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Show "Tour men are not going with u to Paris. They are too much trouble. You'll Bud them Id the field east of town." And they saw them two hundred men and hoys lying riddled with bullets. bul-lets. Mudmne There found her husband hus-band and Paul with Andre between them and near them lay Pierre. In a cart, she carried them to the churchyard church-yard and there she made a prayer and buried them herself, for the" priest was among those who lay In the field. She moved about as one Id a dream, mechanically a tall blond-haired woman wom-an whose blue eyes seemed not to see, whose twisted lips were silent. Slowly the long days dragged for Madame There, living with others In a bouse not wholly gutted. But she had a task to perform. In the wreck of her home, she found the flat top of a table. She took It away with her and, secretly, she worked and scraped at it until it was smooth and clean. BELGIUM SKETCHES The Fire of Madame There By Katharine Eggleston Roberts. -. (Copyright, Western Newspaper Unlun) They marched Into a town of empty streets, closed doors, and drawn blinds those men with sharp spiked helmets. hel-mets. Their heavy tramp upon the cobble-stones resounded In the narrow rain-drenched lanes until they halted in the little square. Frightened eyes peeped from behind the shuttered windows win-dows watched yet dreaded to see. The Germans had taken Aerschot. As the heavy clouds blackened into night, the only lights were those made by the troops In the square. The house of Mathieu There was dark like the others. "Mother, let's light the lamp. It's so awful here in the dark." "No Andre, we mustn't. Be brave like your brothers. See, Pierre and Paul don't mind the dark, do you my sons?" Madam There put a reasurring arm about her youngest and felt his shoulders stiffen. The two boys stood with their father at the other window. "No, I don't mind the dark but 1 am hungry." Pierre was" two years older than Andre, too old to fear the dark and too young to fear the Germans. But Paul did nSt answer. He stood with his arm locked within his father's and stared out grimly at the moving silhouettes. His army had refused him just because he was a year or so too young. lvhnt rlifforonno did age m9U' He was as strong as any man and he might have been out fighting Instead of hiding here in the dark. The soldiers were stirring about and forming into small detachments. Their nelmets gleamed in the flickering light of the street lamps. A sharp order vas given. "They are coming," said Mathieu There. The butt of a gun thudded on the ptreet door. "Come out, come out where we can see you. Come out or you shall feel fire." "Let us go together. It Is all that we tan do." The father led his family fam-ily into the street. Quickly the narrow lanes filled as the houses emptied filled with people who dared not speak aloud. "Whst are they going to do?" "Where are we going?" "What are they doing now?" The terrified whispers ques- "- fyi ?v i ' I "Here Lies Mathieu There." On Dy one irregular letters grew and straggled over the board. The people who knew her wondered, and they whispered among themselves, "What is wrong with Hermine There? Surely Sure-ly her mind is gone." And the soldiers who saw her each day stepped aside to let her pass, for they feared the woman who never spoke with her lips but whose eyes burned into their souls. The sentry tramped up and down in the moonlight and his thoughts were far away. The same moon was shining shin-ing in Germany on a little village like this one and here he had to stay guarding guard-ing a cemetery where no one wanted to come and from which no one could go. At home he didn't see the crouching figure dart behind the hedge as he turned the corner. In the morn- iiWVQffffphh ft ft . vte?':;$ 'iml-i n After a Baptism of Flame and Shell. tioned. In the ill-lit streets, faces peered trying to recognize neighbors. Then came the order to march with upraised arms. Families were separated. sepa-rated. Lost babies cried. Women shrieked the names of their husbands and children. Everywhere was confusion. con-fusion. But in spite of it all, Mathieu and Madame There and their pons managed to keep together till the people peo-ple were herded Into the market-place before the church. A light was coming from somewhere behind them a light that grew redder and redder. "Mother, mother, what is it?" "Hush, Andre, I do not know." "It's the houses. They've fired the town." Paul's voice was thick. The crowd was ordered about. "You wouldn't have lights? Well you have them now," a German voice taunted "See them?" As the flames whipped o Ter the roofs, the soldiers went through the throng. "We are going to Paris," they said, "your men and boys must march ahead of us." Madame There stood as her husband and sons were marched away' stood with the other women gazing wide-eyed wide-eyed and mute. The flames of the town died down and the gray dawn came to the women huddled together In the -market place. The soldiers laughed into their grief-filled faces, "Go home." They said, "Go to your homes." Home! Madame There, scarcely knowing what she did, went to a heap of bricks and mortar facing the square. Part of a charred wall was standing and she started through Its sagging doorway. Suddenly there burst a fu-silade. fu-silade. She listened and again the shots rang out. She hurried to the square where other women ran about. "Our soldiers are coming to help us. They are fighting. Hear!" But no, it I could not be that for no more shots vere fired. 1 "Sh what is he saying?" ing, he wondered at the wooden tablet which seemed to have grown overnight: over-night: Here lie Mathieu There and his sons Paul, Pierre, and Andre, guiltless, murdered by the Boehe Barbarians. Madame There hurried to answer the sharp rap at the door. "Is this yours?" demanded the soldier. In his hand was the wooden tablet. "It Is mine." "Don't leave It about," he growled and flung it at her feet. "It will stay one day In spite of you," she cried. Day after day, he met her going to church. She became so worn and emaciated that it seemed only her spirit was alive, but it gleamed brightly bright-ly and more brightly In the flame of her eyes. And so the long time passed. Always the German soldier thought the fire of Madame There would surely sure-ly burn out, but daily her challenge scorched into his conscience. Then in the chill autumn, came word that was unbelievable. An armistice had been signed. The firing had stopped, and the Germans were ordered or-dered to leave Aerschot. For the last time the sentry guarded guard-ed the cemetery. For the first time the dawn flushed on a quiet world. As the light grew, the soldier looked about. What was that? He entered the churchyard. At the head of the four graves, the wooden mark stood firmly : Here lie Mathieu There and his sons Paul, Pierre, and Andre, guiltless, murdered by tli e Boche Barbarians. Across the graves lay Madame There and the fire was gone from her eyeg. |