black soutane to the farthest corner of the hospital space.
There, beside a mound of straw upon which was stretched a wounded
soldier in French uniform, knelt their Mother, and the Twins,
looking down, met the eyes of their own Father gazing up at them.

"Gently! my dears, gently!" cautioned their Mother, as the
children fell upon their knees beside her in an agony of tears.
"Don't cry! he is wounded, to be sure, but he will get well,
though he can never again fight for France. We shall see him
every day, and by and by he will be at home again with us."

Too stunned for speech, the Twins only kissed the blood-stained
hands, and then their Mother led them away. Under the western
arches she kissed them good-by. "Go now to Madame Coudert," she
said, "and tell her your Father is here, and that I shall stay in
the Cathedral. Ask her to take care of you for the night. In the
morning, if it is quiet, come again to me."

Dazed, happy, grieved, the children obeyed. They found Madame
Coudert beaming above her empty counter. "Bless you," she cried,
when they gave her their Mother's message, "of course you can
stay! There are no pink cakes for Pierre, but who cares for cakes
now that the French are once more in Rheims! And to think you
have your Father back again! Surely this is a happy day for you,
even though he came back with a wound!"



V. AT MADAME COUDERT'S