Her heart leaped painfully. She had heard a sound like the humming of
an insect--faint--then more clear. The hum became a drone, and in sheer
intoxication she reached her hands towards the east as the sun, well
above the horizon, illumed the sky with gold-red flames. Blinded by its
brilliancy, she turned away; but her ear heard the cessation of the
engine as the pilot brought his machine towards the earth. She knew
that he must be approaching her; yet she kept her face averted, on some
caprice of sixteen years, until she heard his voice calling, a few
yards off.
He bowed very low as, with lowered eyes, she gave him her hand; then,
indicating a coat on his arm, he leant towards her, with some effort
making his voice heard above the impatient throbbing of the aeroplane's
engine.
"Take off your hat," he cried, noticing with quick approval the pretty
costume she wore (for however poor she may be, no French girl is
without one becoming frock), "and slip your curls into this helmet.
It's the largest I could find."
She did as she was bidden, laughing delightedly.
"Now, youngster, climb into this."
He wrapped her in a fur-lined leather coat, and after buttoning it
securely, lingered for a moment over the amusing and dainty picture she
presented. Then, picking her up in his arms, he carried her over to the
machine and deposited her in the observer's seat, fastening the belt.
He was just about to climb into his place in front, when, changing his
mind, he leaned over to her and placed both hands on her shoulders.
"Frightened?" he smiled, speaking so close to her ear that a truant
curl brushed against his cheek.
She shook her head decisively--for a considerable period she had been
beyond the power of speech.
He looked into her eyes, which seemed to have borrowed something of the
sunlight, and patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.... And
Mademoiselle Pippa, niece of the absent miller, would have gone
straight to the moon with him had it been his wish and in his power.
She watched him wonderingly as he lifted a heavy sand-bag used as
ballast, and dropped it on the ground. The next moment he was in the
pilot's seat, there was a crescendo of the engine, a waddling sensation
as the aeroplane went forward, the sudden development of the crescendo,
the burst of speed, and....
The earth was receding!
She caught her breath, and hid her face in her hands to stifle a cry
and keep the sight from her eyes. She had been afraid that she would
faint with dizziness, and for a full minute sat, terror-stricken,
until, gaining courage, she tremblingly parted two fingers and cast a
timorous glance below. A cry escaped from her--but it was not one of
fear.
Beneath her, though she was not conscious of height, the countryside
spread, a great masterpiece of color, the light brown of plowed fields
standing out vividly against the green of meadows where sheep (she
laughed out at the thought) were huddled in little groups like peanuts;
roads had become paths, and cottages were dwarfed to miniature
dwellings for the tiniest dolls.
But--she felt no height.
Only, the landscape, refreshed after its long winter repose, kept
closing in--closing in, displaying new beauties every minute, as though
she were in real truth a Fairy Princess summoning villages and rivers
and farms into one vast tapestry of nature.
And this was France! As far as the eye could see, it was France, the
mother of greatness. For the first time she pictured the wide, charred
plains where the Hun had been, and scalding tears hid everything from
her sight.
Several times her cavalier of the clouds had turned around to see that
she was not frightened, and, as often as he did so, she nodded
excitedly, and waved both hands after the manner of an orchestral
conductor calling for a fortissimo. Once he shut off the engines, and
they seemed to lie in the wind, a becalmed ship of the air.
"All right?" he queried inelegantly.
She tried to think of some word to summarize her emotions, but, failing
utterly, raised her goggles and thanked him with her eyes. A woman's
methods are not affected by altitude.
It seemed to her that they had flown for an hour, when, in her tapestry
of landscape, she found the gradual inclusion of the steeples and the
roof-tops of a city, the streets of which gave the impression of having
been drawn with a brown crayon with the aid of a ruler. The aeroplane
appeared to be turning with the wind, and she grasped the side of the
fuselage, when the whole scene was obliterated by a sea of billowy foam
that left her cheek wet. She laughed with delight, and reached out with
her hands, as though she would grasp the foam and compress it like snow
in her fingers. She sang and clapped her hands in sheer joyousness. She
was alone with her Prince in a world of dreams. The billows of foam
grew less dense, became a mist through which light gleamed, and they
emerged once more. Beneath them lay the Channel, shimmering in the
April sun. The magic wand drew the Strait to her gaze as it had done
the fields of France... Suddenly there was no throbbing of the engine,
and they seemed to float, motionless, in space.
He turned around and pointed to a border of white that lay against the
blue of the water.
"_Enfin!_" he cried. "England!"