The joy of the people of Rheims was short-lived. The Germans had been
driven out, it is true, but they had gone only a short distance to the
east, and there, upon the banks of the Aisne, had securely entrenched
themselves, venting their rage upon the City by daily bombardments.
From ten until two nearly every day the inhabitants of the stricken
City for the most part sat in their cellars listening to the whistling
of shells and the crash of falling timbers and tiles. When the noise
ceased, they returned to the light and air once more and looked about
to see the extent of the damage done. Dur ing the rest of the day they
went about their routine as usual, hoping against hope that the French
Armies, which were now between Rheims and the enemy, would be able not
only to defend the City but to drive the Germans still farther toward
the Rhine.
When the Twins reached the Cathedral the morning after the return of
the French troops, they found their Father resting after an operation
which had removed from his leg a piece of shell, which had nearly cost
his life and would make him permanently lame. Their Mother met them as
they came in. She was pale but smiling. "What a joy to see you!" she
cried, as she pressed them to her breast. "You may take one look at
your Father and throw him a kiss; then you must go back to Madame
Coudert."
"Mayn't we stay with you and help take care of Father?" begged Pierre.
"No," answered his Mother firmly, "the sights here are not for young
eyes. I can wait upon the nurses and keep things clean: My place is
here for the present, but tomorrow, if all goes well, we will sleep
once more in our own little home, if it is still standing. In the mean
time, be good children, and mind Madame Coudert. Now run along before
the shells begin to fall."
The Twins obediently trotted away, and regained the little shop just as
the clock struck ten. The day seemed long to them, for their thoughts
were with their parents, but Madame Coudert was so cheerful herself;
and kept them so busy they had no time to mope. Pierrette helped make
the little cakes, and Pierre scraped the remains of the icing from the
mixing-bowl and ate it lest any be wasted. In some ways Pierre was a
very thrifty boy. Then, too, Madame Coudert allowed them to stand
behind the counter and help wait upon the customers. Moreover, there
was Fifine, the cat, for Pierrette to play with, and the little
raveled-out dog lived only two doors below; so they did not lack for
entertainment.
The next evening their Mother called for them, as she had promised to
do, and they once more had supper and slept beneath their own roof. For
three days they followed this routine, going with their Mother to
Madame Coudert's, where they spent the day, returning at night. On the
fourth day they were again allowed to visit the Cathedral and to see
their Father. "It will do him good to be with his children," the doctor
had said, and so, while Mother Meraut attended to her duties, Pierre
and Pierrette sat on each side of the straw bed where he lay, proud and
responsible to be left in charge of the patient.
Pierre was bursting with curiosity to know about the Battle of the
Marne. Not another boy of his acquaintance had a wounded father, and
though his opportunities for seeing his friends had been few, he had
already done a good deal of boasting; and was pointed out by other boys
on the street as a person of special distinction. "Tell me about the
battle, Father," he begged.
His Father lifted his tired eyes to a statue of Jeanne d'Arc, which was
in plain sight from where he lay. "Well, my boy," he said after a
pause, "there is much I should not wish you to know, but this I will
tell you. On the day the battle turned, the watchword of the Army was
Jeanne d'Arc. Our soldiers sprang to the attack with her name upon
their lips, and some have sworn to me that they saw her ride before us
into battle on her white charger, carrying in her hand the very banner
which you see there upon the altar. I do not know whether or not it is
true, but certainly the victory was with us, and I for my part find it
easy to be lieve that our blessed Saint Jeanne has not forgotten
France." He raised himself a little on his elbow and pointed to a place
not far distant in the nave. "There," he said, "is the very spot upon
which she knelt while her king was being crowned here in our Cathedral
after she had driven our enemies from French soil and had given him his
throne! The happiest moments of her life were here! What place should
be revisited by her pure spirit if not Rheims? My children, I wish you
every day to pray that she may come again to deliver France!" Exhausted
by emotion and by the effort he had made, he sank back upon the straw
and closed his eyes.
Pierrette took his hand. "Dear papa," she said, "every day we will pray
to her as you say, and give thanks to the Bon Dieu that your life has
been spared to us. If only your poor leg--" she stopped, overcome by
tears.
Her Father opened his eyes and smiled. "Ah, little one, what is a leg
more or less;--or a life either for that matter,--when our France is in
danger?" he said. "Is it not so, Pierre?"
Pierre gulped. "France can have all of my legs!" he cried, in a burst
of patriotism. "And when I'm big enough, I'm going to dig a hole in the
ground and put in millions of tons of dynamite and blow up the whole of
Germany! That's what I'm going to do!"
His Father's eyes twinkled. "It seems a long while to wait," he said,
"because now you are only nine, you see."
Just then their Mother came toward the little group. "Magpies!" she
cried, "it seems that you are talking my patient to death. Run along
now to Madame Coudert." At the Cathedral entrance she kissed them, and
then stood for a moment to watch them as they hurried down the street
out of sight.