o be calm. Over the
immensity of Paris the fiery glow deepened and widened; the sea of flame
seemed to be invading the remotest quarters of the horizon; the heavens
were like the vaults of a colossal oven, heated to red heat. And athwart
the red light of the conflagrations the dense black smoke-clouds from
the Ministry of Finance, which had been burning three days and given
forth no blaze, continued to pour in unbroken, slow procession.

The following, Saturday, morning brought with it a decided improvement
in Maurice's condition: he was much calmer, the fever had subsided, and
it afforded Jean inexpressible delight to behold a smile on Henriette's
face once more, as the young woman fondly reverted to her cherished
dream, a pact of reciprocal affection between the three of them, that
should unite them in a future that might yet be one of happiness, under
conditions that she did not care to formulate even to herself. Would
destiny be merciful? Would it save them all from an eternal farewell
by saving her brother? Her nights were spent in watching him; she never
stirred outside that chamber, where her noiseless activity and gentle
ministrations were like a never-ceasing caress. And Jean, that evening,
while sitting with his friends, forgot his great sorrow in a delight
that astonished him and made him tremble. The troops had carried
Belleville and the Buttes-Chaumont that day; the only remaining point
where there was any resistance now was the cemetery of Pere-Lachaise,
which had been converted into a fortified camp. It seemed to him that
the insurrection was ended; he even declared that the troops had ceased
to shoot their prisoners, who were being collected in droves and sent
on to Versailles. He told of one of those bands that he had seen that
morning on the _quai_, made up of men of every class, from the most
respectable to the lowest, and of women of all ages and conditions,
wrinkled old bags and young girls, mere children, not yet out of their
teens; pitiful aggregation of misery and revolt, driven like cattle
by the soldiers along the street in the bright sunshine, and that the
people of Versailles, so it was said, received with revilings and blows.

But Sunday was to Jean a day of terror. It rounded out and fitly ended
that accursed week. With the triumphant rising of the sun on that
bright, warm Sabbath morning he shudderingly heard the news that was the
culmination of all preceding horrors. It was only at that l