Our life, by this time, had become still more like that of the Christians of the first era of the Church, our cellars taking the place of the catacombs, to which they bore some resemblance. We recited the Divine Office in the provision cellar under the kitchen, which we had first intended for Lady Abbess. A crucifix and statue of Our Lady replaced the altar. On the left were huge wooden cases filled with potatoes, and one small one of turnips--on the right, a cistern of water, with a big block for cutting meat (we had carefully hidden the hatchet, in case the Germans, seeing the two together, should be inspired to chop off our heads). Behind us, other cases were filled with boxes and sundry things, whilst on top of them were the bread-bins. We were, however, too much taken up with the danger we were in to be distracted by our surroundings. We realised then, to the full, the weakness of man’s feeble efforts, and how true it is that God alone is able to protect those who put their trust in Him. The cellar adjoining, leading up to the kitchen, was designed for the refectory. In it were the butter-tubs, the big meat-safe, the now empty jars for the milk. A long narrow table was placed down the centre, with our serviettes, knives, spoons, and forks; while everyone tried to take as little space as possible, so as to leave room for her neighbour. The procession to dinner and supper was rather longer than usual, leading from the ante-choir through the kitchen, scullery, down the cellar stairs, and it was no light work carrying down all the ‘portions,’ continually running up and down the steps, with the evident danger of arriving at the bottom quicker than one wanted to, sending plates and dishes in advance.