The UniformsFor the fourth time there came a thunderous knocking on the door. Father and daughter looked at each other. She went to the window. The tramping in the street and the shouts intensified. So did the blows on the door. The man outside was trying to force it open; he despaired; he crept to the window, like the previous three. She saw his fingers hook round the faded bars; he pulled at them savagely but in vain. Without abandoning his efforts, he pressed his forehead against the window; just a hair’s breadth separated them; he was soaked in sweat, his chest was heaving from running; as they stared at each other, she read the supplication in his eyes.
“They’re going to kill me… Please, help!”
The girl stepped back. The old man took her place at the window.
“Be off, swine!” he sho
