The Forest of Swords: A Story of Paris and the Marne by Joseph A. Altsheler (13 ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Nothing that I can conceive of is better fitted than the European window to keep out light and air."

Lannes smiled.

"I see that you're in fine feather this morning," he said, "I'll open it for you."

John jumped up and dressed quickly, while Lannes, with accustomed hand, laid back shutters and curtains.

"Now, shove up the window," exclaimed John as he wielded towel and brush. "A little fresh air in a house won't hurt you; it won't hurt anybody. We're a young people, we Americans, but we can teach you that. Why, in the German hotels they'd seal up the smoking-rooms and lounges in the evenings, and then boys would go around shooting clouds of perfume against the ceilings. Ugh! I can taste now that awful mixture of smoke, perfume and thrice-breathed air! Ah! that feels better! It's like a breath from heaven!"

"Ready now? We're going down to breakfast with my mother and sister."

"Yes. How do I look in this uniform, Lannes?"

"Very well. But, Oh, you Americans! we French are charged with vanity, but you have it."

John had thought little of his raiment until he came to the house of Lannes, but now there was a difference. He gave the last touch to his coat, and he and Philip went down together. Madame Lannes and Julie received them. They were dressed very simply, Julie in white and Madame Lannes in plain gray. Their good-morning to John was quiet, but he saw that it came from the heart. They recognized in him the faithful comrade in danger, of the son and brother, and he saw once more that French family affection was very powerful.

It was early, far earlier than the ordinary time for the European breakfast, and he knew that it had been served so, because he and Lannes were to depart. He sat facing a window, and he saw the dawn come over Paris in a vast silver haze that soon turned to a cloud of gold. He again stole glances at Julie Lannes. In all her beautiful fairness of hair and complexion she was like one of the blonde American girls of his own country.

When breakfast was over and the two young men rose to go John said the first farewell. He still did not know the French custom, but, bending over suddenly, he kissed the still smooth and handsome hand of Madame Lannes. As she flushed and looked pleased, he judged that he had made no mistake. Then he touched lightly the hand of the young girl, and said:

"Mademoiselle Julie, I hope to return soon to this house with your brother."

"May it be so," she said, in a voice that trembled, "and may you come back to a Paris still French!"

John bowed to them both and with tact and delicacy withdrew from the room. He felt that there should be no witness of Philip's farewell to his mother and sister, before going on a journey from which the chances were that he would never return.

He strolled down the hall, pretending to look at an old picture or two, and in a few minutes Lannes came out and joined him. John saw tears in his eyes, but his face was set and stern. Neither spoke until they reached the front door, which the giant, Picard, opened for them.

"If the worst should happen, Antoine," said Lannes, "and you must be the judge of it when it comes, take them to Lyons, to our cousins the Menards."

"I answer with my life," said the man, shutting together his great teeth, and John felt that it was well for the two women to have such a guardian. Under impulse, he said:

"I should like to shake the hand of a man who is worth two of most men."

Whether the French often shake hands or not, his fingers were enclosed in the mighty grasp of Picard, and he knew that he had a friend for life. When they went out Lannes would not look back and was silent for a long time. The day was warm and beautiful, and the stream of fugitives, the sad procession, was still flowing from the city. Troops too were moving, and it seemed to John that they passed in heavier masses than on the day before.

"I went out last night while you slept," said Lannes, when they were nearly at the hangar, "and I will tell you that I bear a message to one of our most important generals. I carry it in writing, and also in memory in case I lose the written word. That is all I feel at liberty to tell you, and in truth I know but little more. The message comes from our leader to the commander of the army at Paris, who in turn orders me to deliver it to the general whom we're going to seek. It directs him with his whole force to move forward to a certain point and hold fast there. Beyond that I know nothing. Its whole significance is hidden from me. I feel that I can tell you this, John, as we're about to start upon a journey which has a far better prospect of death than of life."

"I'm not afraid," said John, and he told the truth. "I feel, Philip, that great events are impending and that your dispatch or the effect of it will be a part in some gigantic plan."

"I feel that way, too. What an awful crisis! The Germans moved nearer in the dark. I didn't sleep a minute last night. I couldn't. If the signs that you and I saw are to be fulfilled they must be fulfilled soon, because when a thing is done it's done, and when Paris falls it falls."

"Well, here we are at the hangar, and the Arrow will make you feel better. You're like the born horseman whose spirits return when he's on the back of his best runner."

"I suppose I am. The air is now my proper medium, and anyway, John, my gallant Yankee, for a man like me the best tonic is always action, action, and once more action."

The Arrow was in beautiful condition, smooth, polished and fitted with everything that was needed. They put on their flying clothes, drew down their visors, stowed their automatics in handy pockets, and took their seats in the aeroplane. Then, as he put his hand on the steering rudder and the attendants gave the Arrow a mighty shove, the soul of Lannes swelled within him.

