"My dear Capitaine! How glad I am to see you once more—you are as welcome as your name."
"These are some very dear friends of mine, Sister Paulo," Jack cried, after he had introduced us individually, "and we have come to you in distress—we poor sons of men have no place to lay our heads."
"Ah!" said Sister Paulo, with a gracious smile, "perhaps we shall now have an opportunity of doing you a little kindness for your many, many goodnesses to us." She turned to us and continued: "You see, Capitaine Wellcombe risked his life to save ours. He came to our Convent in Ypres during the night of that frightful battle, when the shells were falling in thousands about us, and the city was in ruins. One big shell tore through the wall and fell into the building—I shall never forget the horror of that night! The streets were lit up by fires, and the noise was awful beyond words. We were distracted—we seemed to have been forgotten by every one, when suddenly Captain Wellcombe came like an angel from above and climbed in through the rent in the wall. One by one he carried us out in his arms and put us in an ambulance. He took us through those dreadful streets and brought us here to safety. He is a brave man, and every night we pray for his protection."
For once in his life Jack looked embarrassed, and blushed like a school-girl. "Sister Paulo exaggerates, I'm afraid," he said, in some confusion. "It seemed more dangerous than it really was."
"You may make light of it, if you wish, my dear Capitaine," Sister Paulo replied, holding up a reproving finger, "but you can never make it to us less than the act of a brave and noble man!"
She left us for a space, but shortly returned to tell us that our rooms were ready and that we were thrice welcome to what accommodation their poor house afforded. We were ushered upstairs and along a narrow hall in which we met several Belgian officers, who bowed low as we passed. Jack was given a small room to himself.
When Reggy and the colonel and I arrived at the room which was pointed out as ours for the night we met a tall Belgian officer coming out of it. We grasped the situation on the instant. These officers, who had been hastily aroused, were, with their remarkable courtesy and native hospitality, actually giving up their beds to us. The others had already disappeared down the stairs, and this officer too would have passed us with a bow, but we arrested him and protested that he must on no account deprive himself of his room.
"But you are not disturbing me in the least," he replied in French; "you are doing me a great pleasure by accepting my bed."
We assured him that we should be able to find accommodation somewhere, and that we felt very guilty for having been the cause of so much inconvenience.
"My dear sirs," he protested feelingly, "there is but a very small corner of Belgium left to us; there is so little opportunity for us to offer hospitality to a guest, that when such an occasion as this arises where we have the honour of accommodating our English friends—it would be unkind if you denied us this poor privilege."