which set a bright spot in all the greenery. Then Helene raised
her eyes; but the crowd scattered and passed out of sight, and even
the vehicles looked like mere grains of sand; there remained naught
but the gigantic carcass of the city, seemingly untenanted and
abandoned, its life limited to the dull trepidation by which it was
agitated. There, in the foreground to the left, some red roofs were
shining, and the tall chimneys of the Army Bakehouse slowly poured out
their smoke; while, on the other side of the river, between the
Esplanade and the Champ-de-Mars, a grove of lofty elms clustered, like
some patch of a park, with bare branches, rounded tops, and young buds
already bursting forth, quite clear to the eye. In the centre of the
picture, the Seine spread out and reigned between its grey banks, to
which rows of casks, steam cranes, and carts drawn up in line, gave a
seaport kind of aspect. Helene's eyes were always turning towards this
shining river, on which boats passed to and fro like birds with inky
plumage. Her looks involuntarily followed the water's stately course,
which, like a silver band, cut Paris atwain. That morning the stream
rolled liquid sunlight; no greater resplendency could be seen on the
horizon. And the young woman's glance encountered first the Pont des
Invalides, next the Pont de la Concorde, and then the Pont Royal.
Bridge followed bridge, they appeared to get closer, to rise one above
the other like viaducts forming a flight of steps, and pierced with
all kinds of arches; while the river, wending its way beneath these
airy structures, showed here and there small patches of its blue robe,
patches which became narrower and narrower, more and more indistinct.
And again did Helene raise her eyes, and over yonder the stream forked
amidst a jumble of houses; the bridges on either side of the island of
La Cite were like mere films stretching from one bank to the other;
while the golden towers of Notre-Dame sprang up like boundary-marks of
the horizon, beyond which river, buildings, and clumps of trees became
naught but sparkling sunshine. Then Helene, dazzled, withdrew her gaze
from this the triumphant heart of Paris, where the whole glory of the
city appeared to blaze.

On the right bank, amongst the clustering trees of the Champs-Elysees
she saw the crystal buildings of the Palace of Industry glittering
with a snowy sheen; farther away, behind the roof of the Madeleine,
which looked like a tombs