How the destruction of a noble work of art could promote Germany's victory over her enemies is difficult to understand. It is worthy of note that a hotel close to the cathedral remained untouched: it was kept by a German. For some months the north-east tower of the cathedral had been under repair, and when the bombardment began it was surrounded by scaffolding. On 19th September a shell set fire to the outer roof; the fire quickly spread to the scaffolding, and then to the wooden beams of the portal. An American correspondent tells us that, when the flames gained on the building, the Archbishop of Rheims and a party of volunteers rushed inside and carried out the wounded Germans on stretchers. The rescuing parties were not a minute too soon. Already from the roofs molten lead was falling. The blazing doors had fired the straw on which the wounded lay, and the interior was like a prairie fire. Splashed by the molten lead, and threatened by falling timbers, the priests, at the risk of their lives and limbs, carried out the wounded, numbering sixty in all. But after bearing them to safety their charges were confronted with a new danger. Inflamed by the sight of their own dead, four hundred citizens having been killed by the bombardment, and by the loss of their cathedral, the people of Rheims who were gathered about the burning building called for the lives of the German prisoners. "They are barbarians," they cried. "Kill them!" The archbishop and one of his clergy placed themselves in front of the wounded. "Before you kill them," they cried, "you must first kill us!" Surely this noble deed will live in history. There can scarcely be a finer picture of heroism than that of the venerable archbishop, with his cathedral blazing behind him, facing a mob of his own people in defence of their enemies. The same writer gives us some idea of the havoc wrought by the German shells: "The windows, that were the glory of the cathedral, were wrecked. Statues of saints and crusaders and cherubim lay in mangled fragments. The great bells, that for hundreds of years have sounded the Angelus[148] for Rheims, were torn from their oak girders and melted into black masses of silver and copper, without shape and without sound. Never have I looked upon a picture of such wanton and wicked destruction." [Illustration: Portal of Rheims Cathedral after Bombardment. _Photo, Central News._] In the square in front of the cathedral stands a fine statue of the Maid on horseback. Strange to say, though the square was ploughed up with shells, the figure of the Maid was uninjured; only the horse's legs were chipped and scarred. A French soldier had placed a tricolour in the outstretched hand of the figure. All through those days of terror and destruction the French flag was upheld by the arm of France's ancient deliverer.