“It’s a bold bit of dirt that would try to stand out against me,” declared Mother Meraut, with a flourish of her dust-cloth, “for when I go after it I think to myself, ’Ah, if I but had one of those detestable Germans by the nose, how I would grind it!’ and the very thought brings such power to my elbow that I check myself lest I wear through the stones of the floor.”

The Verger laughed, then shook his head.  “Truly, Antoinette,” he said, “I believe you could seize your husband’s gun if he were to fall, and fill his place in the Army as well as you fill his place here in the Cathedral, doing a man’s work with a woman’s strength, and smiling as if it were but play!  Our France can never despair while there are women like you.”

“My Jacques shall carry his own gun,” said Mother Meraut, stoutly, “and bring it home with him when the war is over, if God wills, and may it be soon!  Meanwhile I will help to keep our holy Cathedral clean as he used to do.  It is not easy work, but one must do what one can, and surely it is better to do it with smiles than with tears!”

The Verger nodded.  “That is true,” he said, “yet it is hard to smile in the face of sorrow.”

“But we must smile—­though our hearts break—­for France, and for our children, lest they forget joy!” cried Mother Meraut.  She smiled as she spoke, though her lip trembled “I will you the truth, Henri, sometimes when I think of what the Germans have already done in Belgium, and may yet do in France, I feel my heart breaking in my bosom.  And then I say to myself, ’Courage, Antoinette!  It is our business to live bravely for the France that is to be when this madness is over.  Our armies are still between us and the Boche.  It is not time to be afraid.’”

“And I tell you, they shall not pass,” cried Father Varennes, striking his crutch angrily upon the stone floor.  “The brave soldiers of France will not permit it!  Oh, if I could but carry a gun instead of this!” He rattled his crutch despairingly as he spoke.

Mother Meraut sighed.  “Though I am a woman, I too wish I might fight the invaders,” she said, “but since I may not carry a gun, I will put all the more energy into my broom and sweep the dirt from the Cathedral as I would sweep the Germans back to the Rhine if I could.”

“It is, indeed, the only way for women, children, and such as I,” grieved the Verger.

“Tut, tut,” answered Mother Meraut cheerfully, “it isn’t given us to choose our service.  If God had wanted us to fight he would have given us power to do it.”

The Verger shook his head.  “I wish I were sure of that,” he said, “for there’s going to be need for all the fighting blood in France if half one hears is true.  They say now that the Germans are already far over the French border and that our Army is retreating before them.  The roads are more than ever crowded with refugees, and the word they bring is that the Germans have already reached the valley of the Aisne.”