crushed it. Immense craters had appeared here and there in the garden and the whole front of the house was splashed with steel. The enemy’s fire was letting up; it had almost ceased. Heads now appeared at the air-holes of the cellars trying to see what had happened.