the sacristy, their lonely hearts so ached for care and
protection, and his face looked so kind and pitiful, that they
almost dared to make their presence known and to ask for the help
they sorely needed. Marie, bolder than Jan, half rose as he
passed, but Jan pulled her back, and in another instant the door
had closed behind him and he was gone.

"Oh," sobbed Marie under her breath, "he looked so kind! He might
have helped us. Why did you pull me back?"

"How could we let him see Fidel, and tell him that our dog had
slept all night before the altar?" answered Jan. "I shouldn't
dare! He is a great Prince of the Church!"

The sound of scraping chairs told them that the little
congregation had risen from its knees and was passing out of the
church. They waited until every one had disappeared through the
great door, and then made a swift flight down the echoing aisle
and out into the sunlight. For a moment they stood hand in hand
upon the cathedral steps, clasping their bundle and waiting for
the next turn of fortune's wheel.

The bright sunlight of the summer day, shining on the open
square, almost blinded them, and what they saw in the square,
when their eyes had become used to it, did not comfort them.
Everywhere there were German soldiers with their terrible
bayonets and pointed helmets and their terrible songs. Everywhere
there were pale and desperate Belgians fleeing before the
arrogant German invader.