"It was evidently a dash by the Taube that threw the bomb.

But we've stayed here long enough.

They're waiting for us at home." He led the way through the multitude, relapsing into silence, but casting a glance now and then at his own peculiar field, the heavens.
They reached the Place de la Concorde, and stopped there a moment or two.

Lannes looked sadly at the black drapery hanging from the stone figure that typified the lost city of Strassburg, but John glanced up the great sweep of the Place to the Arc de Triomphe, where he caught again the glittering shaft of sunlight that he had accepted as a sign.
"We may be looking upon all this for the last time," said Lannes, in a voice of grief.

"Oh, Paris, City of Light, City of the Heart! You may not understand me, John, but I couldn't bear to come back to Paris again, much as I love it, if it is to be despoiled and ruled by Germans." "I do understand you, Philip," said John cheerfully, "but you mustn't count a city yours until you've taken it.