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The French Twins

Lucy Fitch Perkins

— Twins Series —

NewlyRepublished

Edition!

Lucy Fitch Perkins takes you andyour children back to France duringthe First World War and into thelives of two nine year old twins, Pi-erre and Pierrette Meraut.

Children will be spell bound whilethey share the adventures and tribu-lations of the Meraut family in themidst of the German invasion.They will also get a glimpse ofFrench culture as well as gain someexposure to the French and Ger-man languages.

The French Twins is not only abeautifully illustrated and educa-tional book, but is truly a joy toread.

Praise for the French Twins

Published byBluewater Publications

Visit us on the web:B l u e w a t e r P u b l i c a t i o n s . c o m $13.95 U.S.

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THE FRENCH TWINS

By Lucy Fitch Perkins

Illustrated by the Author

Republished Edition

Published byBluewater Publications

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Original Copyright, 1918 by Lucy Fitch Perkins,

This Reprinted EditionCopyrighted 2008 by Bluewater Publications

All Rights Reserved, Including The Right to Reproduce This Book orParts Thereof In Any And All Forms By The Copyright Holder

www.Bluewa terPub l ica t ions . com

Note: Bluewater Publications is currently in the process of republishingall of the “Twins” series by Lucy Fitch Perkins. Please visit our websitefor more details.

ISBN: 978-1-934610-44-2

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CONTENTS

I. THE CHURCH AND THE PEOPLE ..................................1

II. ON THE WAY HOME......................................................15

III. THE COMING OF THE GERMANS .............................21

IV. THE RETURN OF THE FRENCH .................................29

V. AT MADAME COUDERT'S..............................................39

VI. THE BURNING OF THE CATHEDRAL ......................45

VII. HOME AGAIN ................................................................51

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VIII. REFUGEES.....................................................................57

IX. THE FOREIGN LEGION................................................63

X. FONTANELLE...................................................................69

XI. A SURPRISE......................................................................77

XII. MORNING IN THE MEADOW ...................................89

XIII. CHILDREN OF THE LEGION .................................101

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ForewordLucy Fitch Perkins was an author, illustrator and educator. She used herwritings and sketches as tools to further her educational mission.

Her artwork at first glance appears simple. However, once reflectedupon, one sees detail and expression. Faces tell a story. The faces of Mrs.Perkins characters depict the emotion of her writings like a mirror.

Her content is educational but delightful. Hand a child any one of Perkins’“Twins” books and you are not only giving that child “fun” you are alsogiving them learning. Learning and knowledge are the essential keys forgrowth. Make learning fun thereby nurturing a desire for knowledge. Themind is a terrible thing to waste; yet a beautiful thing to cultivate.

To our children,Bluewater Publications

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French Words and Phrases

Bon Dieu (Heavenly Father)

Bonjour (Good-day; hello; how do you do?)

château (castle)

combattre le Boche (fight the Boche)

grand'mere (grandmother)

grandpere (grandfather)

"Les Américains des États-Unis, duns l’uniforme de la France.

Mais maintenant nous exterminons le Boche." ("Americans from

the United States, in the uniform of France. Surely now

we shall crush out the Boche.")

Mille tonneurs! (Great heavens!)

Que voulez-vous? (What do you wish?)

Vive (Long live)

Vive la France (Long life to France!)

Vive tous les Meraut (Long life to all the Meraut family.)

"Auf Wiedersehen" (German: "Till we meet again," or "Good-

bye.")

"Lieb’ Vaterland, macht ruhig sein" (German national anthem:

"Dear Fatherland, be tranquil.")

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1

I. THE CHURCH AND THE

PEOPLE

he sunlight of the clear September afternoon shone acrossthe roofs of the City of Rheims, and fell in a yellow flood

upon the towers of the most beautiful cathedral in the world,turning them into two shining golden pillars against the deep blueof the eastern sky.

The streets below were already in shadow, but the sunshinestill poured through the great rose window above the westernportal, lighting the dim interior of the church with long shafts ofbrilliant reds, blues, and greens, and falling at last in a shower ofbroken color upon the steps of the high altar. Somewhere in themysterious shadows an unseen musician touched the keys of thegreat organ, and the voice of the Cathedral throbbed through itsechoing aisles in tremulous waves of sound. Above the deeptones of the bass notes a delicate melody floated, like a larksinging above the surf.

