One unhappy day followed upon another for the inhabitants of Rheims.  Each night they went to bed in terror; each morning they rose to face new trials and dangers.  Yet their spirit did not fail.  Each day the roar of guns toward the west grew fainter and more distant, and the people knew with sinking hearts that the Germans had driven the Armies of France farther and farther back toward Paris.  Each day the conduct of the conquerors grew more arrogant.  “Our Emperor will soon be in Paris!” they said.

On the public monuments and in the squares of the City appeared German proclamations printed upon green paper, warning the people of Rheims of terrible punishments which would befall them if they in any way rebelled against the will of the victorious invaders.  It was only with great difficulty that Pierre could be dragged by these signs.  Each morning as they went to the Cathedral they had to pass several of them, and Pierrette and her Mother soon learned to take precautions against an outburst of rage which might bring down upon his rash head the wrath of the enemy.  The eye of the Germans seemed everywhere.  One of these posters was fixed to the window of Madame Coudert’s shop.  On the morning that it first appeared, Pierre in passing made a dash for the gutter, picked up a handful of mud, and threw it squarely into the middle of the poster.

Madame Coudert saw him, and winked solemnly, but did not move.  His Mother instantly collared Pierre, and led him up a side street just in time to escape the clutches of a German officer who had seen him a block away, and came on the run after him.  When, puffing and blowing, he at last reached the shop there was no one in sight except Madame Coudert behind her counter.  The enraged officer pointed out the insult that had been offered his country.

Madame Coudert looked surprised and concerned.  She followed the officer to the door, and gazed at the disfigured poster.  “I will clean it at once,” she said obligingly.  She got out soap and a brush immediately, and when she had finished, her work had been so thoroughly done that not a spot of mud was left, but unfortunately the center of the poster was rubbed through and quite illegible, and the rest of it was all streaked and stained!  “Will that do?” she asked the officer, looking at him with round, innocent eyes and so evident a desire to please that, in spite of an uneasy suspicion, he merely grunted and went his way.

The first time they came into the shop after this episode Madame Coudert gave Pierre a cake with pink frosting on it.

In this way a whole week dragged itself by, and, on the morning of the eighth day after the German entry into Rheims, Mother Meraut and the Twins left home earlier than usual in order to reach the Cathedral before the bombardment, which they had learned daily to expect, should begin.  They found Madame Coudert in front of her shop; washing the window.  A large corner of the poster was now gone.  “It rained last night,” she said to Mother Meraut, “and the green color ran down on my window.  I had to wash it, and accidentally I rubbed off a corner of the poster.  It can’t be very good paper.”  She looked solemly at Pierre.  “Too bad, isn’t it?” she said, and closed one eye behind her round spectacles.