stood out against
the sky in dull splendor, like some royal palace of conflagration
reduced to embers. Then, as the sun declined, the pyre-like edifices
gradually set the whole of Paris on fire. Flashes sped over the
housetops, while black smoke lingered in the valleys. Every frontage
turned towards the Trocadero seemed to be red-hot, the glass of the
windows glittering and emitting a shower of sparks, which darted
upwards as though some invisible bellows were ever urging the huge
conflagration into greater activity. Sheaves of flame were also ever
rising afresh from the adjacent districts, where the streets opened,
now dark and now all ablaze. Even far over the plain, from a ruddy
ember-like glow suffusing the destroyed faubourgs, occasional flashes
of flame shot up as from some fire struggling again into life. Ere
long a furnace seemed raging, all Paris burned, the heavens became yet
more empurpled, and the clouds hung like so much blood over the vast
city, colored red and gold.

With the ruddy tints falling upon her, yielding to the passion which
was devouring her, Helene was still gazing upon Paris all ablaze, when
a little hand was placed on her shoulder, and she gave a start. It was
Jeanne, calling her. "Mamma! mamma!"

She turned her head, and the child went on: "At last! Didn't you hear
me before? I have called you at least a dozen times."

The little girl, still in her Japanese costume, had sparkling eyes,
and cheeks flushed with pleasure. She gave her mother no time for
answer.

"You ran away from me nicely! Do you know, they were hunting for you
everywhere? Had it not been for Pauline, who came with me to the
bottom of the staircase, I shouldn't have dared to cross the road."

With a pretty gesture, she brought her face close to her mother's
lips, and, without pausing, whispered the question: "Do you love me?"

Helene kissed her somewhat absently. She was amazed and impatient at
her early return. Had an hour really gone by since she had fled from
the ball-room? However, to satisfy the child, who seemed uneasy, she
told her that she had felt rather unwell. The fresh air was doing her
good; she only needed a little quietness.

"Oh! don't fear; I'm too tired," murmured Jeanne. "I am going to stop
here, and be very, very good. But, mamma dear, I may talk, mayn't I?"

She nestled close to Helene, full of joy at the prospect of not being
undressed at once. She was in ecstasies over her embroidered purple