could have been taken home and lovingly nursed
there. That was not possible. The surgeons had no time for
house-to-house visits. He was operated on in the Cathedral, and as he
lay between life and death, news came that the Germans were close to
Rheims.

In haste the wounded were sent to Epernay--to save them from being made
prisoners. But some could not go: Louis de St. Pol and his friend
Captain Jean de Visgnes. De Visgnes might have been hidden in the St.
Pol house but he would not leave the boy, who could not be moved so far.
The Cure vowed to hide both, and he did hide them in a chapel of the
Cathedral itself. On September 3, at evening, the first Germans rode
into the town and took up their quarters in the Municipal Palace, where
they forced the Mayor, a very old man, to live with them. It was a
changed Rheims since the day before. The troops of the garrison had gone
in the direction of Epernay, since there was no hope of defence. Many
rich people had fled, taking what they could carry in automobiles or
cabs. The poor feared a siege--or worse: they knew not what. The St. Pol
family received into their house a number of women whose husbands were
at the Front, and their babies. No one ventured out who could stay
indoors. The city filled up with German soldiers, with the Kaiser's son,
Prince August Wilhelm, at their head. They, too, had wounded. The
Cathedral was put to use for them, and the Cure cared for the Boches as
he had cared for the French. This gave him a chance, at night, to nurse
his two friends. So dragged on seven days, which seemed seven years; and
then rumours drifted in of a great German retreat, a mysterious failure
in the midst of seeming victory. The Battle of the Marne was making
itself felt. In rage and bewilderment the Germans poured out of Rheims,
leaving only their wounded behind. The townspeople praised God, and
thought their trial was over. But it was only just begun! On the 16th
the bombardment opened. The Germans knew that their wounded still lay in
the Cathedral, but they did not seem to care for men out of the fighting
line. A rain of bombs fell in the town--one of the first wrecked the Red
Cross ambulance--and many struck the Cathedral. Then came the night when
the straw bedding blazed, and fire poured through the long naves, rising
to the roof.

The Cure told afterward how wonderful the sight was with the jewelled
windows lighting up for the last time, before the old glass burst with