They found Madame Coudert
in front of her shop; washing the window. A large corner of the
poster was now gone. "It rained last night," she said to Mother
Meraut, "and the green color ran down on my window. I had to wash
it, and accidentally I rubbed off a corner of the poster. It
can't be very good paper." She looked solemly at Pierre. "Too
bad, isn't it?" she said, and closed one eye behind her round
spectacles.
"The weather seems to have damaged a good many of them, I
notice," answered Mother Meraut, with just a suspicion of a
smile. "The weather has been quite pleasant too,--strange!"
"Weather--nothing!" said Pierre, scornfully. "I'll bet you that--
"
It seemed as if Pierre was always being interrupted at just the
most exciting moment of his remarks, but this time he interrupted
himself. "What's that?" he said, stopping short. Madame Coudert,
his Mother, and Pierrette, all stood perfectly still, their eyes
wide, their lips parted, listening, listening! They heard cannon-
shots, then music--toward the west--coming nearer--nearer.
"It is--oh, it is the Marseillaise!" shrieked Pierrette.
Mother Meraut and the Twins ran toward the sound. Now shouts were
heard--joyous shouts--from French throats! Never had they heard
such a sound! People came tumbling out of their houses, some not
fully dressed--but who cared? The French were returning
victorious from the battle of the Marne. They were coming again
into Rheims, driving the Germans before them! Ah, but when the
red trousers actually appeared in the streets the populace went
mad with joy! They embraced the soldiers; they marched beside
them with tears streaming down their cheeks, singing "March on!
March on!" as though they would split their throats.
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