“The water is rising; the water is rising!” repeated my brother Pierre, still crunching the stem of his pipe between his teeth. The water was within a yard of the roof. It was losing its tranquility; currents were being formed. In less than an hour the water became threatening, dashing against the house, bearing drifting barrels, pieces of wood, clumps of weeds. In the distance there were attacks upon walls, and we could hear the resounding shocks. Poplar trees fell, houses crumbled, like a cartload of stones emptied by the roadside. Jacques, unnerved by the sobs of the women, cried: “We can’t stay here. We must try something. Father, I beg of you, try to do something.” I stammered after him: “Yes, yes; let us try to do something.” And we knew of nothing. Gaspard offered to take Veronique on his back and swim with her to a place of safety. Pierre suggested a raft. Cyprien finally said: “If we could only reach the church!” Above the waters the church remained standing, with its little square steeple. We were separated from it by seven houses. Our farmhouse, the first of the village, adjoined a higher building, which, in turn, leaned against the next. Perhaps, by way of the roofs, we would be able to reach the parsonage. A number of people must have taken refuge there already, for the neighboring roofs were vacant, and we could hear voices that surely came from the steeple. But what dangers must be run to reach them! “It is impossible,” said Pierre. “The house of the Raimbeaus is too high; we would need ladders.” “I am going to try it,” said Cyprien. “I will return if the way is impracticable. Otherwise, we will all go and we will have to carry the girls.” I let him go. He was right. We had to try the impossible. He had succeeded, by the aid of an iron hook fixed in a chimney, in climbing to the next house, when his wife, Aimee, raising her head, noticed that he was no longer with us. She screamed: “Where is he? I don’t want him to leave me! We are together, we shall die together!” When she saw him on the top of the house she ran over the tiles, still holding her children. And she called out: “Cyprien, wait for me! I am going with you. I am going to die with you.” She persisted. He leaned over, pleading with her, promising to come back, telling her that he was going for the rescue of all of us. But, with a wild air, she shook her head, repeating “I am going with you! I am going with you!” He had to take the children. Then he helped her up. We could follow them along the crest of the house. They walked slowly. She had taken the children again, and at every step he turned and supported her. “Get her to a safe place, and return!” I shouted.