The airman, who had stopped eating, sat with fork in hand, listening, regarding her intently. "Yes," he said, resuming his meal, "I understand quite well what you mean. Some such philosophy sent my elder brother and me over here from New York--the wild hogs trampling through Belgium--the ferocious herds from the Rhine defacing, defiling, rending, obliterating all that civilized man has reverenced for centuries.... That’s the idea--the world-wide menace of these unclean hordes--and the murderous filth of them!... They got my brother." He shrugged, realizing that his face had flushed with the heat of inner fires. "Coolness does it," he added, almost apologetically, "--method and coolness. The world must keep its head clear: yellow fever and smallpox have been nearly stamped out; the Hun can be eliminated--with intelligence and clear thinking.... And I’m only an American airman who has been shot down like a winged heron whose comrades have lingered a little to comfort him and have gone on.... Yes, but a winged heron can still stab, little mistress of the bells.... And every blow counts.... Listen attentively--for Jack’s sake ... and for the sake of France. For I am going to explain to you how you can strike--if you want to." "I am listening," said Maryette serenely. "We may not live through it. Even my orders do not send me to do this thing; they merely permit it. Are you contented to go with me?" She nodded, the shadow of a smile on her lips. "Very well. You play the carillon?" "Yes." "You can play ’La Brabançonne’?" "Yes." "On the bells?" "Yes." He rose, went around the table, carrying his chair with him, and seated himself beside her. She inclined her pale, pretty head; he placed his lips close to her ear, speaking very slowly and distinctly, explaining his plan in every minute detail. While he was still speaking in a whisper, the street outside filled with the trample of arriving cavalry. The Spahis were leaving the environs of Sainte Lesse; _chasseurs à cheval_ followed from still farther afield, escorting ambulances from the Nivelle hospitals now being abandoned. "The trenches at Nivelle are being emptied," said the airman. "And do you mean that you and I are to go there, to Nivelle?" she asked. "That is exactly what I mean. In an hour I shall be in the Nivelle belfry. Will you be there with me?" "Yes." "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "You can play ’La Brabançonne’ on the bells while I blow hell out of them in the redoubt below us!" The infantry from the Nivelle trenches began to pass. There were a few wagons, a battery of seventy-fives, a soup kitchen or two and a long column of mules from Fontanes. Two American muleteers knocked at the inn door and came stamping into the hallway, asking for a loaf and a bottle of red wine. Maryette rose from the table to find provisions; the airman got up also, saying in English: "Where do you come from, boys?"