The Abbe' was there, and the
Archbishop also. Already the straw had caught fire in several
places from falling brands. "Out through the north transept,"
shouted the Abbe.
Pierre and Pierrette knew well what they had come to do. For them
there was but one person in the Cathedral, and that person was
their Father. They had but one purpose--to get him out. Young as
they were, they were already well used to danger, and it scarcely
occurred to them that they were risking their lives. Certainly
they were not afraid. When they reached their Father's side, they
found him vainly struggling to rise.
"Here we are, Father," shouted Pierre: "Lean on us!" He flew to
one side; Pierrette was already struggling to lift him on the
other. As his bed was the one farthest from the spot where the
fire first appeared, the doctors and nurses had sought to rescue
those in greatest danger, and so the children for the time being
were alone in their effort to save him.
The flames were now leaping through the Cathedral aisles,
devouring the straw beds as if they were tinder. In vain Father
Meraut ordered them to leave him. For once his children refused
to obey. Somehow they got him to his feet, and he, for their
sakes making a superhuman effort, succeeded in staggering between
them, using their lithe young bodies as crutches. How they
reached the door of the north transept they never knew, but reach
it they did, before the burning flames. And there a new terror
appeared.
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