Her Father opened his eyes and smiled. "Ah, little one, what is a
leg more or less;--or a life either for that matter,--when our
France is in danger?" he said. "Is it not so, Pierre?"

Pierre gulped. "France can have all of my legs!" he cried, in a
burst of patriotism. "And when I'm big enough, I'm going to dig a
hole in the ground and put in millions of tons of dynamite and
blow up the whole of Germany! That's what I'm going to do!"

His Father's eyes twinkled. "It seems a long while to wait," he
said, "because now you are only nine, you see."

Just then their Mother came toward the little group. "Magpies!"
she cried, " it seems that you are talking my patient to death.
Run along now to Madame Coudert." At the Cathedral entrance she
kissed them, and then stood for a moment to watch them as they
hurried down the street out of sight.



VI. THE BURNING OF THE CATHEDRAL

On the evening of the 18th of September, Mother Meraut was late
in leaving the Cathedral, and it was nearly dark when she reached
Madame Coudert's door. Pierrette sat on the steps waiting for
her, with Fifine, the cat, in her arms. Madame Coudert was
knitting, as usual, and Pierre was trying to teach the little
raveled-out dog to stand on his hind legs. As their Mother
appeared, the children sprang to meet her.