Jean Francois Millet The Angelus

Jean Francois Millet The AngelusJean Francois Millet AngelusJean Francois Millet Harvesters RestingJean Francois Millet GardenHerbert James Draper Ulysses and the Sirens
It wobbled,’ said the Dean .
. . .whumm . . . whumm . . .
The wizards stared at one another in sudden panic . . .
‘What’s happening? What’s happening?’ said Windle Poons. ‘Why won’t anyone, mm, tell me what’s happening?’
. . . whumm The second pellet knocked the tip off his hat.
The wizards lay trembling on the flagstones for several minutes. After a while the Dean’s muffled voice, ‘Was that all, do you think?’ . . . whumm . . . ‘Run!’ suggested the Dean. ‘Which way?’ quavered the Bursar. . . . whummWHUMM . . . ‘I’m an old man and I demand someone tell me what’s–’ Silence. ‘Duck!’ shouted the Archchancellor. Plib. A splinter of stone was knocked off the pillar behind him. He raised his head. ‘Bigods, that was a damn lucky es–’ Plib.