The French Twins | Page 9

tried to think what it
was she was so unhappy about; sleep had, for the time being, swept the
terrors of the night quite out of her mind. In an instant more the fearful
truth rolled over her like a wave, and she sank back upon the pillow
with a little moan.
Her Mother heard and understood. She too had waked from sleep to
sorrow, but she only cried out cheerfully, "Bonjour, my sleepy heads!
Last night you did not want to go to your beds at all. This morning you
wish not to leave them! Hop into your clothes as fast as you can, or we
shall be late."
"Late where?" asked Pierre.
"To my work at the Cathedral, to be sure," answered Mother Meraut
promptly. "Where else? Did you think the Germans would make me sit
at home and cry for terror while my work waits? Whoever rules in
Rheims, the Cathedral still stands and must be kept clean."
It was wonderful how the dismal world brightened to Pierre and
Pierrette as they heard their Mother's brave voice. They flew out of bed
at once and were dressed in a twinkling.
While they ate their breakfast, Pierre thought of a plan. "We ought to
take a lot of food with us to-day," he said to his Mother. "There's no
telling what may happen before night. Maybe we can't get home at all
and shall have to sleep in the Cathedral."

"Oh," shuddered Pierrette, "among all those tombs?"
"There are worse places where one might sleep," said the Mother. "The
dead are less to be feared than the living, and the Cathedral is the safest
place in Rheims." She brought out a wicker basket and began to pack it
with food as she talked. First she put in two pots of jam. "There," said
she, "that's the jam Grandmother made from her gooseberries at the
farm."
She paused, struck by a new alarm. Her father and mother lived in a
tiny village far west of Rheims. What if the Germans should succeed in
getting so far as that? What would become of them? She shut her fears
in her breast, saying nothing to the children, and went on filling the
basket. "Here is a bit of cheese left from last night. I'll put that in, and a
pat of butter," she said; "but we must stop at Madame Coudert's for
more bread. You two little pigs have eaten every scrap there was in the
house."
"There are eggs left," suggested Pierrette.
"So there are, ma mie," said her Mother. "We will boil them all and
take them with us. There's a great deal of nourishment in eggs." She
flew to get the saucepan, and while the eggs bubbled and boiled on the
stove, she and the children set the little kitchen in order and got
themselves ready for the street.
It was after nine o'clock when at last Mother Meraut took the basket on
her arm and gave Pierrette her knitting to carry, and the three started
down the steps.
"Everything looks just the same as it did yesterday," said Pierrette as
they walked down the street. "There's that little raveled-out dog that
always barks at Pierre, and there's Madame Coudert's cat asleep on the
railing, just as she always is."
"Yes," said Mother Meraut, with a sigh, "the cats and dogs are the same,
it is only the people who are different!"
They entered the shop and exchanged greetings with Madame Coudert.
They had bought a long loaf of bread, and Mother Mcraut was just
opening her purse to pay for it, when suddenly a shot rang out. It was
followed by the rattle of falling tiles. Another and another came, and
soon there was a perfect rain of shot and shell.
"It is the Germans knocking at the door of Rheims before they enter,"
remarked Madame Coudert with grim humor. "I did not expect so much

politeness!"
Mother Meraut did not reply. For once her cheerful tongue found
nothing comforting to say. Pierre clung to her arm, and Pierrette put her
fingers in her ears and hid her face against her Mother's breast.
For some time the deafening sounds continued. From the window they
could see people running for shelter in every direction. A man came
dashing down the street; dodging falling tiles as he ran, and burst into
Madame Coudert's shop. He had just come from the Rue Colbert and
had news to tell. "The Boches have sent an emissary to the Mayor to
demand huge supplies of provisions from the City, and a great sum of
money besides," he told them, as he gasped for breath. "They are
shelling the champagne cellars and the public buildings of the City to
scare us into giving them what they