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Page 6
"I must talk with Father Pelletier," said John. "Until you're a great
man, as you're going to be, Geronimo, I suppose I can be spokesman.
After that it will be your part to befriend me."
On the second platform they found Father Pelletier, a tall young priest
with a fine but severe face, who looked with curiosity at John, and with
disapproval at the Apache.
"You are Father Pelletier, I believe," said John with his disarming
smile. "These are unusual times, but I wish to go up into the lantern. I
am an American, though, as you can see by my uniform, I am a soldier of
France."
"But your companion, sir? He has a bad reputation in the quarter. When
he should come to the church he does not, and now when he should not he
does."
"That reputation of which you speak, Father Pelletier, will soon pass.
Another, better and greater will take its place. Our friend here, and
perhaps both of us will be proud to call him so some day, leaves soon to
fight for France."
The priest looked again at Bougainville, and his face softened. The
little Apache met his glance with a firm and open gaze, and his figure
seemed to swell again, and to radiate strength. Perhaps the priest saw
in his eyes the same spark that John had noticed there.
"It is a time when France needs all of her sons," he said, "and even
those who have not deserved well of her before may do great deeds for
her now. You can pass."
Bougainville walked close to Father Pelletier, and John heard him say in
low tones:
"I feel within me the power to achieve, and when you see me again you
will recognize it."
The priest nodded and his friendly hand lay for a moment on the other's
shoulder.
"Come on, Geronimo," said John cheerfully. "As I remember it's nearly a
hundred steps into the lantern, and that's quite a climb."
"Not for youth like ours," exclaimed Bougainville, and he ran upward so
lightly that the American had some difficulty in following him. John was
impressed once more by his extraordinary strength and agility, despite
his smallness. He seemed to be a mass of highly wrought steel spring.
But unwilling to be beaten by anybody, John raced with him and the two
stood at the same time upon the utmost crest of the Basilique du
Sacr�-Coeur.
They paused a few moments for fresh breath and then John put the glasses
to his eye, sweeping them in a slow curve. Through the powerful lenses
he saw the vast circle of Paris, and all the long story of the past that
it called up. Two thousand years of history rolled beneath his feet, and
the spectacle was wholly magnificent.
He beheld the great green valley with its hills, green, too, the line of
the Seine cutting the city apart like the flash of a sword blade, the
golden dome of the Hotel des Invalides, the grinning gargoyles of Notre
Dame, the arches and statues and fountains and the long green ribbons
that marked the boulevards.
Although the city stood wholly in the sunlight a light haze formed on
the rim of the circling horizon. He now moved the glasses slowly over a
segment there and sought diligently for something. From so high a point
and with such strong aid one could see many miles. He was sure that he
would find what he sought and yet did not wish to see. Presently he
picked out intermittent flashes which he believed were made by sunlight
falling on steel. Then he drew a long and deep breath that was almost
like a sigh.
"What is it?" asked Bougainville who had stood patiently by his side.
"I fear it is the glitter of lances, my friend, lances carried by German
Uhlans. Will you look?"
Bougainville held out his hands eagerly for the glasses, and then drew
them back a little. In his new dignity he would not show sudden emotion.
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