NYARUSHISHI, Rwanda -- Under the protective guns of 40 French paratroopers, 8,000 Tutsi survivors on a lush green hill here in southwestern Rwanda attended Mass for the first time since their agony at the hands of Hutu militiamen began in early April. The biggest remaining concentration of Rwanda's minority in the Hutu government-held southwest Sunday celebrated their deliverance two days ago by French troops amid clapping, dancing and choruses of "Thank the Lord because we survived.""You were thinking that in this time of killing God does not exist," the Reverend Oscar Nduwayezu told worshipers. "But my message today is that even in the worst situations God can provide consolation to those who believe in Him."He did not say the French provide protection around the clock for the terraced rows of rudimentary plastic-sheeted lean-tos composing the camp in this 1,800-meter-high tea plantation near Lake Kivu. He did not have to. The paratroopers' presence was ample evidence for the much-relieved Tutsis who feared they might join the hundreds of thousands of others -- the vast majority fellow tribal members -- killed in what human rights organizations have denounced as "genocide."When the French soldiers arrived here Friday, Hutu militiamen had been gathering on nearby hills, apparently preparing for attack. "If they attack anyone -- our men to start with -- or the population, we will react violently," said Colonel Didier Thibaut, speaking of any potential aggressors. "No quarter will be given."The killing began April 7, the day after Rwanda's president died in a suspicious plane crash. Roving bands of Hutu government militiamen, blaming Tutsis for the crash, conducted wholesale slaughter against members of the ethnic group; a predominately Tutsi rebel force restarted their three-year-old civil war to try to stop the killing; and more than 350,000 refugees fled into neighboring Tanzania. Last week, France became the first foreign country to send in troops to protect the Tutsis and the distribution of food to them. Senegal complied with a French request for assistance and sent a small contingent as well. With everything from jet fighter bombers to armored cars arriving in growing numbers at nearby airports in Zaire, France is determined to project an image of force amid hope that its troops will not have to employ it to stop the killing. But the French government wants its troops out of Rwanda by the end of next month, raising the possibility that the Tutsis may again be at risk unless the United Nations finds other countries willing to send soldiers to take their place. Crowds of children greeted French troops and visitors with cries of "Barihinye" -- "I am happy" in Kinyarwanda, the language of Rwanda in addition to French. But some camp residents said the two-dozen Rwandan gendarmes patrolling the camp had expressed anger with recent interviews with survivors broadcast over French radio and heard locally. "They said we were wrong to repeat all the horror stories," said Silas Munyankinde, 32, a primary-school teacher. He was among the Tutsi refugees here who apparently did not realize the dangers he could incur for having given his name during an interview.Yet, he noted, he owed his life initially to a Hutu friend in a nearby village who had sheltered him when the killing began. The slaughter did not come as a complete surprise, he added."We saw the Hutu militia preparing in the hills and knew something evil would happen," he said. "They were throwing lances, doing karate exercises."After a week of wandering from village to village seeking safety, he and thousands of reached Cyangugu, near the Zairian border, and sought refuge in the Roman Catholic cathedral there. Soon they were transferred to a nearby stadium. "Loudspeakers would call out the names of judges, teachers, civil servants of all kinds. Educated men and women, anyone who was well-dressed or tall and thin," Munyankinde said, referring to physical characteristics generally associated with Tutsis. "None ever came back."At one point in May, the Tutsis decided to break out of the stadium and head for the border with Zaire, less than two miles to the west. The militia was waiting with grenades, clubs, spears and their weapon of choice, machetes. "Four hundred of us were killed," Munyankinde said, "and the rest forced back into the stadium." Eventually, the Red Cross prevailed upon local Hutu government officials to transfer the Tutsis to this hillside. Marie Uwabakira, 34, lost her husband, an agronomist, within days of the onslaught, then two of her four children on April 29, when the Hutu militia broke into a nearby church where thousands of Tutsis were sheltering. Only 400 survived the slaughter, she said. She was left for dead by her assailants. A machete sliced through the bridge of her nose. Her swollen right cheek was covered by a dirty bandage. As a group of 30 other men and women nodded in agreement, Uwabakira said: "The day will come when the Hutus will discover that we, too, are God's creatures. But even if some have bad hearts, I do not want to create strength within me to seek revenge. "That would just mean more fighting and killing."