ivined John's thoughts.

"You'll find it more cheerful, presently," he said. "As for us, we're
used to it, and we love it, although it's so old and cold and dark. It
goes back at least five centuries."

"I suppose some king must have slept here once," said John. "In England
they point out every very old house as a place where a king passed the
night, and make reverence accordingly."

Lannes laughed gayly.

"No king ever slept here so far as I know," he said, "but the great
Marshal Lannes, whose name I am so proud to bear, was in this house more
than once, and to me, a staunch republican, that is greater than having
had a king for a tenant. The Marshal, as you may know, although he took
a title and served an Emperor, was always a republican and in the early
days of the empire often offended Napoleon by his frankness and brusque
truths. But enough of old things; we'll see my mother."

He led the way up the steps, of solid stone, between walls thick enough
for a fortress, and knocked at a door. A deep, full voice responded
"Enter!" and pushing open the door Lannes went in, followed by John.

It was a large room, with long, low windows, looking out over a sea of
roofs toward the dome of the Invalides and Napoleon's arch of triumph. A
tall woman rose from a chair, and saying "My son!" put her hands upon
Lannes shoulders and kissed him on the forehead. She was fair like her
son, and much less than fifty years of age. There was no stoop in her
shoulders and but little gray in her hair. Her eyes were anxious, but
John saw in them the Spartan determination that marked the women of
France.

"My friend, John Scott, of whom I have already spoken to you, Madame my
mother," said Lannes.

John bowed. He knew little of French customs, particularly in the heart
of a French family, and he was afraid to extend his hand, but she gave
him hers, and let it rest in his palm a moment.

"Philip has told me much of you," she said in her deep, bell-like voice,
"and although I know little of your far America, I can believe the best
of it, if its sons are like you."

John flushed at the compliment, which he knew to be so sincere.

"Thank you, Madame," he said. "While my country can take no part in this
war, many of my countrymen will fight with you. France helped us once,
and some of us, at least, will help France now."

She smiled gravely, and John knew that he was welcome in her house.
Lannes would see to that anyhow, but he wished