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He walks among the wounded, and the dead.  The City of Lights has become the City of Fear.  The tears well up in the eyes of the little poor one, because he loves the French people.  His father made his fortune selling French cloth,and he had the name of his first-born son changed from Giovanni to Francisco to honor France.  In his youth, the little one would dress as a French troubadour, entertaining the young ladies of Assisi with French love songs.

He kneels down beside one of the wounded, who is crying in pain and fear.  He takes the person’s hand, bends over, and sings to him in French.  An EMT rushes towards the wounded person, he thinks he sees a dark robed friar kneeling over him.  He blinks and the friar is gone.  He kneels beside the injured, who is now quiet, and has a peaceful look on his face.  “Paix!”