I went out. I saw
some enemy cyclists, armed with fragments of stone, breaking in one of
the cathedral doors, another, with a hatchet, attacking the belfry door.
At the sight of me, they rushed at me with their revolvers, demanding
that I should take them to the top of the belfry. 'You have a machine
gun there!' 'Nothing of the sort, monsieur. See for yourselves.' I
unlocked the door, and just as I put my foot on the first step, the
fusillade in the town began. The soldiers started. 'You are our
prisoner!' cried their chief, turning to me, as though to seize me.
"'I know it. You have me in your hands.' I went up before them, as
quickly as my age allowed. They searched everywhere, and, of course,
found nothing. They ran down and disappeared."
But that was not the end of the Abbe's trouble. He was presently sent
for to the German Headquarters, at the Hotel du Grand Cerf, where the
table spread for thirty people, by the order of M. Odent, was still
waiting for its guests. The conversation here between the Cure and the
officer of high rank who spoke to him is worth repeating.
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