The farmer and his wife, both strong and dark, were about forty, and there were four children, the oldest a girl of about thirteen.

What fear they may have felt in the morning was gone now, and, as they knew that the French army was advancing, a joy, reserved but none the less deep, had taken its place.
John and Lannes sat down at a small table covered with a neat white cloth, and Madame, walking quickly and lightly, served them with bread, cold meat and light red wine.

The smaller children hovered in the background and looked curiously at the young foreigner who wore the French uniform.
"May I ask your name, Madame ?" John asked politely.
"Poiret," she said.

"My man is Jules Poiret, and this farm has been in his family since the great revolution.

You and your comrade came from the air, as I saw, and you can tell us, can you not, whether the Poiret farm is to become German or remain French?
The enemy has been pushed back today, but will he come so near to Paris again?
Tell me truly, on your soul, Monsieur!" "I don't believe the Germans will ever again be so near to Paris," replied John with sincerity.