We had just begun the cooking, when the tinkling of the little bell called everyone together, only to hear that a German Taube was sailing just over the Abbey; so we were all ordered down to the cellars, but before we reached them there was crack! crack! bang! bang! and the rifle-shots flew up, from the street outside the convent, to salute the unwelcome visitor. But to no purpose, and soon the sinister whistling whirr of a descending projectile grated on our ears, while, with a loud crash, the bomb fell on some unfortunate building. We had at first been rather amused at this strange descent to our modern catacombs; but we soon changed our mirth to prayer, and aspiration followed aspiration, till the ceasing of the firing told us that the enemy was gone. We then emerged from the darkness, for we had hidden in the excavation under the steps leading up to the entrance of the Monastery, as the surest place of refuge, there being no windows. This was repeated five or six times a day; so we brought some work to the cellars to occupy us. The firing having begun next morning before breakfast was well finished, one sister arrived down with tea and bread and butter. Later on, while we were preparing some biscuits, the firing started again; so we brought down the mixing-bowl, ingredients and all. We continued our work and prayers and paid no more attention to the bombs or the rifle-shots. Our dear Lady Abbess was not forgotten. The next day Mother Prioress sent for the carriage, while we all breathed a fervent ‘Deo gratias’ that our aged Abbess was out of danger; for what would she have done in the midst of all the bombs? Owing to the panic, which was now at its height, all the inhabitants who were able were leaving the town, abandoning their houses, property--all, all--anxious only to save their lives. There was no means of finding a carriage.