In the midst of a profound silence the Colonel read L’Ordre du Jour, which, by King Albert’s command, conferred upon the fallen Guide the Order of Leopold—for valour—and the bereaved wife was given the decoration to pin over the cold heart that had been so warmly hers. There was a muffled roll of drum, and all present sang the “Brabançonne.” So much for the comfort which the world could still give.
Next morning the funeral Mass was said at the altar. The bier lay at the foot of the step, so close that each time the priest turned round to say Dominus vobiscum, his hands were uplifted over the dead. And the widow and all the officers of the regiment kneeling round received Holy Communion for, and in memory of, the slain.
It is not possible—although we know her grief to be as ardent as was her attachment to him—that this widow can mourn as those who have no hope.
The chaplain of the regiment told her that her husband had been to Confession and Holy Communion the morning he had entered into the trenches, three days before. “Have no fear, my child,” said the priest, “he made his Confession as he did everything, with all his heart.”
Blessed religion, which across the deathbed shows us the heavens opening for the departed soul, and bids the holy angel guard even the grave where rests the body, hallowed for the resurrection!
VI
BABIES: CHINESE AND OTHERS
“In how several ways do we speak to our dogs, and they answer us!”—Michel de Montaigne.
The war-baby was very dear and downy when we first saw her.