he bricks
and hewn stones had been piled in neat heaps, the broken hedges
had been trimmed and the dead parts cut away. Emerging at last
into the garden, he stood still for wonder; even though it was in
ruins, it seemed so beautiful after the disorder of the world
below.

The gravel walks were clean and shining. A wall of very old
boxwoods stood green against a row of dead Lombardy poplars.
Along the shattered side of the main building, a pear tree,
trained on wires like a vine, still flourished,--full of little
red pears. Around the stone well was a shaven grass plot, and
everywhere there were little trees and shrubs, which had been too
low for the shells to hit,--or for the fire, which had seared the
poplars, to catch. The hill must have been wrapped in flames at
one time, and all the tall trees had been burned.

The barrack was built against the walls of the cloister,--three
arches of which remained, like a stone wing to the shed of
planks. On a ladder stood a one-armed young man, driving nails
very skillfully with his single hand. He seemed to be making a
frame projection from the sloping roof, to support an awning. He
carried his nails in his mouth. When he wanted one, he hung his
hammer to the belt of his trousers, took a nail from between his
teeth, stuck it into the wood, and then deftly rapped it on the
head. Claude watched him for a moment, then went to the foot of
the ladder and held out his two hands. "Laissez-moi," he
exclaimed.

The one aloft spat his nails out into his palm, looked down, and
laughed. He was about Claude's age, with very yellow hair and
moustache and blue eyes. A charming looking fellow.

"Willingly," he said. "This is no great affair, but I do it to
amuse myself, and it will be pleasant for the ladies." He
descended and gave his hammer to the visitor. Claude set to work
on the frame, while the other went under the stone arches and
brought back a roll of canvas,--part of an old tent, by the look
of it.

"Un heritage des Boches," he explained unrolling it upon the
grass. "I found it among their filth in the cellar, and had the
idea to make a pavilion for the ladies, as our trees are
destroyed." He stood up suddenly. "Perhaps you have come to see
the ladies?"

"Plus tard."

Very well, the boy said, they would get the pavilion done for a
surprise for Mlle. Olive when she returned. She was down in the
town now, visiting the sick people. He bent over his canvas
again, measuring an