ary.'

"'Bravely spoken. You may do as your judgment dictates about repeating
what I shall tell you to the Padre, your uncle. But for the sake of
his safety I should advise that you keep your own secrets. Such
secrecy will not bring dishonor upon you, for it is in behalf of your
country.'

"'I understand, monsieur. You may trust Marie. She is a loyal French
girl and will continue to be so no matter what comes.'

"The captain nodded approvingly.

"'Whether or not we shall be able to hold our lines here seems
doubtful. At least we fear the Prussians, in large force as they are,
may temporarily drive us back. But it will not be for long. We shall
recover our ground. Even now we are entrenching ourselves to the rear.
When that time comes, Marie, you and the Padre will be in peril, for
the French probably will have to shell the village. We hope it may
not come to that. What I would ask you is, do you and your uncle wish
to go to the rear while there is yet time, so you may be safe?'

"'There is reason for believing, monsieur le Capitaine, that Marie may
be of use to her beloved France here?' she questioned.

"'Yes; that is what I would say.'

"'It is not necessary to ask, monsieur.'

"'You will understand that it is better that I do not speak to the
Padre, your uncle. You may do so, and you will the better be able to
judge how to speak to him, though as I already have advised, for the
sake of his safety he should not be involved. You will not be afraid,
Marie?'

"'No, monsieur.'

"'It is well. You have seen me go to the cellar, many times, where I
store my equipment. This equipment I shall remove today, but in the
cellar you will find--'

"At this instant a shell landed in the street and exploded with a
roar. It was followed by other shells that swept on to the rear and
fell beyond the village. A bugle somewhere down the street blew
insistently. The captain sprang to his feet.

"'Marie, I shall see you later. I am called. You will be prudent and
be careful of your life?'

"'Yes, monsieur.'

"The captain hurried out and that was the last the brave little French
girl heard of him for some time afterward. All day the battle raged
and shells fell in the village, many times the Padre's house being
showered with bursting shrapnel and shell splinters. It was a stout
little stone house and withstood this storm of steel, save as now and
then a splinter from a shell tore through the blinds and imbedded
itself in th