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Page 15
"Do you know positively that they have a million and a half?" asked
Lannes.
"I did not count them," replied Weber, smiling a little, "but I have
heard from many certain sources that such are their numbers. I fear,
gentlemen, that Paris is doomed."
"Scott and I don't think so," said Lannes firmly. "We've gained new
courage today."
Weber was silent for a few moments. Then he said, giving Lannes his
title as an officer:
"I've heard of you, Lieutenant Lannes. Who does not know the name of
France's most daring aviator? And doubtless you have information which
is unknown to me. It is altogether likely that one who pierces the air
like an eagle should bear messages between generals of the first rank."
Lannes did not answer, but looked at Weber, who smiled.
"Perhaps our trades are not so very different," said the Alsatian, "but
you shoot through clouds while I crawl on the ground. You have a great
advantage of me in method."
Lannes smiled back. The little tribute was pleasing to the dramatic
instinct so strong in him.
"You and I, Mr. Weber," he said, "know enough never to speak of what
we're going to do. Now, we'll bid you good night and wish you good luck.
I'd like to be a prophet, even for a day only, and tell what the morrow
would bring."
"So do I," said Weber, "and I must hurry on my own errand. It may not
be of great importance, but is vital to me that I do it."
He slid away in the darkness and both John and Lannes spoke well of him
as they returned to the house. Picard admitted them.
"May I ask, sir, if there is any news that favors France?" he said to
Philip.
"Not yet, my good Antoine, but it is surely coming."
John heard the giant Frenchman smother a sigh, but he made no comment,
and walked softly with Lannes to the little room high up that had been
assigned to him. Here when he was alone with his candle he looked around
curiously.
The room was quite simple, not containing much furniture, in truth,
nothing of any note save on the wall a fine picture of the great Marshal
Lannes, Napoleon's dauntless fighter, and stern republican, despite the
ducal title that he took. It was a good portrait, painted perhaps by
some great artist, and John holding up the candle, looked at it a long
time.
He thought he could trace some likeness to Philip. Lannes' face was
always stern, in repose, far beyond his years, although when he became
animated it had all the sunniness of youth. But he noticed now that he
had the same tight lips of the Marshal, and the same unfaltering eyes.
"Duke of Montebello!" said John to himself. "Well, you won that title
grandly, and while the younger Lannes may do as well, if the chance
comes to him, the new heroes of France will be neither dukes nor
princes."
Then, after removing all the stiff pillows, inclines, foot pieces and
head pieces that make European beds so uncomfortable, he slipped between
the covers, and slid quickly into a long and soothing sleep, from which
he was awakened apparently about a minute later by Lannes himself, who
stood over him, dressed fully, tall and serious.
"Why, I just got into bed!" exclaimed John.
"You came in here a full seven hours ago. Open your window and you'll
see the dawn creeping over Paris."
"Thank you, but you can open it yourself. I never fool with a European
window. I haven't time to master all the mechanism, inside, outside and
between, to say nothing of the various layers of curtains, full length,
half length and otherwise. Nothing that I can conceive of is better
fitted than the European window to keep out light and air."
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