The people of Rheims, infuriated by the long abuse which they had
suffered, stood with guns pointed at the wounded and helpless
Germans whom the doctors and nurses had succeeded in getting so
far on the way to safety. Above the roar of flames rose the roar
of angry voices. "It is the Germans who burn our Cathedral. Let
them die with it," shouted one.
Between the helpless Germans and the angry mob; facing their
guns, towered the figures of the Abby and the Archbishop! "If you
kill them, you must first kill us," cried the Archbishop. Kill
the Archbishop and the Abbe'! Unthinkable! The guns were
immediately lowered, and the work of rescue went on.
Out of the north door crept Father Meraut, supported by his brave
children. "Bravo! Bravo!" shouted the crowd, and then hands that
would have killed Germans willingly, were stretched in instant
sympathy and helpfulness to the wounded French soldier and his
brave children. Two men made a chair of their arms, and Father
Meraut was carried in safety to the square before the Cathedral,
Pierre and Pierrette following close behind. At the foot of the
statue of Jeanne d'Arc they stopped to rest and change hands, and
there, frantic with joy, Mother Meraut found them.
"A soldier of France--wounded at the Marne!" shouted the crowd,
and if he had been able to endure it, they would have borne him
upon their grateful shoulders. As it was, he was carried in no
less grateful arms clear to Madame Coudert's door, and there,
lying upon an improvised stretcher, and attended by his wife and
children, he rested from his journey, while Madame Coudert ran to
prepare a cup of coffee for a stimulant.
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