would never be a doubt
about its completeness."

"No, never a doubt. Have you picked your port?"

"'Port' is a good enough place. We'll land on that little park, squarely
in the center of the population."

"You're truly in love with the dramatic. You want an audience whenever
it's safe."

"I admit it. There is something about the old Roman triumph that would
have made a mighty appeal to me. Think of a general, young, brilliant,
garlanded, coming into Rome along the Appian Way, with the chariots
before him, the captive princes behind him, miles of beautiful young
girls covered with roses, on either side, and then the noble villas, and
the patricians looking down from the porticoes, the roar of Rome's
thunderous million acclaiming him, and then the Capitoline with the
grave and reverend senators, and the vestals and the pontifex maximus,
and all the honors for the victory which his brain and courage have won
for the state."

"I'm not so sure that I'd like it, Philip."

"'De gustibus non disputandum,' as somebody wrote, John. Well, here we
are, settling down gently in the place something or other, and just as I
told you all the people are around it, with their eyes and mouths wide
open."

The aeroplane settled softly upon the grass amid great and sincere
cheers, and John looked about curiously. He had returned to the world
from space, a space inhabited only by Lannes, himself and the two
Germans, one of whom was now dead. That pocket in the mountain had not
counted. It was like a bird's nest in a tree, and this was the solid,
planetary world, upon which he had once dwelled.

An elderly man of fine appearance, and with a long brown beard, reaching
almost to his waist, stepped forward. Lannes lifted the cap and glasses
that hid his head and face and greeted him in French.

"It is I, Philip Victor Auguste Lannes, Heir Schankhorst," he said
politely. "You will remember me because I've dropped out of the skies
into your village before. The young gentleman with me is one of those
strange creatures called Yankees, who come from far across the ocean,
and who earn money by the sweat of their brows in order that we may take
it from them."

There was such a mellow tone in his voice, and the friendly gleam in his
eyes was so wonderful that neither Herr Schankhorst nor his people could
resist him. It seemed that most of them understood French as they raised
another cheer, and crowded around the two men of the sky, plainly