As for the children, thank God! they were not disturbed as we were—­to them it was a beautiful holiday—­it was like Heaven.  There is no place on earth that I love like Semur, yet it is true that the streets are narrow, and there is not much room for the children.  Here they were happy as the day; they strayed over all our gardens and the meadows, which were full of flowers; they sat in companies upon the green grass, as thick as the daisies themselves, which they loved.  Old Sister Mariette, who is called Marie de la Consolation, sat out in the meadow under an acacia-tree and watched over them.  She was the one among us who was happy.  She had no son, no husband, among the watchers, and though, no doubt, she loved her convent and her hospital, yet she sat all day long in the shade and in the full air, and smiled, and never looked towards Semur.  ‘The good Lord will do as He wills,’ she said, ’and that will be well.’  It was true—­we all knew it was true; but it might be—­who could tell?—­that it was His will to destroy our town, and take away our bread, and perhaps the lives of those who were dear to us; and something came in our throats which prevented a reply. ‘Ma soeur,’ I said, ’we are of the world, we tremble for those we love; we are not as you are.’  Sister Mariette did nothing but smile upon us.  ’I have known my Lord these sixty years,’ she said, ’and He has taken everything from me.’  To see her smile as she said this was more than I could bear.  From me He had taken something, but not all.  Must we be prepared to give up all if we would be perfected?  There were many of the others also who trembled at these words.  ‘And now He gives me my consolation,’ she said, and called the little ones round her, and told them a tale of the Good Shepherd, which is out of the holy Gospel.  To see all the little ones round her knees in a crowd, and the peaceful face with which she smiled upon them, and the meadows all full of flowers, and the sunshine coming and going through the branches:  and to hear that tale of Him who went forth to seek the lamb that was lost, was like a tale out of a holy book, where all was peace and goodness and joy.  But on the other side, not twenty steps off, was the house full of those who wept, and at all the doors and windows anxious faces gazing down upon that cloud in the valley where Semur was.  A procession of our women was coming back, many with lingering steps, carrying the baskets which were empty.  ’Is there any news?’ we asked, reading their faces before they could answer.  And some shook their heads, and some wept.  There was no other reply.