Viewing page 105 of 150

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

-I02-

Soon from the music-room rose clear, high notes bringing celestial irreality to the nightmare elements raging about
us. Others passed by: a huge blond Colonel with his great
Dane dog; then a dignified little man, a General, who was apparently taking leave of his Ally hostess. This General suddenly broke off conversing to receive a message brought to
him in the garden by his chauffeur. He returned visibly perturbed, but without haste he continue his courteous leave-taking during which an anxious chauffeur kept looking in at
the window of the room where we were seated. Finally with
much dignity the General walked down the garden path, quickened his steps near the gate and then with alacrity jumped
into a car which sped like lightning down the hill.
'Come down to the cave, the bridges are to be blown up'
someone whispered in my ear. I was standing by a tall window
and about to grab my bag from the ledge when a violent concussion burst open the window, the air pressure all but knocking me down. Had the window been fastened I should have received the shattered glass full in my face.
We passed the rest of the night all huddled together in
the cellar and my anguished neighbours became hysterical
with each successive detonation, caused by the destruction of their beloved bridges. To the very last the Germans had held out hopes that the disaster might be averted. It depended, they said on the English agreeing to treat Florence