In this way a whole week dragged itself by, and, on the morning
of the eighth day after the German entry into Rheims, Mother
Meraut and the Twins left home earlier than usual in order to
reach the Cathedral before the bombardment, which they had
learned daily to expect, should begin. They found Madame Coudert
in front of her shop; washing the window. A large corner of the
poster was now gone. "It rained last night," she said to Mother
Meraut, "and the green color ran down on my window. I had to wash
it, and accidentally I rubbed off a corner of the poster. It
can't be very good paper." She looked solemly at Pierre. "Too
bad, isn't it?" she said, and closed one eye behind her round
spectacles.

"The weather seems to have damaged a good many of them, I
notice," answered Mother Meraut, with just a suspicion of a
smile. "The weather has been quite pleasant too,--strange!"

"Weather--nothing!" said Pierre, scornfully. "I'll bet you that--
"

It seemed as if Pierre was always being interrupted at just the
most exciting moment of his remarks, but this time he interrupted
himself. "What's that?" he said, stopping short. Madame Coudert,
his Mother, and Pierrette, all stood perfectly still, their eyes
wide, their lips parted, listening, listening! They heard cannon-
shots, then music--toward the west--coming nearer--nearer.

"It is--oh, it is the Marseillaise!" shrieked Pierrette.

Mother Meraut and the Twins ran toward the sound. Now shouts were