South Bend news-times. (South Bend, Ind.) 1913-1938, 1915-07-02
Tragic Scenes
With the Wounded.

Another time cond icted celebrated visitor
to a "tirailleur' "a part of the colonial infan-
try who leave the ranks in action and fight
individuality This "tirailleur" had had his
right arm amputated. l said, "he is an Alger
IAN" The wounded looked at me re-
proachfully with his great soft eyes, saying:
Don't say Algerian, madame, me French, me
give arm for France"
Another time / was with another Algerian;
this one was about to die; nothing could
him. I was trying to soften his agony. He
let me go on awhile, then suddenly stopped
me with the melancholy childish accent of
the Arabs, saying: Don't bother about me any
more, madame All over Me dead IN two
hours. Me just as happy as if get we'll Thee
write my mother that" l wrote his mother.
She replied: "He has served ance we'll. AL
lab has taken him to his ,.o~st."
What 1 have scent 1 have seen Paris un-
der the Teutonic shadow cast from the north.
Three days, opening my windows at dawn.
| anxiously listened for the expected rumble
of the cannonading. Nothing 1t will
be soon, this evening, tomorrow | said
Everything in my threatened city became
sacred to me. For me to die, that was moth
ing. But for Paris to be destroyed; my Paris!
the city that cannot be described; cannot be
explained! l couldn't stand that / burst out
weeping in the deserted streets, leaning per-
chance against a humble and old house. This
mere relic had feelings, regrets. like the most
sublime monuments.
The gravest day dawned. Those who only
stayed in Paris for the pleasure they receive
from it, and those who have children to take
care Of were Fastening toward the stations
crowding into automobiles. 1 stayed there.
Ny heart wrung with agony, drifted through
my ordinary occupations. Then the unbe-
hevable happened. AS ] was crossing the
Place de la Madeleine, in a semi-dazed con-
dition, a little boy, about five or elk years
old, ran up to me and gave me slip of paper.
/ saw distractedly that he was decently dressed
and had large blue eyes. l automatically
opened the paper. The following unheard Of
Hrase was typewriter on it: France is in
VlcibIe."
/ turned toward the child: who gave you
that?"
MADAME" said the little one raising his
head with a look that grand, immense.
I'VE wrote them ourselves, all night" Tears
filed MY eyes; | had presentment they we're
tears of deliverance. So, while We knew the
Uhlans were in Chantilly, while in the hearts
of the grOwn-up people horror placed its
claws on faith, on hope, there was a little
child with immense blue eyes, who knew moth
ing, like the good shepherds. St. Genevieve and
Joan of Arc, but who knew that France was
invincible" and who passed the night writing
it.
Yes, the miracle that saved Paris was re-
vealed to us. But there was another miracle.
something imponderabe, which was the soul
. of the little boy with his eyes of ligh6-which
is the soul of Paris.
Paris even during those hours did not
lose its sweet disposition of smiling indepepd
ence And ii among the children that
found the most touching proofs. One day
at the hour when the German aviators were
storlning Paris with bombs-we called it
five o'clock taube-I went out with friend