is deserted! Most of the houses have been shot to pieces by the
artillery and if people are here we cannot find them. Because of that we
have taken shelter, for the present, in the church."

But John in his eagerness was already pushing open one of the huge
bronze doors, and Picard, brushing some of the snow from his clothes,
followed him. The door swung shut behind them both, and he stood beside
one of the pews staring into the dusky interior.

But his eyes became used to the gloom, and soon it did not seem so
somber as it was outside. Instead the light from the stained-glass
windows made the mists and shadows luminous. A nave, the lofty pillars
dividing it from the side aisles, the choir and the altar emerged slowly
into view. From the walls pictures of the Madonna and the saints,
unstained and untouched, looked down upon him. One of the candles near
the altar had been lighted, and it burned with a steady, beckoning
flame.

The cathedral, a great building for a small town, as happens so often in
Europe, presented a warm and cheerful interior to John. It seemed to him
soon after the huge bronze door sank into place behind him that war,
cold, desolation and loneliness were shut out. The luminous glow
streaming through the stained glass windows and the candle burning near
the altar were beacons.

Then he saw Julie, sitting wrapped in a heavy cloak, in one of the pews
before the choir, and the grim Suzanne, also shrouded in a heavy cloak,
sat beside her. John's heart was in a glow. He knew now that he loved
his comrade Philip's sister. Two or three of the golden curls escaping
from her hood, fell down her back, and they were twined about his heart.