pace. In the luncheon hour crowds of midinettes surrounded the
singers, joining sometimes in the choruses, squealing with laughter at
jests in verse not to be translated in sober English prose and finding a
little moisture in their eyes after a song of sentiment which reminded
them of the price which must be paid for glory by young men for
whose homecoming they had waited through the winter and the
spring.


11


No German soldier came through the gates of Paris, and no German
guns smashed a way through the outer fortifications. But now and
then an enemy came over the gates and high above the ramparts, a
winged messenger of death, coming very swiftly through the sky,
killing a few mortals down below and then retreating into the hiding-
places behind the clouds. There were not many people who saw the
"Taube"--the German dove--make its swoop and hurl its fire-balls.
There was just a speck in the sky, a glint of metal, and the far-
humming of an aerial engine. Perhaps it was a French aviator coming
back from a reconnaissance over the enemy's lines on the Aisne, or
taking a joy ride over Paris to stretch his wings. The little shop-girls
looked up and thought how fine it would be to go riding with him, as
high as the stars--with one of those keen profiled men who have such
roguish eyes when they come to earth. Frenchmen strolling down the
boulevards glanced skywards and smiled. They were brave lads who
defended the air of Paris. No Boche would dare to poke the beak of
his engine above the housetops. But one or two men were uneasy
and stood with strained eyes. There was something peculiar about