"Over yonder." He pointed. "Cap'n Dave Gray."

The breath went out of the congregation momentarily, as if a dull blow had struck its mid-section. The panic brewing in Dave boiled over, but the organism he had created surged forward and seized him with one leg out a window. He struggled in its clutches, suddenly possessed.

"How can you – any of you – understand? O, my sweet Mary, my one and own! It was all for you, my only love! I had to do it! My up-right brother and that Blue-Coat whore of a mother stood in my way! We could never be together with them alive --!"

Mercier and Constable Webb wrestled Dave away from the monster, which fractured into pockets of disoriented burghers. Shafts of afternoon sun acquired the tint of stained glass and bathed Sarah and Mary Gray in their comfort. Reverend Hurley and Hugh stood guard.

Mercier stamped the dust from his boots and crossed Mrs. Syke's threshold into her dining room. He spied Hugh Gregory and Mary Gray, greeted them with satisfaction, and joined them. Hugh spoke first.

"Tell me, Jean. Did Dave Gray make a clean breast of it before he was hanged in Carthage, or did he continue to play the lunatic? Folks in Deer Lick need to know what the truth is – all of it, told out and finished."

Mercier sighed. "Ah, Hugh. Véracité. Truth. It is complicated. Many truths were told at Monsieur Gray's trial. There was the truth of the law – the prosecutor's, the defender of Dave's, and the magistrate's – all different, no? There was Reverend Hurley and the truth of God, against an old man bent under the truth of his terrible choice. There was the truth of the assassin, which is clearer to him than any. His deeds became just and necessary, because his own sin hardened his loved ones against him."

Hugh was not mollified. "Don't you believe that Dave Gray deserved what he got – not just as Cain killing Abel, but for the pain his swindles and serpent's tongue brought on this town?"

"I cannot say. Does one brutality forgive another? Monsieur Robert Browning published a poem eight years ago, en Angláis, that examines this. You should take it up – there are many parallels."

Mary broke the pensive silence. "Jean, you must tell us more about yourself. Most in Deer Lick still think you a force of Nature – or worse!"

"Absolument! Un diable who fell to Earth, speaking in tongues and practicing magic!" The Frenchman was merry. "I am an aérostier; I fly in balloons. Mon Pére is a wealthy chemist, a patron of Monsieur Thaddeus Howe's Union Air Corps. He brought me to America when I was fifteen and schooled me in flying and making the hydrogen gas. We returned to the Continent and I fly to many countries. I study them, their languages and their science. It is no mystére!"

"But," Mary continued, "what brought you to Deer Lick?"

More mirthful was Mercier. "Méchant chance—ill luck! I try to fly from Topeka to Saint Louis and the storms take me south and knock me out of the ship! My crew assumes I am lost until I recover and wire my father from Carthage last spring."

Mary persisted. "What took into your head to come a-tramping in the wilds of America?"

"My village is Barfleur, not far from Monsieur de Tocqueville's. You do not know of him? Forty-five years ago, he had as many years as I have now. He came to America and learned much from her. I read his accounts and I desire to ride the steamboat on your big river and learn, too." He slapped his thighs. "On the river they told him, 'The sands of the Mississippi are like the French and cannot stay a year in the same place'! Étonnant!"

"Can you not delay and remain for our wedding day, next month?" Hugh asked, as Mary blushed.

"Regrettably, non." Mercier retrieved his hat and gloves. "I have much to do. The winds and skies are friendly, my new aérostat freights from Springfield tomorrow, and the generators soon thereafter. Au revoir.”

By and by, the spreading word of Jean Mercier's departure put him at the center of a cavalcade of wonder again. Every creature on two legs but poultry alive in the county came to the meadow where the ascension was scheduled. Unlike his arrival, the day was brilliant; the sun gave silvery hue to the colossal silk bladder that lay spread upon the ground. Its sheath of netting was tethered to a formidable, caned cabin, which was laden with sandbags. The whole engine was tied to the earth. A half-dozen French and American crewmen busied themselves preparing for the launch, and a freight-wagon groaning with provisions and a four-in-hand stood by to give chase. Two mule-drawn caissons, each mounted with a box-like apparatus, were parked near-by the Deus ex Machina. Protuberant hoses snaked from the boxes into its mouth. Once the sulfuric acid and metal filings were mixed in them, a low hiss announced the manufactured vapor, which engorged the hoses and brought the balloon to life. Amazement grew in proportion to its height.

The Gaul summoned Doctor Joplin to his side. Opening his valise, he began handing him vials. "Mon Médecin, my gift to you is science--knowledge. This is ether, for surgery and childbirth. There are two princes of England alive because of it. This one is chloroform, to bring quiet and relieve pain. This last one is bromine, to combat the gangrene. You have the gift of care, my friend; put aside your eau d'homéopathique, your baths, and your poultices. Study these and learn to use them wisely."

Mercier threw his arms around Hugh and Mary. "First, I teach you the French good-bye." He kissed them both on each cheek, and Hugh was more rouge than his fiancée. "Now, I give you Tocqueville, en Fran?ais. Perchance you will learn to read him and profit from seeing yourselves in his glass."