e. Her
mind could not grasp the idea of neglect and desertion; such things
seemed to her monstrously wicked, and never occurred to her little
heart without giving it a deadly pang. She shivered as a host of vague
ideas slowly awoke within her. So people parted one day; each went his
own way, never to meet or love each other again. With her eyes fixed
on the limitless and dreary expanse of Paris, she sat chilled by all
that her childish passion could divine of life's hard blows.

Meantime her breath was fast dimming the glass. With her hands she
rubbed away the vapor that prevented her from looking out. Several
monuments in the distance, wet with the rain, glittered like browny
ice. There were lines of houses, regular and distinct, which, with
their fronts standing out pale amidst the surrounding roofs, looked
like outstretched linen--some tremendous washing spread to dry on
fields of ruddy grass. The sky was clearing, and athwart the tail of
the cloud which still cloaked the city in gloom the milky rays of the
sun were beginning to stream. A brightness seemed to be hesitating
over some of the districts; in certain places the sky would soon begin
to smile. Jeanne gazed below, over the quay and the slopes of the
Trocadero; the street traffic was about to begin afresh after that
violent downpour. The cabs again passed by at a jolting crawl, while
the omnibuses rattled along the still lonely streets with a louder
noise than usual. Umbrellas were being shut up, and wayfarers, who had
taken shelter beneath the trees, ventured from one foot pavement to
another through muddy streams which were rushing into the gutters.

Jeanne noticed with special interest a lady and a little girl, both of
them fashionably dressed, who were standing beneath the awning of a
toy-shop near the bridge. Doubtless they had been caught in the
shower, and had taken refuge there. The child would fain have carried
away the whole shop, and had pestered her mother to buy her a hoop.
Both were now leaving, however, and the child was running along full
of glee, driving the hoop before her. At this Jeanne's melancholy
returned with intensified force; her doll became hideous. She longed
to have a hoop and to be down yonder and run along, while her mother
slowly walked behind her and cautioned her not to go too far. Then,
however, everything became dim again. At each minute she had to rub
the glass clear. She had been enjoined never to open the window; but
sh