BEFORE a statue of Joan of Arc, in a little country church, a child knelt in prayer.
OH protect my papa-the little one prayed.
SHE lighted a candle-offered it to the Maid of France.
* * * * *
A YOUNG girl prayed at the feet of the Saint. She burned a candle.
FOR ANDRé-for his safety.
THE invaders entered the village,-heeding neither church nor ground of the dead.
THEY ripped open shallow graves to show the living they had power-even over those who had gone. They killed the priest. And the nuns, even, from the school.
THEY damaged.
DESTROYED-
THE church caught fire. The candles, burning before the Saint of Domremy, blazed into one huge flame. It shot up to the roof. And seemed to cry-
O JOAN OF ARC-come back-France needs you.
* * * * *
THE child-
AN Angel of Heaven
THE young girl who had prayed for André-two officers had taken her.
SHE struggled-
A SWORD-
THE flames of the burning village had revealed it.
MONSIEUR L'ABBé had said suicide was sin-but surely God would forgive-
SHE pierced the sword into her white flesh-blood flowed to the ground.
LITTLE FOOL muttered the maddened officer.
HE went back to the village-for more destroying.
A STONE from a burning house-
HE died with an oath.
BUT André, weeks before, had died with prayer upon his lips-a thought for his sweet betrothed.