burning a deep red, and this is what she said: "I will not live
like this another day. Life in Rheims is no longer possible. I
will not stay here to be killed by inches. I have made
arrangements to get a little row-boat, and to-morrow morning we
will take such things as we can carry and leave this place.
Whatever may happen to us elsewhere, it cannot be worse than what
is happening here, and it may possibly be better."

Her husband and children looked at her in amazement. She did not
ask their opin- ion about the matter, but promptly began the
necessary preparations and told them what to do. Clothing was
brought to Father Meraut to be packed in compact bundles and tied
up with string. Then blankets were made into another bundle; a
third held a frying-pan, a coffee-pot, and a kettle, with a few
knives, forks, and spoons, while a fourth contained food. The
Twins were sent to say good-by to Madame Coudert, and to give her
a key to the door, and then all the rest of their household goods
were packed away as carefully as time permitted, in the cellar.

Mother Meraut put the Twins to bed early, but she herself
remained at work most of the night; yet when morning came and the
children woke, she was up and neatly dressed, and had their
breakfast ready. She did not linger over their sad departure, nor
did she shed a tear as they left the little house which had been
their happy home. Instead, she locked the door after them with a
snap, put the key in her pocket, and walked down the steps with
the grim determination of a soldier going into battle, carrying a
big bundle under each arm.