disdainfully. They were glad even that a Taube should come now and
then, so that they, the women of Paris, might run some risks in this
war and share its perils with their men, who every day in the trenches
là-bas, faced death for the sake of France. "Our chance of death is a
million to one," said some of them. "We should be poor things to take
fright at that!"


12


But there were other death-ships that might come sailing through the
sky on a fair night without wind or moon. The enemy tried to affright
the soul of Paris by warnings of the destruction coming to them with a
fleet of Zeppelins. But Paris scoffed. "Je m'en fiche de vos
Zeppelins!" said the spirit of Paris. As the weeks passed by and the
months, and still no Zeppelins came, the menace became a jest. The
very word of Zeppelin was heard with hilarity. There were comic
articles in the newspapers, taunting the German Count who had
made those gas-bags. There were also serious articles proving the
impossibility of a raid by airships. They would be chased by French
aviators as soon as they were sighted. They would be like the
Spanish Armada, surrounded by the little English warships, pouring
shot and shell into their unwieldy hulks. Not one would escape down
the wind.

The police of Paris, more nervous than the public, devised a system
of signals if Zeppelins were sighted. There were to be bugle-calls
throughout the city, and the message they gave would mean "lights
out!" in every part of Paris. For several nights there were rehearsals