The Forest of Swords | Page 9

lightning glance.
Lannes laughed.
"It's all right, Antoine," he said. "He's the young man from that far
barbarian country called America, who escaped from Germany with me,
only he's no barbarian, but a highly civilized being who not only likes
France, but who fights for her. John, this is Antoine Picard, who rules
and protects this house."
John held out his hand, American fashion, and it was engulfed in the
mighty grasp of the Norseman, as he always thought of him afterward.
"Madame, your mother, and Mademoiselle, your sister, have been
anxious," said Picard.
"We were delayed," said Lannes.
They stepped into a narrow hall, and Picard shut the door behind them,
shooting into place a heavy bolt which sank into its socket with a click
like the closing of the entrance to a fortress. In truth, the whole aspect
of the house reminded John of a stronghold. The narrow hall was
floored with stone, the walls were stone and the light was dim. Lannes
divined 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 to make a good
impression on his own account.
"I know that Philip risks his life daily," she said. "He has chosen the
most dangerous of all paths, the air, but perhaps in that way he can
serve us most."
She spoke with neither complaint nor reproach, merely as if she were
stating a fact, and her son added briefly:
"You are right, mother. In the air I can work best for our people. Ah,
John, here is my sister, who is quite curious about the stranger from
across the sea."
A young girl came into the room. She was tall and slender, not more
than seventeen, very fair, with blue eyes and hair of pure gold. John
was continually observing that while many of the French were dark and
small, in accordance with foreign opinion that made them all so, many
more were blonde and tall. Lannes' sister was scarcely more than a
lovely child, but his heart beat more quickly.
Lannes kissed her on the forehead, just as he kissed his