She was fair like her son, and much less than fifty years of age.

There was no stoop in her shoulders and but little gray in her hair.

Her eyes were anxious, but John saw in them the Spartan determination that marked the women of France.
"My friend, John Scott, of whom I have already spoken to you, Madame my mother," said Lannes.
John bowed.

He knew little of French customs, particularly in the heart of a French family, and he was afraid to extend his hand, but she gave him hers, and let it rest in his palm a moment.
"Philip has told me much of you," she said in her deep, bell-like voice, "and although I know little of your far America, I can believe the best of it, if its sons are like you." John flushed at the compliment, which he knew to be so sincere.
"Thank you, Madame," he said.

"While my country can take no part in this war, many of my countrymen will fight with you.