wet, soapy smell which pervaded the air. "One might even eat from
your clean floor, Antoinette," he said, smiling, "and taste
nothing worse with his food than a bit of soap. Truly the chapel
is as clean as a shriven soul."

"It's a bold bit of dirt that would try to stand out against me,"
declared Mother Meraut, with a flourish of her dust-cloth, "for
when I go after it I think to myself, 'Ah, if I but had one of
those detestable Germans by the nose, how I would grind it!' and
the very thought brings such power to my elbow that I check
myself lest I wear through the stones of the floor."

The Verger laughed, then shook his head. "Truly, Antoinette," he
said, "I believe you could seize your husband's gun if he were to
fall, and fill his place in the Army as well as you fill his
place here in the Cathedral, doing a man's work with a woman's
strength, and smiling as if it were but play! Our France can
never despair while there are women like you."

"My Jacques shall carry his own gun," said Mother Meraut,
stoutly, "and bring it home with him when the war is over, if God
wills, and may it be soon! Meanwhile I will help to keep our holy
Cathedral clean as he used to do. It is not easy work, but one
must do what one can, and surely it is better to do it with
smiles than with tears!"

The Verger nodded. "That is true," he said, "yet it is hard to
smile in the face of sorrow."

"But we must smile--though our hearts break--for France, and for