“She is wonderful,” said Soeur Laurent, referring to Madame Guix.  “Wonderful—­afraid of nothing.  Once at the beginning of the invasion she was put against the wall and a brute of a German aimed and pulled the trigger of a gun he had found in a corner.  She had accidentally covered it with a wounded man’s great coat!  He accused her of hiding arms!  Then in the thick of the battle, she went out into the German lines and sought a doctor for our men—­feeling herself incompetent.  The whole German medical staff came in and felicitated her on her courage and devotion, before they left.  I tell you all this because she never will!”

A couple of days later a doctor and the infirmiers arrived, the latter not picked men, since in ordinary life they are a tax collector, a super at the Theatre de Belleville, an omnibus painter, a notary’s clerk and a barber!  But they are all “good fellows,” ready to work with no choice as to the “job.”

Madame Guix duly made her appearance, and our hospital was declared open.

From loans and requisitions we accumulated a hundred beds, and for fifteen months now, by begging and strictest economy, we have managed to keep alive and to care, as best we can and in our primitive way, for all those of France’s brave sons who come to us, sick or wounded.  With God’s help, we shall go on doing so until the day of our complete victory.

The End