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Fitzgerald, F. Scott (Francis Scott), 1896-1940

"Tales of the Jazz Age"


Before long the aim of the attackers became concentrated upon the
points where the anti-aircraft guns were situated, and one of them was
almost immediately reduced to a giant cinder to lie smouldering in a
park of rose bushes.
"Kismine," begged John, "you'll be glad when I tell you that this
attack came on the eve of my murder. If I hadn't heard that guard
shoot off his gun back by the pass I should now be stone dead---"
"I can't hear you!" cried Kismine, intent on the scene before her.
"You'll have to talk louder!"
"I simply said," shouted John, "that we'd better get out before they
begin to shell the chateau!"
Suddenly the whole portico of the negro quarters cracked asunder, a
geyser of flame shot up from under the colonnades, and great fragments
of jagged marble were hurled as far as the borders of the lake.
"There go fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves," cried Kismine, "at
pre-war prices. So few Americans have any respect for property."
John renewed his efforts to compel her to leave. The aim of the
aeroplanes was becoming more precise minute by minute, and only two of
the anti-aircraft guns were still retaliating. It was obvious that the
garrison, encircled with fire, could not hold out much longer.
"Come on!" cried John, pulling Kismine's arm, "we've got to go. Do you
realise that those aviators will kill you without question if they
find you?"
She consented reluctantly.


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