eed of them; she was obsessed by one thought; to find a
shelter for the remains of what had been the joy and hope of her life.

"Just come," said Sister Gabrielle. "I will let you see her. We have
put the poor little body in the mortuary chamber, and Sister Elizabeth
is watching there."

I followed Sister Gabrielle, who opened a small door, and went down a
few steps; we crossed a paved court. Her lantern and my candle cast
yellowish gleams upon the high walls of the buildings. Heavy drops of
rain were falling, making a strange noise on the stones. And a kind of
anguish seized me when I again heard the continuous wailing of the
unhappy mother. Sister Gabrielle opened a low door very gently, and we
went in.

I must confess that I had been much less moved when, after the first
day of the Battle of the Marne, we passed through a wood where our
artillery had reduced a whole German regiment to a shapeless mass of
human fragments. Here I realised all the horror of war. That men
should kill each other in defence of their homes is conceivable
enough, and I honour those who fall. But it passes all understanding
why the massacre should include these poor weak and innocent
creatures. And sights such as the one I saw in that little mortuary
chapel inspire a fierce thirst for vengeance.

On a kind of large table, covered with a white cloth, the poor body
was laid out. It bore no trace of any wound, and the little white face
seemed to be smiling. The good nuns had covered the shabby clothes
with an embroidered cloth. Upon that they had crossed the little
hands, which seemed to be clasping a tiny crucifix. And over the whole
they had strewn an armful of flowers. On each side they had placed
silver candlesticks, and the reddish candle-light made golden
reflections in the curly locks of the little corpse. Crouching on the
ground by the side of it, I saw a shapeless heap of clothes which
seemed to be shaken by convulsive spasms. It was from this heap that
the monotonous wailing came. It was the young mother, weeping for her
little one. One felt that nothing could console her, and that words
would only increase her suffering. Besides, she had not even raised
her head when we went in. It was best to leave her alone, since they
say that tears bring comfort.

On the other side a young Sister was kneeling at a _prie-Dieu_,
telling her rosary. Sister Gabrielle knelt down on the ground beside
her. I longed to do something to lessen that gr