nized. People came to him
with albums and pictures. He wrote to his father that a Madame de B.
wanted something, just one sentence, in an album which was to be sold in
America. "I am to be alongside the Generalissimo. What on earth can I
write?"

An American lady who was also a guest at the Hotel Edouard VII wanted to
have at any price some souvenir of the young hero. She ordered her maid
to bring away an old glove of Guynemer's which was lying on a chest of
drawers, and replace it by a magnificent bouquet. "This lady put me in a
nice dilemma," Guynemer explained, "as it was Sunday and there was no
way of getting any more gloves."[25]

[Footnote 25: Anecdote related in the _Figaro_ for September 29, 1917.]

He had no affectation, least of all the kind that pretends to be
ignorant of one's own popularity; but surely he cared little for
popularity. Here again he puts us in mind of a medieval poem. In
_Gilbert de Metz_, one of our oldest epics, the daughter of Anseis is
described seated at the window, "fresh, slim, and white as a lily" when
two knights, Garin and his cousin Gilbert, happen to ride near. "Look
up, cousin Gilbert," says Garin, "look. By our lady, what a handsome
dame!" "Oh," answers Gilbert, "what a handsome creature my steed is! I
never saw anything so lovely as this maiden with her fair skin and dark
eyes. I never knew any steed that could compare with mine." And so on,
while Gilbert still refuses to look up at the beautiful daughter of
Anseis. Also in _Girard de Viane_, Charlemagne, holding his court at
the palace of Vienne, has just placed the hand of the lovely Aude in
that of his nephew Roland. Both the girl and the great soldier are
silent and blushing while the date of the wedding is being discussed,
when a messenger suddenly rushes in: "The Saracens are in France! War!
war!" shout the bystanders. Then without a word Roland drops the white
hand of the girl, springs to arms, and is gone. So Guynemer would have
praised his Nieuport or his Spad as Gilbert praised his steed, and
_belle Aude_ herself could not have kept him away from the fight.

[Illustration: COMBAT]

One day his father felt doubts about the capacity of such a young man to
resist the intoxication of so much flattery from men and women.

"Don't worry," Guynemer answered, "I am watching my nerves as an acrobat
watches his muscles. I have chosen my own mission, and I must fulfil
it."

After his death, one of his friends, the one who