If only the Germans had gone from their trenches on the Aisne,
they and every one else in Rheims would have been quite
comfortable, but alas! this was not to be. The Germans stayed
where they were, and each day sent a new rain of shells upon the
unfortunate City. The inhabitants grew accustomed to it, as one
grows used to thundershowers in April. "Hello! it's beginning to
sprinkle," they would say when a shell burst, spattering mud and
dirt upon the passers-by. Signs appeared upon the street, "Safe
Cellars Here," and when the bombardment began, people would dash
for the nearest shelter and wait until the storm was over.
Pierre and Pierrette played out of doors every day, though they
did not go far from their home, and had no one but each other to
play with. Pierrette made a play-house in one corner of the
court. Here in a little box she kept a store of broken dishes,
and here she sat long hours with her doll Jacqueline. Sometimes
Pierre, having no better occupation, played with her. He even
took a gingerly interest in Jacqueline, although he would not for
the world have let any of the boys know of such a weakness.
When the shells began to fall, they would leave their corner and
run quickly to the cellar. As Father Meraut could not go up or
down, his wife stayed in the kitchen beside him. In this way
several weary weeks went by. Mother Meraut went no more to the
Cathedral. There was nothing there that she could do. The great,
beautiful church which had been the very soul of Rheims and the
pride of France was now nothing but a ruined shell, its wonderful
windows broken, its roof gone, its very walls of stone so burned
that they crumbled to pieces at a touch.
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