Madame had
brought her good luck. Pray God that madame might never have a sorrow,
but every good fortune! yes, might that come to pass in the name of
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost!

Helene stood upright gazing on Paris, while Mother Fetu vanished among
the tombs, muttering three _Paters_ and three _Aves_. The snow had
ceased falling; the last of the flakes had fluttered slowly and
wearily on to the roofs; and through the dissolving mist the golden
sun could be seen tinging the pearly-grey expanse of heaven with a
pink glow. Over Montmartre a belt of blue fringed the horizon; but it
was so faint and delicate that it seemed but a shadow such as white
satin might throw. Paris was gradually detaching itself from amidst
the smoke, spreading out more broadly with its snowy expanses the
frigid cloak which held it in death-like quiescence. There were now no
longer any fleeting specks of white making the city shudder, and
quivering in pale waves over the dull-brown house-fronts. Amidst the
masses of snow that girt them round the dwellings stood out black and
gloomy, as though mouldy with centuries of damp. Entire streets
appeared to be in ruins, as if undermined by some gunpowder explosion,
with roofs ready to give way and windows already driven in. But
gradually, as the belt of blue broadened in the direction of
Montmartre, there came a stream of light, pure and cool as the waters
of a spring; and Paris once more shone out as under a glass, which
lent even to the outlying districts the distinctness of a Japanese
picture.

Wrapped in her fur mantle, with her hands clinging idly to the cuffs
of the sleeves, Helene was musing. With the persistency of an echo one
thought unceasingly pursued her--a child, a fat, rosy daughter, had
been born to them. In her imagination she could picture her at the
love-compelling age when Jeanne had commenced to prattle. Baby girls
are such darlings when fourteen months old! She counted the
months--fourteen: that made two years when she took the remaining
period into consideration--exactly the time within a fortnight. Then
her brain conjured up a sunny picture of Italy, a realm of dreamland,
with golden fruits where lovers wandered through the perfumed nights,
with arms round one another's waists. Henri and Juliette were pacing
before her eyes beneath the light of the moon. They loved as husband
and wife do when passion is once more awakened within them. To think
of it--a tiny girl, ros