Her mother's white hand softly stroked her hair with reassuring firmness, while she whispered words of comfort. Then to every awe-struck heart about her she said, with confidence, "It was the house of God Himself, and He has not spared it, while His hand has been over our roof, and He is holding each one of us safe in His keeping"; and we took fresh courage at her words. Gradually the fire slackened, and at length ceased. The morning came, and we were still safe and untouched, amid the surrounding ruin. Soon after daybreak we heard a knock at the door, and the Town-Major, M. Joannes, was ushered in. He looked upon us with astonishment in his tired eyes. "Mme. de Sarennes, no one suspected you of being here! All the inhabitants fled from the face of the town when the fire opened. Pardon me, but you must move at once." "We have only been waiting for orders, monsieur. Where are we to go?" "To the Hotel-Dieu for the present, madame; but it is quite possible that will soon be unsafe, now they have our range. With your permission, I will send some men at once to move what can be carried and stored in some safer place; for you cannot expect the house to stand through another fire." "It has served its purpose, monsieur; we have no right to larger regrets than have others. Come, my children, let us go." With a last look round the room that had seen so much of her life within its walls, she passed out, and bidding us gather our lighter valuables and some clothing, withdrew for a few moments to her own room, and then rejoined us in the hallway. We made a sad little procession as we threaded our way through the ruined streets, between the smoking and crumbling walls of the homes we had looked upon but yesterday, bright with all the assuring signs of comfortable, secure life, past the wrecked Cathedral, and between piles of household goods heaped in ruinous confusion in the Place. This was now crowded with anxious, pale-faced people, hollow-eyed and aged with the terror of actual war, seeking out their little valuables, some with shrill-voiced complaint and contention, others with a hopeless, silent mien that went to our hearts, and yet others with an air of gayety and the tricks and buffooneries of school children. [Illustration: "We made a sad little procession."] We were thankful to escape out of the hubbub and distraction of the streets to the quiet within the walls of the Hotel-Dieu; but, alas! the next night the bombardment recommenced, and it was apparent we could not long hope for safety, as the English fire became more exact and far-reaching. The white-robed nuns moved about their duties with calm resignation, though often the trembling lips or the involuntary start told of the strain it cost to control the natural alarm which shook the heart when some nearer crash foretold approaching disaster.