There was little difference between day and night.

After it had been quiet for an hour or so, Madame Lelanne would go out, to return a little later with a wounded man upon her back; and when one died, she would throw him across her shoulder and disappear again up the steps.

Sometimes it was a Frenchman and sometimes a German she brought in.

One gathered that the fight for the village still continued.

There was but little they could do for them beyond dressing their wounds and easing their pain.