"Now run along, both
of you," he said. "Tell your Mother where you are going, and that
I sent you."
In two minutes the Twins were on their way, but it was more than
an hour before they got back. First, the shop-keeper was out, and
when he got back it took him some time to find large enough
flags. At last, however, they returned, each carrying one done up
in a paper parcel.
"Here are the flags," Pierre announced proudly to the Verger, who
met them at the entrance.
"Yes," said Father Varennes, "here they are, and here you are.
Come in, your Mother wants to see you." The children followed him
through the door, and although they had been told that the
wounded were to be brought to the Cathedral, they were not
prepared for the sight that met their eyes as they entered. On
the heaps of straw lay tossing moaning men, in the gray uniforms
of the German army.
Pierrette seized Pierre's hand. "Oh," she shuddered, "I didn't
think they'd be Germans!"
"They aren't--all of them," said the Verger, a little huskily.
"Some of them are French. The Church shelters them all."
Doctors in white aprons were already in attendance upon the
wounded, and nurses with red crosses on the sleeves of their
white uniforms flitted silently back and forth on errands of
mercy. The two children, clinging to each other and gazing
fearfully about them, followed the Verger down the aisle. As they
passed a heap of straw upon which a wounded German lay, something
bright rolled from it to them and dropped at Pierrette's feet.
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