They all ran to the windows. There they remained, mute, their hair rising
with fear. A dim light floated above the yellow sheet of water. The pale sky
looked like a white cloth thrown over the earth. In the distance trailed some
smoke. Everything was misty. It was the terrified end of a day melting into a
night of death. And not a human sound, nothing but the roaring of that sea
stretching to infinity; nothing but the bellowings and the neighings of the
animals.

"My God! My God!" repeated the women, in low voices, as if they feared to
speak aloud.

A terrible cracking silenced the exclamations. The maddened animals had
burst open the doors of the stables. They passed in the yellow flood, rolled
about, carried away by the current. The sheep were tossed about like dead
leaves, whirling in bands in the eddies. The cows and the horses struggled,
tried to walk, and lost their footing. Our big gray horse fought long for
life. He stretched his neck, he reared, snorting like a forge. But the enraged
waters took him by the crupper, and we saw him, beaten, abandon himself.

Then we gave way for the first time. We felt the need of tears. Our hands
stretched out to those dear animals that were being borne away, we lamented,
giving vent to the tears and the sobs that we had suppressed. Ah! what ruin!
The harvests destroyed, the cattle drowned, our fortunes changed in a few
hours! God was not just! We had done nothing against Him, and He was taking
everything from us! I shook my fist at the horizon. I spoke of our walk that
afternoon, of our meadows, our wheat and vines that we had found so full of
promise. It was all a lie, then! The sun lied when he sank, so sweet and
calm, in the midst of the evening's serenity.