y in some corner of that church.

Meanwhile the sacred Office was proceeding at the altar. At any other
time we might have smiled at the sight of that soldier-priest served
by choristers of thirty-five in uniform; at that ceremony it was
inexpressibly touching and attractive, and it was especially
delightful to see how carefully and precisely each performed his
function that the ceremony might not lack its accustomed pomp.

When the singing had ceased the Chaplain went up to the holy table. In
a voice full of feeling he tried to express his gratitude and
happiness to all those brave fellows. I should not imagine him to be a
brilliant speaker at the best of times, but on that occasion the
worthy man was completely unintelligible. His happiness was choking
him. He tried in vain to find the words he wanted, used the wrong
ones, and only confused himself by trying to get them right. But
nobody had the least desire to laugh when, to conclude his address, he
said with a sigh of relief:

"And now we will tell twenty beads of the rosary; ten for the success
of our arms, and the other ten in memory of soldiers who have died on
the field of honour.... _Hail! Mary, full of grace_...."

I looked round the church once more, and every one's lips were moving
silently accompanying the priest's words. Opposite us I saw the
artillery captain take a rosary out of his pocket and tell the beads
with dreamy eyes; and when the Chaplain came to the sentence "Holy
Mary, Mother of God, ..." hundreds of voices burst forth, deep and
manly voices, full of fervour which seemed to proclaim their faith in
Him Who was present before them on the altar, and also to promise
self-sacrifice and devotion to that other sacred thing, their Country.

Then, after the _Tantum ergo_ had been sung with vigour, the priest
held up the monstrance, and I saw all those soldiers with one accord
kneel down on the stone floor and bow their heads. The silence was
impressive; not a word, not a cough, and not a chair moved. I had
never seen such devotion in any church. Some spiritual power was
brooding over the assemblage and bowing all those heads in token of
submission and hope. Good, brave soldiers of France, how we love and
honour you at such moments, and what confidence your chiefs must feel
when they lead such men to battle!

* * * * *

We sat at table around the lamp, and good Maman Cheveret had just
brought in the steaming soup.