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.
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