"Everything looks just the same as it did yesterday," said
Pierrette as they walked down the street. "There's that little
raveled-out dog that always barks at Pierre, and there's Madame
Coudert's cat asleep on the railing, just as she always is."

"Yes," said Mother Meraut, with a sigh, "the cats and dogs are
the same, it is only the people who are different!"

They entered the shop and exchanged greetings with Madame
Coudert. They had bought a long loaf of bread, and Mother Mcraut
was just opening her purse to pay for it, when suddenly a shot
rang out. It was followed by the rattle of falling tiles. Another
and another came, and soon there was a perfect rain of shot and
shell.

"It is the Germans knocking at the door of Rheims before they
enter," remarked Madame Coudert with grim humor. "I did not
expect so much politeness!"

Mother Meraut did not reply. For once her cheerful tongue found
nothing comforting to say. Pierre clung to her arm, and Pierrette
put her fingers in her ears and hid her face against her Mother's
breast.

For some time the deafening sounds continued. From the window
they could see people running for shelter in every direction. A
man came dashing down the street; dodging falling tiles as he
ran, and burst into Madame Coudert's shop. He had just come from
the Rue Colbert and had news to tell. "The Boches have sent an