They rose slowly and then swiftly over Paris, and his troubles were left behind him on the earth. Up, up they went, in a series of graceful spirals, and although John, at first, felt the old uneasy feeling, it soon departed. He too exulted in their mounting flight and the rush of cold air.

"Use your glasses, John," said Lannes, "and tell me what you can see."

"Some captive balloons, five other planes, all our own, and on the horizon, where the German army lies, several black specks too vague and indefinite for me to make out what they are, although I've no doubt they're German flyers."

"I'd like to have a look at the Germans, but our way leads elsewhere. What else do you see, John?"

"I look downward and I see the most magnificent and glittering city in the world."

"And that's Paris, our glorious Paris, which you and I and a million others are going to save. I suppose it's hope, John, that makes me feel we'll do something. Did you know that the Germans dropped two more bombs on the city last night? One, luckily, fell in the Seine. The other struck near the Madeleine, close to a group of soldiers, killing two and wounding four more."

"Bombs from the air can't do any great damage to a city."

"No, but they can spread alarm, and it's an insult, too. We feel as the Germans would if we were dropping bombs on Berlin. I wish you'd keep those glasses to your eyes all the time, John, and watch the skies. Let me know at once, if you see anything suspicious."

John, continually turning in his seat, swept the whole curve of the world with the powerful glasses. Paris was now far below, a blur of white and gray. Above, the heavens were of the silkiest blue, beautiful in their infinite depths, with tiny clouds floating here and there like whitecaps on an ocean.

"What do you see now, John?"

"Nothing but one of the most beautiful days that ever was. It's a fine sun, that you've got over here, Philip. I can see through these glasses that it's made out of pure reddish gold."

"Never mind about that sun, John. America is a full partner in its ownership and you're used to it. I've heard that you have more sunshine than we do. Watch for our companions of the air, friend or foe."

"I see them flying; over Paris, but none is going in our direction. How far is our port of entry, Lannes?"

"We should be there in two hours, if nothing happens. Do we still have the course to ourselves or is anything coming our way now?"

"No company at all, unless you'd call a machine about three miles off and much lower down, a comrade."

"What does it look like?"

"A French aeroplane, much resembling the Arrow."

"Is it following us?"

"Not exactly. Yes, it is coming our way now, although it keeps much lower! A scout, I dare say."

Lannes was silent for a little while, his eyes fixed on his pathway through the blue. Then he said:

"What has become of that machine, John?"

"It has risen a little, but it's on our private course, that is, if we can claim the right of way all down to the ground."

Lannes glanced backward and downward, as well as his position would allow.

"A French plane, yes," he said thoughtfully. "There can be no doubt of it, but why should it follow us in this manner? You do think it's following us, don't you, John?"

"It begins to look like it, Phil. It's rising a little now, and is directly in our wake."

"Take a long look through those glasses of yours."

John obeyed, and the following aeroplane at once increased in size tenfold and came much nearer.

"It's French. There cannot be any doubt of it," he said, "and only one man is in it. As he's hidden by his flying-suit I can't tell anything about him."

"Watch him closely, John, and keep your hand on the butt of your automatic. I don't like that fellow's actions. Still, he may be a Frenchman on an errand like ours. We've no right to think we're the only people carrying important messages today."

"He's gaining pretty fast. Although he keeps below us, it looks as if he wanted to communicate with us."

The second aeroplane suddenly shot forward and upward at a much greater rate of speed. John, still watching through his glasses, saw the man release the steering rudder for an instant, snatch a rifle from the floor of his plane, and fire directly at Lannes.

John uttered a shout of anger, and in action, too, he was as quick as a flash. His automatic was out at once and he rained bullets upon the treacherous machine. It was hard to take aim, firing from one flying target, at another, but he saw the man flinch, turn suddenly, and then go rocketing away at a sharp angle.

Blazing with wrath John watched him, now far out of range, and then reloaded his automatic.

"Did you get him, John?" asked Lannes.

"I know one bullet found him, because I saw him shiver and shrink, but it couldn't have been mortal, as he was able to fly away."

"I'm glad that you at least hit him, because he hit me."

"What!" exclaimed John. Then he looked at his comrade and saw to his intense horror that black blood was flowing slowly down a face deadly pale.

"His bullet went through my cap and then through my head," said Lannes. "Oh, not through my skull, or I wouldn't be talking to you now. I think it glanced off the bone, as I know it's gone out on the other side. But I'm losing much blood, John, and I seem to be growing numb."

His voice trailed off in weakness and the Arrow began to move in an eccentric manner. John saw that Lannes' hand on the rudder was uncertain and that he had been hard hit. He was aghast, first for his friend, to whom he had become so strongly attached, and then for the Arrow, their mission and himself. Lannes would soon become unconscious and he, no flying man at all, would be left high in air with a terrible weight of responsibility.

"We must change seats," said Lannes, struggling against the dimness that was coming over his eyes and the weakness permeating his whole body. "Be careful, Oh, be careful as you can,