Perhaps the priest saw
in his eyes the same spark that John had noticed there.
"It is a time when France needs all of her sons," he said, "and even
those who have not deserved well of her before may do great deeds for
her now. You can pass."
Bougainville walked close to Father Pelletier, and John heard him say in
low tones:
"I feel within me the power to achieve, and when you see me again you
will recognize it."
The priest nodded and his friendly hand lay for a moment on the other's
shoulder.
"Come on, Geronimo," said John cheerfully. "As I remember it's nearly a
hundred steps into the lantern, and that's quite a climb."
"Not for youth like ours," exclaimed Bougainville, and he ran upward so
lightly that the American had some difficulty in following him. John was
impressed once more by his extraordinary strength and agility, despite
his smallness. He seemed to be a mass of highly wrought steel spring.
But unwilling to be beaten by anybody, John raced with him and the two
stood at the same time upon the utmost crest of the Basilique du
Sacre-Coeur.
They paused a few moments for fresh breath and then John put the glasses
to his eye, sweeping them in a slow curve. Through the powerful lenses
he saw the vast circle of Paris, and all the long story of the past that
it called up. Two thousand years of history rolled beneath his feet, and
the spectacle was wholly magnificent.
He beheld the great green valley with its hills, green, too, the line of
the Seine cutting the city apart like the flash of a sword blade, the
golden dome of the Hotel des Invalides, the grinning gargoyles of Notre
Dame, the arches and statues and fountains and the long green ribbons
that marked the boulevards.
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