“_Au revoir_,” said Andree, holding out her hand. “We mus’ meet again. There are many theengs we mus’ speak of.” Maude looked down into Andree’s dark-shadowed black eyes and smiled. “Yes,” she said, “we must speak of many things....” CHAPTER XXII In the morning Paris stopped in groups to whisper and to point off to the northeastward. Paris was apprehensive. It had been awakened before dawn by the distant rumble of cannon, such a rumble as had never before come to its ears, and it wanted to know the reason for it. The guns had never sounded so loudly. Was it that the _boches_ had made a fresh advance and were by that much nearer to the defenses of the city? Or had it been some huge air raid turned abortive before it reached its objective?... It was the 15th of July. Slowly, by devious channels, the news spread. The enemy had struck again, had launched such a blow as warfare had not seen up to this period.... And Paris waited for the outcome. Then dull explosions were heard in various parts of the city at regular intervals.... Big Bertha was at her work again; the long-range cannon was once more bombarding Paris. As in the days past, one might see wagons loaded high with trunks and personal belongings moving toward a gate of the city or toward a railway station as the more apprehensive abandoned their homes for places of greater security. These were days when it was impossible to find tenants for the top floors of apartment-houses. There was a feeling that one was safer from Bertha and the bomb with at least one _étage_ between him and the roof.... Papers were eagerly snatched from kiosks and from news-venders, who ran through the crowds with such speed that it was almost impossible to buy their wares—but the news was scanty. At least the guns were not heard again. After that first tremendous artillery preparation there was no sound from the direction of Château-Thierry and Reims. The silence, the pall which the censorship threw over events, was portentous, threatening. People recalled the inexorability of the last two German attacks. If this one proceeded as its predecessors had done, Paris would be made untenable. There would be a siege.... There was talk of complete evacuation. Then tidings of a more encouraging nature filtered in. The _boches_ had advanced a little here and there, had been checked at this and that point. There had been no breaking through, no headlong rush upon Paris, no marching down roads in columns of four with guns over shoulders. On the 16th the apprehension was less, but the tension was still present. The 17th saw Paris again almost at the normal of war-times. It was reassured. It was rumored that Foch had given his word that Paris was safe. The magic of one man’s name was potent to reassure the millions of citizens of the metropolis. If Foch said Paris was safe, then Paris was safe.