entire range of our vision it was the only object
that had not been violently disturbed. No
wonder there were flowers at its base and flags at
the pedestal. No wonder the inhabitants had
devised a prayer and printed it and placed it on
the iron railing at the front. We read it with a
thrill.
"Joan of Arc—Pray for us—Bring to France the victory."
We turned away to be taught under the guidance of our staff officer that the ruin in Rheims isn't limited to the vicinity of the cathedral. We wandered with him through the gardens of the archbishop's palace, staring at the ghosts of that structure nearly as famous as the cathedral itself. Roses were in bloom along the hedges. There seemed a design about their growth in such a place, a mockery of the Prussian spirit of conquest, a reminder of the indestructibility of the soul of beauty.
We wandered sadly through the best residential district of the city. The few houses that were still serviceable were marked with numerals.
"The number of people the cellars will hold," the officer explained.
While the greater proportion of the population had left or had been killed, those that remained
