imes he could not prevent the loosened springs from
giving out a creaking noise, a childlike squeaking which his big
fingers, though plied with the utmost gentleness, drew from the
disordered mechanism. If the doll vented too loud a sound, however, he
at once stopped working, distressed and vexed with himself, and
turning towards Jeanne to see if he had roused her. Then once more he
would resume his repairing, with great precautions, his only tools
being a pair of scissors and a bodkin.

"Why do you weep, my daughter?" again asked the Abbe. "Can I not
afford you some relief?"

"Ah! let me be," said Helene; "these tears do me good. By-and-by,
by-and-by--"

A stifling sensation checked any further words. Once before, in this
very place, she had been convulsed by a storm of tears; but then she
had been alone, free to sob in the darkness till the emotion that
wrung her was dried up at its source. However, she knew of no cause of
sorrow; her daughter was well once more, and she had resumed the old
monotonous delightful life. But it was as though a keen sense of awful
grief had abruptly come upon her; it seemed as if she were rolling
into a bottomless abyss which she could not fathom, sinking with all
who were dear to her in a limitless sea of despair. She knew not what
misfortune hung over her head; but she was without hope, and could
only weep.

Similar waves of feeling had swept over her during the month of the
Virgin in the church laden with the perfume of flowers. And, as
twilight fell, the vastness of Paris filled her with a deep religious
impression. The stretch of plain seemed to expand, and a sadness rose
up from the two millions of living beings who were being engulfed in
darkness. And when it was night, and the city with its subdued
rumbling had vanished from view, her oppressed heart poured forth its
sorrow, and her tears overflowed, in presence of that sovereign peace.
She could have clasped her hands and prayed. She was filled with an
intense craving for faith, love, and a lapse into heavenly
forgetfulness; and the first glinting of the stars overwhelmed her
with sacred terror and enjoyment.

A lengthy interval of silence ensued, and then the Abbe spoke once
more, this time more pressingly.

"My daughter, you must confide in me. Why do you hesitate?"

She was still weeping, but more gently, like a wearied and powerless
child.

"The Church frightens you," he continued. "For a time I thought you
had yi