Maman handed over the newspaper from which she had just read aloud and
explained the passage so full of touching interest to them both, and
Jeanne, with help at the difficult places, read out:--

_"'CITATIONS À L'ORDRE DU JOUR._

_Jacques Martin, soldat au 170e d'infanterie, grenadier d'élite, au cours
des combats du 26 et du 27 novembre, 1916, a, par son mépris du danger et
par son ardeur, assuré la progression dans un boyau défendu pas à pas par
l'ennemi._

_Le soldat Jacques Martin est Monsieur l'abbé Martin, curé de ----.'_

"Oui, nous savons bien d'où il est curé!" cried Jeanne, in admiration and
awe. "C'est bien beau, hein, Maman?" Then suddenly she became silent and
thoughtful, remembering the subsequent fate of her friend and hero.

"Dire qu'il est maintenant prisonnier en Alle... en Bochie!" she said. They
had known long ago that he was mentioned in despatches, and they had been
on the look-out for the glorious details in print, but only this morning
had they heard of his capture.

How proud they were of their gentle curé and brave soldier! Jeanne had at
first been greatly perplexed by the strange dual personality, with its
incompatibilities, and many were the questions that had arisen in her
active little mind. "Le curé de Suzanne, c'est autre chose," she reflected,
for though technically a soldier was he not a _brancardier_ rescuing the
wounded? Her own practical conclusions, however, and the answers to her
questions smoothed away many difficulties, and perfect faith in her friend