Though the great church seemed empty but for sound andcolor, there lingered among its shadows a few persons who lovedit well. There were priests and a few worshipers. There was alsoFather Varennes, the Verger, and far away in one of the smallchapels opening from the apse in the eastern end good MotherMeraut was down upon her knees, not praying as you mightsuppose, but scrubbing the stone floor. Mother Meraut was awise woman; she knew when to pray and when to scrub, andupon occasion did both with equal energy to the glory of Godand the service of his Church. Today it was her task to make thelittle chapel clean and sweet, for was not the Abbé coming toexamine the Confirmation Class in its catechism, and were not

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her own twochildren, Pierreand Pierrette,in the class? Intime to theheart-beats ofthe organ,Mother Merautswept herbrush back andforth, and itwas alreadynear the hourfor the class to

assemble when at last she set aside her scrubbing-pail, wiped herhands upon her apron, and began to dust the chairs which hadbeen standing outside the arched entrance, and to place them inorderly rows within the chapel.

She had nearly completed her task, when there was a tap-tapping upon the stone floor, and down the long aisle, leaningupon his crutch, came Father Varennes. He stopped near thechapel and watched her as she whisked the last chair into placeand then paused with her hands upon her hips to make a finalinspection of her work.

“Bonjour, Antoinette,” said the Verger.Mother Meraut turned her round, cheerful face toward him.

“Ah, it is you, Henri,” she cried, “come, no doubt, to see if thechapel is clean enough for the Abbé! Well, behold.”

The Verger peered through the arched opening, and sniffedthe wet, soapy smell which pervaded the air. “One might eveneat from your clean floor, Antoinette,” he said, smiling, “and

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taste nothing worsewith his food thana bit of soap. Trulythe chapel is asclean as a shrivensoul.”

“It's a bold bitof dirt that wouldtry to stand outagainst me,”declared MotherMeraut, with aflourish of herdust-cloth, “forwhen I go after it Ithink to myself,‘Ah, if I but hadone of thosedetestableGermans by thenose, how I wouldgrind it’ and the very thought brings such power to my elbow thatI check myself lest I wear through the stones of the floor.”

The Verger laughed, then shook his head. “Truly,Antoinette,” he said, “I believe you could seize your husband'sgun if he were to fall, and fill his place in the Army as well as youfill his place here in the Cathedral, doing a man’s work with awoman’s strength, and smiling as if it were but play! Our Francecan never despair while there are women like you.”

“My Jacques shall carry his own gun,” said Mother Meraut,stoutly, “and bring it home with him when the war is over, if Godwills, and may it be soon! Meanwhile I will help to keep our

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holy Cathedral clean as he used to do. It is not easy work, butone must do what one can, and surely it is better to do it withsmiles than with tears!”

The Verger nodded. “That is true,” he said, “yet it is hard tosmile in the face of sorrow.”

“But we must smile — though our hearts break — for France,and for our children, lest they forget joy!” cried Mother Meraut.She smiled as she spoke, though her lip trembled “I will you thetruth, Henri, sometimes when I think of what the Germans havealready done in Belgium, and may yet do in France, I feel myheart breaking in my bosom. And then I say to myself, ‘Courage,Antoinette! It is our business to live bravely for the France that isto be when this madness is over. Our armies are still between usand the Boche. It is not time to be afraid.’”

“And I tell you, they shall not pass,” cried Father Varennes,striking his crutch angrily upon the stone floor. “The bravesoldiers of France will not permit it! Oh, if I could but carry agun instead of this!” He rattled his crutch despairingly as hespoke.

Mother Meraut sighed. “Though I am a woman, I too wish Imight fight the invaders,” she said, “but since I may not carry agun, I will put all the more energy into my broom and sweep thedirt from the Cathedral as I would sweep the Germans back tothe Rhine if I could.”

“It is, indeed, the only way for women, children, and such asI,” grieved the Verger.

“Tut, tut,” answered Mother Meraut cheerfully, “it isn't givenus to choose our service. If God had wanted us to fight he wouldhave given us power to do it.”

The Verger shook his head. “I wish I were sure of that,” hesaid, “for there's going to be need for all the fighting blood inFrance if half one hears is true. They say now that the Germans

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are already far over the French border and that our Army isretreating before them. The roads are more than ever crowdedwith refugees, and the word they bring is that the Germans havealready reached the valley of the Aisne.”

“But that is at our very doors!” cried Mother Meraut. “It isabsurd, that rumor. Chicken hearts! They listen to nothing buttheir fears. As for me, I will not believe it until I must. I will trustin the Army as I do in my God and the holy Saints.”

