"These are
Americans," she explained in French, "come from the United States
of America to fight with us. Shake hands with them."
The Twins obeyed shyly, and when their Father rejoined the family
a few moments later, their friendship had progressed to such an
extent that Pierre was seated on one side of the tall man and
Pierrette on the other, and they were all three studying a French
phrase-book. The short man, called Jim, was gesticulating wildly,
and talking to Mother Meraut, and she, good soul, looked so wise,
and said "Oui" and "Non," and nodded her head so intelligently to
encourage him, that he never suspected that she did not
understand one word in ten, and cast triumphant glances at the
tall man to see if he was observing his success.
At this moment a French Captain came by. The men sprang to their
feet, clicked their heels together, and saluted. Father Meraut
stiffened into military position and saluted also. The officer
returned the salute, then stopped and spoke to him. "You are a
soldier of France, I see," he said. "Where did you get your
wound?"
"With Joffre, at the Marne, mon Capitaine," answered Father
Meraut, proudly. And then he told the Captain of his being
brought wounded to the Cathedral in Rheims, of its bombardment
and burning, and of his rescue by Pierre and Pierrette.
The Captain turned to the Americans and said to them in English:
"We have here three heroes of France instead of one! These
children have lived under constant fire since last September, and
they rescued their wounded father from the burning Cathedral of
Rheims at the risk of their own lives.
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