The French Twins | Page 8

of straw. In all the City there was not a cheerful sight, and
everywhere, above all other sounds, were heard the rumble of wheels,
the sharp clap-clap of horses' hoofs upon the pavement, and the steady
beat of marching feet.
At last, weary and heartsick, the three wanderers turned into a side
street and stepped into a little shop where food was sold. "We must
have some supper," said Mother Meraut to the Twins, "Germans or no
Germans! One cannot carry a stout heart above an empty stomach! And
if it is to be our last meal in French Rheims, let us at least make it a
good one!" Though there was a catch in her voice, she smiled almost
gaily as she spoke. "Who knows?" she went on. "Perhaps after
to-morrow we shall be able to get nothing but sauerkraut and sausage!"
The shop was not far from the little home of the Merauts, and they
often bought things of stout Madame Coudert, whose round face with
its round spectacles rose above the counter like a full moon from
behind a cloud. "Ah, mon amie," said Mother Meraut as she entered the
shop, "it is good to see you sitting in your place and not running away
like a hare before the hounds!"
Madame Coudert shrugged her shoulders. "But of what use is it to run
when one has no place to run to?" she demanded. "As for me, I stay by
the shop and die at least respectably among my own cakes and pies. To

run through the country and die at last in a ditch-- it would not suit me
at all!"
"Bravo," cried Mother Meraut triumphantly. "Just my own idea! My
children and I will remain in our home and take what comes, rather
than leap from the frying-pan into the fire as so many are doing. If
every one runs away, there will be no Rheims at all." Then to Pierre
and Pierrette she said "Choose, each of you. What shall we buy for our
supper?"
Pierre pointed a grimy finger at a small cake with pink frosting. "That,"
he said briefly.
His mother smiled. "Ah, Pierre, that sweet-tooth of yours!" she cried.
"Like Marie Antoinette you think if one lacks bread one may eat cakes!
And now it is Pierrette's turn; only be quick, ma mie, for it is already
late."
"Eggs," said Pierrette promptly, "for one of your savory omelets,
mamma, and a bit of cheese."
The purchases were quickly made, and, having said good-night to
Madame Coudert, they hurried on to the little house in the Rue Charly
where they lived. When they reached home, it was already quite dark.
Mother Meraut hastened up the steps and unlocked the door, and in less
time than it takes to tell it her bonnet was off, the fire was burning, and
the omelet was cooking on the stove.
Pierrette set the table. "I'm going to place father's chair too," she said to
her mother. "He is no doubt thinking of us as we are of him, and it will
make him stem nearer."
Mother Meraut nodded her head without speaking, and wiped her eyes
on her apron as she slid the omelet on to a hot plate. Then she seated
herself opposite the empty chair and with a steady voice prayed for a
blessing upon the food and upon the Armies of France.
When they had finished supper, cleared it away, and put the kitchen in
order, Mother Meraut pointed to the clock. "Voila!" she cried, "hours
past your bedtime, and here you are still flapping about like two young
owls! To bed with you as fast as you can go."
"But, Mother," began Pierre.
"Not a single 'but,'" answered his Mother, wagging her finger at him.
"Va!"
The children knew protest was useless, and in a few minutes they were

snugly tucked away. Long after they were both sound asleep, their
Mother sat with her head bowed upon the table, listening, listening to
the distant sound of marching feet. At last, worn out with grief and
anxiety, shat too undressed, said her rosary, and, after a long look at her
sleeping children, blew out the candle and crept into bed beside
Pierrette.
Silence and darkness settled down upon the little household, and, for a
time at least, their sorrows were forgotten in the blessed oblivion of
sleep.

III. THE COMING OF THE GERMANS
When the Twins opened their eyes the next morning, the first thing
they saw was the sun shining in at the eastern window of the kitchen,
and Mother Meraut bending over the fire. There was a smell of
chocolate in the air, and on the table there were rolls and butter. Pierre
yawned and rubbed his eyes. Pierrette sat up and