eir hotel, and thence with
their travelling-trunks to the railway station. Helene had made the
journey with the one thought of kneeling here. She remained
motionless, with drooping head, as if dreaming, and unconscious of the
cold ground that chilled her knees.

Meanwhile the wind was falling. Monsieur Rambaud had stepped to the
terrace, leaving her to the mute anguish which memory evoked. A haze
was stealing over the outlying districts of Paris, whose immensity
faded away in this pale, vague mist. Round the Trocadero the city was
of a leaden hue and lifeless, while the last snowflakes slowly
fluttered down in pale specks against the gloomy background. Beyond
the chimneys of the Army Bakehouse, the brick towers of which had a
coppery tint, these white dots descended more thickly; a gauze seemed
to be floating in the air, falling to earth thread by thread. Not a
breath stirred as the dream-like shower sleepily and rhythmically
descended from the atmosphere. As they neared the roofs the flakes
seemed to falter in their flight; in myriads they ceaselessly pillowed
themselves on one another, in such intense silence that even blossoms
shedding their petals make more noise; and from this moving mass,
whose descent through space was inaudible, there sprang a sense of
such intense peacefulness that earth and life were forgotten. A milky
whiteness spread more and more over the whole heavens though they were
still darkened here and there by wreaths of smoke. Little by little,
bright clusters of houses became plainly visible; a bird's-eye view
was obtained of the whole city, intersected by streets and squares,
which with their shadowy depths described the framework of the several
districts.

Helene had slowly risen. On the snow remained the imprint of her
knees. Wrapped in a large, dark mantle trimmed with fur, she seemed
amidst the surrounding white very tall and broad-shouldered. The
border of her bonnet, a twisted band of black velvet, looked like a
diadem throwing a shadow on her forehead. She had regained her
beautiful, placid face with grey eyes and pearly teeth. Her chin was
full and rounded, as in the olden days, giving her an air of sturdy
sense and determination. As she turned her head, her profile once more
assumed statuesque severity and purity. Beneath the untroubled
paleness of her cheeks her blood coursed calmly; everything showed
that honor was again ruling her life. Two tears had rolled from under
her eyelids;