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“Amen,” responded the Verger devoutly.At this moment the great western portal swung on its hinges, a

patch of light showed itself against the gloom of the interior ofthe Cathedral, and the sound of footsteps and of fresh youngvoices mingled with the tones of the organ.

“It's the children, bless their innocent hearts,” said MotherMeraut. “I hear the voices of my Pierre and Pierrette.”

“And I of my Jean,” said the Verger, starting hastily down theaisle. “The little magpies forget they must be quiet in the Houseof God!” He shook his finger at them and laid it warningly uponhis lips. The noise instantly subsided, and it was a silent anddemure little company that tiptoed up the aisle, bent the knee

before the altar, andthen filed pastMother Meraut intothe chapel which shehad made so clean.

Pierre andPierrette led theprocession, andMother Merautbeamed with pride asthey blew her a kissin passing. They werechildren that anymother might beproud of. Pierrettehad black, curlinghair and blue eyeswith long blacklashes, and Pierrewas a straight, tall,

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and manly-looking boy. The Twins were nine years old.Mother Meraut knew many of the children in the

Confirmation Class, for they were all schoolmates andcompanions of Pierre and Pierrette. There was Paul, the sore ofthe inn-keeper, with Marie, his sister. There was Victor, whosefather rang the Cathedral chimes. There were David andGeneviève, and Madeleine and Virginie and Étienne, and last ofall there was Jean, the Verger’s son — little Jean, the youngest inthe class. Mother Meraut nodded to them all as they passed.

Promptly on the first stroke of the hour the Abbé appeared inthe north transept of the Cathedral and made his way with quick,decided steps toward the chapel. He was a young man with thickdark hair almost concealed beneath his black three-corneredcap, and as he walked, his long black soutane swung about himin vigorous folds. When he appeared in the door of the chapelthe class rose politely to greet him. “Bonjour, my children,” saidthe Abbé, and then, turning his back upon them, bowed beforethe crucifix upon the chapel altar.

Mother Meraut and the Verger slipped quietly away to theirwork in other portions of the church, and the examinationbegan. First the Abbé asked the children to recite the Lord'sPrayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments in unison, andwhen they had done this without a mistake, he said “Bravo! NowI wonder if you can each do as well alone? Let me see, I will callupon —” He paused and looked about as if he were searching forthe child who was most likely to do it well.

Three girls — Geneviève, Virginie, and Pierrette — raised theirhands and waved them frantically in the air, but, curiouslyenough, the Abbé did not seem to see them. Instead his glancefell upon Pierre, who was gazing thoughtfully at the vaultedceiling and hoping with all his heart that the Abbé would not callupon him. “Pierre!” he said, and any one looking at him very

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closely might have seen atwinkle in his eye as Pierrewithdrew his gaze from theceiling and struggled reluctantlyto his feet. “You may recite theTen Commandments.”

Pierre began quite glibly,“Thou shalt have no other godsbefore me,” and went on, withonly two mistakes and one longwait, until he had reached thefifth. “Thou shalt not kill,” herecited, and then to save his lifehe could not think what camenext. He gazed imploringly atthe ceiling again, and at the high

stained-glass window, but they told him nothing. He kickedbackward gently, hoping that Pierrette, who sat next, wouldprompt him, but she too failed to respond. “I'll ask a question,”thought Pierre desperately, “and while the Abbé is answeringmaybe it will come to me.” Aloud he said: “If you please, yourreverence, I don't understand about that commandment. It says,‘Thou shalt not kill,’ and yet our soldiers have gone to war onpurpose to kill Germans, and the priests blessed them as theymarched away!”

This was indeed a question! The class gasped withastonishment at Pierre's boldness in asking it. The Abbé pauseda moment before answering. Then he said, “If you, Pierre, wereto shoot a man in the street in order to take his purse, would thatbe wrong?”

“Yes,” answered the whole class.

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“Very well,” said the Abbé, “so it would. But if you shouldsee a murderer attack your mother or your sister, and you shouldkill him before he could carry out his wicked purpose, wouldthat be just the same thing?”

