the joys, and the disappointments of the inventor. It had
been long, very long. At the last moment he had discovered a defect. The
crane did not work well; and he had had to revise his plans and drawings.
At last, on that very day, the new machine had been tried. Everything had
succeeded to his heart's desire. The worthy man was triumphant. It seemed
to him that he had paid a debt, by giving the house of Fromont the
benefit of a new machine, which would lessen the labor, shorten the hours
of the workmen, and at the same time double the profits and the
reputation of the factory. He indulged in beautiful dreams as he plodded
along. His footsteps rang out proudly, emphasized by the resolute and
happy trend of his thoughts.

Quickening his pace, he reached the corner of Rue des
Vieilles-Haudriettes. A long line of carriages was standing in front of
the factory, and the light of their lanterns in the street, the shadows
of the drivers seeking shelter from the snow in the corners and angles
that those old buildings have retained despite the straightening of the
sidewalks, gave an animated aspect to that deserted, silent quarter.

"Yes, yes! to be sure," thought the honest fellow, "we have a ball at our
house." He remembered that Sidonie was giving a grand musical and dancing
party, which she had excused him from attending, by the way, knowing that
he was very busy.

Shadows passed and repassed behind the fluttering veil of the curtains;
the orchestra seemed to follow the movements of those stealthy
apparitions with the rising and falling of its muffled notes. The guests
were dancing. Risler let his eyes rest for a moment on that
phantasmagoria of the ball, and fancied that he recognized Sidonie's
shadow in a small room adjoining the salon.

She was standing erect in her magnificent costume, in the attitude of a
pretty woman before her mirror. A shorter shadow behind her, Madame
Dobson doubtless, was repairing some accident to the costume, retieing
the knot of a ribbon tied about her neck, its long ends floating down to
the flounces of the train. It was all very indistinct, but the woman's
graceful figure was recognizable in those faintly traced outlines, and
Risler tarried long admiring her.

The contrast on the first floor was most striking. There was no light
visible, with the exception of a little lamp shining through the lilac
hangings of the bedroom. Risler noticed that circumstance, and as the
little girl had been