bs; the men were looking wildly around with terrified eyes;
the frenzied women were howling like the insane. Families had become
separated in the terror of flight. A mother of five little ones now had
but one. The parents, as they realized the number missing, were thinking
with anguish of those who had disappeared. Would they ever find them
again? . . . Or were they already dead? . . .

Don Marcelo returned home, grinding his teeth and waving his cane in an
alarming manner. Ah, the bandits! . . . If only his sister-in-law could
change her sex! Why wasn't she a man? . . . It would be better still if
she could suddenly assume the form of her husband, von Hartrott. What an
interesting interview the two brothers-in-law would have! . . .

The war was awakening religious sentiment in the men and increasing
the devotion of the women. The churches were filled. Dona Luisa was no
longer confining herself to those of her neighborhood. With the courage
induced by extraordinary events, she was traversing Paris afoot and
going from the Madeleine to Notre Dame, or to the Sacre Coeur on the
heights of Montmartre. Religious festivals were now thronged like
popular assemblies. The preachers were tribunes. Patriotic enthusiasm
interrupted many sermon with applause.

Each morning on opening the papers, before reading the war news, Senora
Desnoyers would hunt other notices. "Where was Father Amette going to
be to-day?" Then, under the arched vaultings of that temple, would
she unite her voice with the devout chorus imploring supernatural
intervention. "Lord, save France!" Patriotic religiosity was putting
Sainte Genevieve at the head of the favored ones, so from all these
fiestas, Dona Luisa, tremulous with faith, would return in expectation
of a miracle similar to that which the patron saint of Paris had worked
before the invading hordes of Attila.

Dona Elena was also visiting the churches, but those nearest the house.
Her brother-in-law saw her one afternoon entering Saint-Honoree d'Eylau.
The building was filled with the faithful, and on the altar was a sheaf
of flags--France and the allied nations. The imploring crowd was not
composed entirely of women. Desnoyers saw men of his age, pompous and
grave, moving their lips and fixing steadfast eyes on the altar on which
were reflected like lost stars, the flames of the candles. And again he
felt envy. They were fathers who were recalling their childhood prayers,
thinking of their sons i