light and life had been going
on night after night, for all these years, during which one had sat in
the quiet drawing-room at Craddock Dene, trying wistfully, hopelessly,
to grasp the solid fact of an unknown vast reality, through a record
here and there. The journey was a long one to the Rue Boissy d'Anglas,
but tired as she was, Hadria did not wish it shorter. Even Hannah was
interested in the brilliantly lighted shops and _cafes_ and the
splendour of the boulevards. Now and again, the dark deserted form of a
church loomed out, lonely, amidst the gaiety of Parisian street-life.
Some electric lamp threw a distant gleam upon calm classic pillars,
which seemed to hold aloof, with a quality of reserve rarely to be
noticed in things Parisian. Hadria greeted it with a feeling of
gratitude.

The great Boulevard was ablaze and swarming with life. The _cafes_ were
full; the gilt and mirrors and the crowds of _consommateurs_ within, all
visible as one passed along the street, while, under the awning outside,
crowds were sitting smoking, drinking, reading the papers.

Was it really possible that only this morning, those quiet English
fields had been dozing round one, those sleepy villagers spreading their
slow words out, in expressing an absence of idea, over the space of time
in which a Parisian conveyed a pocket philosophy?

The cabman directed his vehicle down the Rue Royale, passing the stately
Madeleine, with its guardian sycamores, and out into the windy
spaciousness of the Place de la Concorde.

A wondrous city! Hannah pointed out the electric light of the Eiffel
Tower to her charge, and Martha put out her small hands, demanding the
toy on the spot.

The festooned lights of the Champs Elysees swung themselves up, in
narrowing line, till they reached the pompous arch at the summit, and
among the rich trees of those Elysian fields gleamed the festive lamps
of _cafes chantants_.

"_Si Madame desire encore quelque chose?_" The neat maid, in picturesque
white cap and apron, stood with her hand on the door of the little
bedroom, on one of the highest storeys of the _pension_. Half of one of
the long windows had been set open, and the sounds of the rolling of
vehicles over the smooth asphalte, mingled with those of voices, were
coming up, straight and importunate, into the dainty bedroom. The very
sounds seemed nearer and clearer in this keen-edged land. The bed stood
in one corner, canopied with white and blue; a thick