“As we went there today with uncle, mother,” continued, in a singsong tone, the little girl, who had become talkative, “there was such a b⁠—i⁠—g cannonball inside the room, close to the cupboard. A’spose it had smashed in through the passage, and right into the room, such a big one⁠—you couldn’t lift it.”

“Those who had husbands and money all moved away,” said the old woman, “and there’s the hut, all that was left me, and that’s been smashed. Just look at him blazing away! The fiend!⁠ ⁠… O Lord, O Lord!”

“And just as we were going out, comes a bomb fly⁠—ing, and goes and bur⁠—sts and co⁠—o⁠—vers us with dust. A bit of it nearly hit me and uncle.”

More and more wounded, carried on stretchers, or walking supported by others and talking loudly, passed Prince Gáltsin.