“No,” wavered the class, a little doubtfully.“If instead of defending your mother or sister you were

simply to stand aside and let the murderer kill them both, youwould really be helping the murderer, would you not? It is likethat today in France. An enemy is upon us who seeks to kill usso that he may rob us of our beautiful homeland. God sees ourhearts. He knows that the soldiers of France go forth not to killGermans but to save France! not wantonly to take life, butbecause it is the only way to save lives for which they themselvesare ready to die. Ah, my children, it is one thing to kill as amurderer kills; it is quite another to be willing to die that othersmay live! Our Blessed Lord —”

The Abbé lifted his hand to make the sign of the Cross — butit was stayed in mid-air. The sentence he had begun was neverfinished, for at that moment the great bell in the Cathedral towerbegan to ring. It was not the clock striking the hour; it was not thechimes calling the people to prayer. Instead, it was the terriblesound of the alarm bell ringing out a warning to the people ofRheims that the Germans were at their doors.

Wide-eyed with terror, the children sprang from their seats,but the Abbé, with hand uplifted, blocked the entrance andcommanded them to stay where they were.

“Let no one leave the Cathedral,” he cried.At this instant Mother Meraut appeared upon the threshold

searching for her children, and behind her, coming as fast as hislameness would permit, came the Verger. The Abbé turned tothem. “I leave these children all in your care,” he said. “Stay withthem until I return.”

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And without another word he disappeared in the shadows.Mother Meraut sat down on one of the chairs she had dusted

so carefully, and gathered the frightened children about her as ahen gathers her chickens under her wing. “There, now,” she saidcheerfully, as she wiped their tears upon the corner of her apron,“let’s save our tears until we really know what we have to cry for.There never yet was misery that couldn’t be made worse bycrying, anyway. The boys will be brave, of course, whateverhappens. And the girls — surely they will remember that it was agirl who once saved France, and meet misfortune bravely, likeour blessed Saint Jeanne d’Arc."

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The Cathedral organ had ceased to fill the great edifice withsweet and inspiring sounds. Instead, there now was only themuffled tread of marching feet, the rumble of heavy wheels, andthe low, ominous beating of drums to break the stillness.

Mother Meraut and the children waited obediently in thechapel, scarcely breathing in their suspense, while FatherVarennes went tap-tapping up and down the aisles eagerlywatching for the Abbé to reappear. At last he came. MotherMeraut, the Verger, and the children all crowded about him,waiting breathlessly for him to speak.

The Abbé was pale, but his voice was firm. “I have been tothe north tower,” he said, “and there I could see for miles inevery direction. Far away to the east and north are massed thehordes of the German Army; they are coming toward Rheims asa thunder-cloud comes rolling over the sky. Between us andthem is our Army, but alas, their faces are turned this way. Theyare retreating before the German hosts! Already French troopsare marching through Rheims; already the streets are filled withpeople who are fleeing from their homes for fear of the Boche.Unless God sends a miracle, our City is indeed doomed, for atime at least, to wear the German yoke.”

He paused, and the children burst into wild weeping. MotherMeraut hushed them with comforting words. “Do not cry, mydarlings,” she said. “God is not dead, and we shall yet live to seejustice done and our dear land restored to us. The soldiers nowin the streets are all our own brave defenders. We shall be ableto go in safety, even though in sorrow, to our homes.”

“Come,” said the Abbé, “there is no time to lose. Our Armywill, without doubt, make a stand on the plains west of the City,and it will not be long before the Germans pass through. Youmust go to your homes as fast as possible. Henri, you remainhere with your Jean, that you may meet any of the parents who

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come for their children. Tell them I have gone with them myselfand will deliver each child safely at his own door.”

“I can take cart of my own,” said Mother Meraut. “You needhave no fear for us.”

“Very well,” said the Abbé, and, calling the rest of thechildren about him, he marched them down the aisle and outinto the street.

Mother Meraut followed with Pierre and Pierrette. At thedoor they paused and stood for a moment under the greatsculptured arches to survey the scene before them. The greatsquare before the Cathedral was filled with people, someweeping, others standing about as if dazed by sorrow. Betweenthe silent crowds which lined the sidewalks passed the soldiers,grim and with set faces, keeping time to the throbbing of thedrums as they marched. Above the scene, in the center of thesquare, towered the beautiful statue of Jeanne d’Arc, mountedupon her charger and lifting her sword toward the sky.

“Ah,” murmured Mother Meraut to herself, “our blessedMaid still keeps guard above the City!” She lifted her claspedhands toward the statue. “Blessed Saint Jeanne,” she prayed,“hear us in Paradise, and come once more to save our beautifulFrance!”

Then, waving a farewell to the Verger and Jean, who hadfollowed them to the door, she took her children by the handand plunged with them into the sad and silent crowd.

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