John glanced covertly at Julie, and saw her face pale. But she did not
tremble.

"Is it true also that the German army is near?" asked Madame Lannes,
with just the faintest quiver in her voice.

"Yes, mother. John, standing in the lantern of the Basilique du
Sacré-Coeur, saw through his glasses the flash of sunlight on the lances
of their Uhlans. A shell from one of their great guns could fall in the
suburbs of Paris."

John's covert glance was now for Madame Lannes. How would the matron who
was cast in the antique mold of Rome take such news? But she veiled her
eyes a little with her long lashes, and he could not catch the
expression there.

"I believe it is not generally known in Paris that the enemy is so very
near," said Philip, "and while I have not hesitated to tell you the full
truth, mother, I ask you and Julie not to speak of it to others."

"Of course, Philip, we would add nothing to the general alarm, which is
great enough already, and with cause. But what do you wish us to do?
Shall we remain here, or go while it is yet time to our cousins, the
Menards, at Lyons?"

Now it was the mother who, in this question of physical peril, was
showing deference to her son, the masculine head of the family. John
liked it. He remembered an old saying, and he felt it to be true, that
they did many things well in France.