orning at four o'clock for
prayers.

And, as we came out of this humble chapel, I noticed two mattresses,
laid in a corner of the little anteroom.

"Who sleeps here, then, Sister?" I asked.

Sister Gabrielle turned as red as a poppy. I had to repeat my question
twice, when, lowering her eyes, she answered:

"Sister Elizabeth--Sister Elizabeth ... and I."

"Sister Gabrielle, ... Sister Gabrielle, then that little room and
those two little beds where we slept, were yours?"

"Hush! Please come to breakfast at once."

And, light as a bird, she disappeared down the staircase, so quickly
that her black veil floated high above her, as though to hide her
confusion.

* * * * *

And we saw no more of Sister Gabrielle. It was a very old woman--one
of the inmates--who brought us our hot milk and coffee, our brown
bread and fresh butter, in the dining-room with the high cupboards of
polished wood. She explained that at this hour the nuns were busy
attending to their old folk. It was of no use begging to see our
little hostess again. We were told it would be against the rules, and
we felt that the curtain had now indeed fallen upon this charming act
of the weary tragedy.

Only, just as we were passing out of the convent gate for the last
time, the old lady put into our hands a big packet of provisions
wrapped up in a napkin. She had brought it hidden under her apron.

"Here, she told me to give you this, and ... to say that she will pray
for you."

Our hearts swelled as we heard the heavy door close behind us. And
whilst we went away silently along the broken, muddy road, we thought
of the sterling hearts that are hidden under the humble habits of a
convent.

Sister Gabrielle! I shall never forget you. Never will your delicate
features fade from my memory. And I seem to see you still, going up
the great wooden staircase, lit up by the flickering flame of the
candle, when you and Sister Elizabeth gave up your beds so simply and
unostentatiously to the two unknown soldiers.

VIII. CHRISTMAS NIGHT

"_Mon Lieutenant mon Lieutenant_, it's two o'clock."

My faithful Wattrelot held the flickering candle just in front of my
eyes to rouse me. What torture it is to be snatched from sleep at such
an early hour! It would not be anything in summer; but it was the 24th
of December, and it was my turn to go on duty in the trenches. A nice
way of keeping Christmas!... I turned over in my b