The splashes sprinkled a part of his trousers. Suddenly he kept quiet, cutting
at half the song. An unexpected fit of anger invested him. He up raised the look,
towards the windows of the palace, under which he was, and he exclaimed: "Who has
pulled the water?". He said this phrase at one go and in a loud voice. While
he scanned towards the top, he added then: "... so what? ", more and more angry.
Then he noticed a dark spot that was swooping down quickly on him from the high
and istinctively he took a step backward. A vase of flowers crashed in the precise
point where he was just a moment before, with an unexpected and spectacular
roar for that so silent place. Paul turned round at once and ran on the other side
of the road, far away from that palace and out of reach of a new launch. As he was
safe, he turned round again. He could not believe what he had happened. He could
remain seriously injured or even worse! A deep fury invaded him, he raised his
head and shouted at the top of his voice: "Baaaastaaards!", with all his might. He
perceived immediately a shooting pain at his calf and he fell to the ground. It was
an hard ache. He touched his trousers, behind and under his knee, where the pain
began and he felt wet, he withdrew his hand, looked at it and saw that it was
smeared with a red liquid. It seemed blood. There was a strange whistle, with a
crack, near his head and suddenly he understood: someone had shooted in his leg,
even better some bastard was still shooting at him and now he was taking aim at his
head! Probably he was shoting with an airgun. The anger was quickly replaced from
the fear, that is a truly strange feeling, because let you make things that you
would never believe you manage to make them. In a moment he was risen to his feet,
running and even he did not feel more the pain at the calf. He covered approximately
300 meters, turned right two times the corner and at the end he stopped, because
the pain was returned with an hard pang.
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