s. What one could not do the other could.

As they walked along now they said but little. Each was striving to read
what he could in that great book, the streets of Paris. John believed
Lannes had not yet told him his whole mission. He knew that in their
short stay in Paris Philip had spent an hour in the office of the
military governor of the city, and his business must be of great
importance to require an hour from a man who carried such a fearful
weight of responsibility. But whatever Lannes' secret might be, it was
his own and he had no right to pry into it. If the time came for his
comrade to tell it he would do so.

When they reached the Seine the city did not seem so quiet. They heard
the continuous sound of marching troops and people were still departing
through the streets toward the country or the provincial cities. The
flight went on by night as well as day, and John again felt the
overwhelming pity of it.

He wondered what the French generals and their English allies would do?
Did they have any possible way of averting this terrible crisis? They
had met nothing but defeat, and the vast German army had crashed,
unchecked, through everything from the border almost to the suburbs of
Paris.

They stood in the Place Valhubert at the entrance to the Pont
d'Austerlitz, and watched a regiment crossing the river, the long blue
coats and red trousers of the men outlined against the white body of the
bridge. The soldiers were short, they looked little to John, but they
were broad of chest and they marched splendidly with a powerful swinging
stride.

"From the Midi," said Lannes. "Look how dark they are! France is called
a Latin nation, but I doubt whether the term is correct. These men of
the Midi though are the real Latins. We of northern France, I suspect,
are more Teutonic than anything else, but we are all knitted together in
one race, heart and soul, which are stronger ties than blood."

"We are to go early in the morning, are we not, Philip?"

"Yes, early. The _Arrow_ is at the hangar, all primed and eager for a
flight, fearful of growing rusty from a long rest."

"I believe you actually look upon your plane as a human being."

"A human being, yes, and more. No human being could carry me above the
clouds. No human being could obey absolutely and without question the
simplest touch of my hand. The _Arrow_ is not human, John, it is
superhuman. You have seen its exploits."

The dark emitted a figure that