"In England they point out every very old house as a place where a king passed the night, and make reverence accordingly." Lannes laughed gayly.
"No king ever slept here so far as I know," he said, "but the great Marshal Lannes, whose name I am so proud to bear, was in this house more than once, and to me, a staunch republican, that is greater than having had a king for a tenant.

The Marshal, as you may know, although he took a title and served an Emperor, was always a republican and in the early days of the empire often offended Napoleon by his frankness and brusque truths.

But enough of old things; we'll see my mother." He led the way up the steps, of solid stone, between walls thick enough for a fortress, and knocked at a door.

A deep, full voice responded "Enter!" and pushing open the door Lannes went in, followed by John.
It was a large room, with long, low windows, looking out over a sea of roofs toward the dome of the Invalides and Napoleon's arch of triumph.

A tall woman rose from a chair, and saying "My son!" put her hands upon Lannes shoulders and kissed him on the forehead.