After tea was served, the old man sighed deeply. “Now, André,” he said, “to relieve your anxiety as well as I can. “To begin. The hospital where we left your mother is small. And it is well outside the town of St. Sauveur le Vicomte--in the country, really. The doctors there are good. Your father, Marie, and I waited for some time to get a report from them about your mother. “At about ten-thirty o’clock, Monday night--that was June 5th--one of the doctors came to tell us that Mme. Gagnon needed only the right medicine and a week or two to get well. That is good news, eh?” André sighed. “Yes, very good.” “Ah! another thing.” The priest held up a thin finger. “The Maquis met us exactly on time, at the rendezvous not far from the hospital. And your brave English flyer--Ronald Pitt--ran for it. What a sight! Two of the roughest looking of our Maquis and a nun, racing toward a near-by building. But--well, they got away safely. That _was_ good, no?” “Wonderful,” André murmured. “Well, then. At about eleven-thirty that night, your father and I stood at the hospital door. We were to start back home, and Marie was to stay with your mother. We heard bombing all around us. Your father said, ‘The bombing is getting bad.’ “Just as he said that, we heard loud shouting in German, and Nazis began pouring out of their camp onto the roads. “A minute later there was the sound of motorcycles and cars shrieking in the streets, and heavy antiaircraft fire. “Someone cried out, ‘The Invasion has begun! _Parachutists are landing all around Ste. Mère!_’ “Your father felt that his duty was to remain with Mme. Gagnon. I, that my duty was to hasten home. And I promised to look after you, André.” The old man smiled wryly. “I did not have much chance to do that, did I? “In the midst of it, Marie appeared. She was with Leon Duplis, a Maquis I know well. “She said, ‘Father, the Maquis here need women to help with the villagers. Please do not forbid me to go. In the hospital, Mother is in good hands.’ “Your father agreed, but not willingly. In another minute Marie and Leon were on a motorcycle and out of sight.” “But how did you get home, father? It has been five days,” asked André. The priest replied, “It was necessary to follow the loneliest roads through the confusion. One did not know where the shells or the snipers’ bullets would strike. “I slept well enough under hedges,” the priest continued. “I was very kindly given food by many villagers. Sometimes I took refuge in a church or house. At times I was able to help with the wounded and ill. And sometimes I stopped to comfort the children.” Father Duprey rose and put a kindly hand on André’s shoulder. “I am glad that you were spared, son. Go home now, and do not worry. Even about Marie. The Gagnons are a family that for two hundred years has not been easily crushed.”