and shoulders thrown back, was walking with a rapid and springy step.
Courage was obviously there.

But John, despite his own strong heart, could not keep from feeling an
infinite sadness and pity, not for Lannes, but for all the three million
people who inhabited the City of Light, most of whom were fleeing now
before the advance of the victorious invader. He could put himself in
their place. France held his deepest sympathy. He felt that a great
nation, sedulously minding its own business, trampled upon and robbed
once before, was now about to be trampled upon and robbed again. He
could not subscribe to the doctrine, that might was right.

He watched the fugitives a long time. They were crowding the railway
stations, and they were departing by motor, by cart and on foot. Many of
the poorer people, both men and women, carried packs on their backs. The
boulevards and the streets were filled with the retreating masses.

It was an amazing and stupefying sight, the abandonment by its
inhabitants of a great city, a city in many ways the first in the world,
and it gave John a mighty shock. He had been there with his uncle and
Mr. Anson in the spring, and he had seen nothing but peace and
brightness. The sun had glittered then, as it glittered now over the Arc
de Triomphe, the gleaming dome of the Invalides and the golden waters of
the Seine. It was Paris, soft, beautiful and bright, the Paris that
wished no harm to anybody.

But the people were going. He could see them going everywhere. The
cruel, ancient times when cities were destroyed or enslaved by the
conqueror had come back, and the great Paris that the world had known so
long might become lost forever.