oser around her; she breathed incense, and not the
fresh air. Here was not the abiding-place of her longing.

Away! away--a hastening without rest. The ephemeral fly knows
not repose, for her existence is flight.

She was out again among the gas candelabra, by a magnificent
fountain.

"All its streaming waters are not able to wash out the innocent
blood that was spilt here."

Such were the words spoken. Strangers stood around, carrying on
a lively conversation, such as no one would have dared to carry on
in the gorgeous hall of secrets whence the Dryad came.

A heavy stone slab was turned and then lifted. She did not
understand why. She saw an opening that led into the depths below. The
strangers stepped down, leaving the starlit air and the cheerful
life of the upper world behind them.

"I am afraid," said one of the women who stood around, to her
husband, "I cannot venture to go down, nor do I care for the wonders
down yonder. You had better stay here with me."

"Indeed, and travel home," said the man, "and quit Paris without
having seen the most wonderful thing of all--the real wonder of the
present period, created by the power and resolution of one man!"

"I will not go down for all that," was the reply.

"The wonder of the present time," it had been called. The Dryad
had heard and had understood it. The goal of her ardent longing had
thus been reached, and here was the entrance to it. Down into the
depths below Paris? She had not thought of such a thing; but now she
heard it said, and saw the strangers descending, and went after them.

The staircase was of cast iron, spiral, broad and easy. Below
there burned a lamp, and farther down, another. They stood in a
labyrinth of endless halls and arched passages, all communicating with
each other. All the streets and lanes of Paris were to be seen here
again, as in a dim reflection. The names were painted up; and every
house above had its number down here also, and struck its roots
under the macadamized quays of a broad canal, in which the muddy water
flowed onward. Over it the fresh streaming water was carried on
arches; and quite at the top hung the tangled net of gas-pipes and
telegraph-wires.

In the distance lamps gleamed, like a reflection from the
world-city above. Every now and then a dull rumbling was heard. This
came from the heavy wagons rolling over the entrance bridges.

Whither had the Dryad come?

You have, no doubt, heard of the CATACOMBS?