to me, 'Place me down in the cave, and you will be safe.' So I brought
her down."

[Footnote 1: Dialect for _petite_.]

She led us to a tiny underground apartment, probably a vegetable cellar,
and there, on a bracket jutting from the mildewed wall, stood the
painted plaster image of the saint.

"_Voilà ma Sainte Claire!_" exclaimed the old peasant woman, crossing
herself. "She and I have lived down here during the bombardment and the
entire occupation. She has protected me. Look, Madame--" and she showed
us a corner of the ceiling that had been newly repaired. "The _obus_
passed through here, and never touched us. I kept on praying to the
Sainte, and she said, 'Do not move and you will be safe.' All night I
was on my knees before her, and toward morning the house was hit--only
one meter away the wall fell down, and we were not harmed, Madame,
neither the Sainte nor I. Then Sainte Claire said to me, 'The Boches are
coming. Take half of your potatoes and bring them down here.' I had a
beautiful pile of potatoes, Madame, just harvested. But I took only half
and put them in a sack and stuffed it with hay. For thirteen months,
Madame, I slept on those potatoes. Then Sainte Claire said, 'Take half
your wine, and put it down the well.' I wanted to hide it all, but she
said 'No, take only half.' And I sunk one hundred bottles, Madame, of my
best wine in the well. The Boches came. Five of them came to my house.
Five _grands gaillards_ with square heads. Oh, they are ugly, Madame!
'Show us your wine,' they ordered. 'It is there, Messieurs, in the
cellar,' I answered meek as a lamb. And they all began drinking till
they were drunk. Then one of them dragged me down here by the arm, and
for thirteen months, Madame, I lived in this hole with Sainte Claire