"You are right. I wish he was here now."

John gazed at the great arch which the sun was gilding with glory and he
shared with Lannes his wish that the mighty man who had built it to
commemorate his triumphs was back with France--for a while at least. He
was never able to make up his mind whether Napoleon was good or evil.
Perhaps he was a mixture of both, highly magnified, but now of all
times, with the German millions at the gates, he was needed most.

"I think France could afford to take him back," he said, "and risk any
demands he might make or enforce."

"John," said Lannes, "you've fought with us and suffered with us, and so
you're one of us. You understand what I felt this morning when on the
edge of Paris I heard the German guns. They say that we can fight on,
after our foes have taken the capital, and that the English will come in
greater force to help us. But if victorious Germans march once through
the Arc de Triomphe I shall feel that we can never again win back all
that we have lost."

A note, low but deep and menacing, came from the far horizon. It might
be a German gun or it might be a French gun, but the effect was the
same. The threat was there. A shudder shook the frame of Lannes, but
John saw a sudden flame of sunlight shoot like a glittering lance from
the Arc de Triomphe.

"A sign! a sign!" he exclaimed, his imaginative mind on fire in an
instant. "I saw a flash from the arch! It was the soul of the Great
Captain speaking! I tell you, Philip, the Republic is not yet lost! I've
read somewhere, and so have you, that the Romans sold at auction at a