Pierrette seized Pierre's hand. "Oh," she shuddered, "I didn't
think they'd be Germans!"

"They aren't--all of them," said the Verger, a little huskily.
"Some of them are French. The Church shelters them all."

Doctors in white aprons were already in attendance upon the
wounded, and nurses with red crosses on the sleeves of their
white uniforms flitted silently back and forth on errands of
mercy. The two children, clinging to each other and gazing
fearfully about them, followed the Verger down the aisle. As they
passed a heap of straw upon which a wounded German lay, something
bright rolled from it to them and dropped at Pierrette's feet.
Pierre sprang to pick it up. It was a German helmet. Across the
front of it were letters. Pierre spelled them--"Gott mit uns."
"What does that mean?" he asked the Verger.

"God with us," snorted Father Varennes. "I suppose the poor
wretches actually believe He is."

The Abbe' was waiting for them in the aisle, and he took from
them the flags and the helmet. He had heard the Verger's reply,
and guessed what the question must have been. "My boy," he said,
laying his hand gently upon Pierre's head for an instant, "God is
not far from any of his children. It is they who, through sin,
separate themselves from Him! But never mind theology now. Your
Mother is waiting for you. I will take you to her."

The Twins thought it strange that the Abbe' should himself guide
them to their Mother. They followed his broad back and swinging