tone, towered the vast mass of the Opera
House; then there were other edifices, cupolas and towers, the
Vendome Column, the church of Saint-Vincent de Paul, the tower of
Saint-Jacques; and nearer in, the massive cube-like pavilions of the
new Louvre and the Tuileries, half-hidden by a wood of chestnut trees.
On the left bank the dome of the Invalides shone with gilding; beyond
it the two irregular towers of Saint-Sulpice paled in the bright
light; and yet farther in the rear, to the right of the new spires
of Sainte-Clotilde, the bluish Pantheon, erect on a height, its fine
colonnade showing against the sky, overlooked the city, poised in the
air, as it were, motionless, with the silken hues of a captive balloon.

Helene's gaze wandered all over Paris. There were hollows, as could be
divined by the lines of roofs; the Butte des Moulins surged upward,
with waves of old slates, while the line of the principal boulevards
dipped downward like a gutter, ending in a jumble of houses whose
tiles even could no longer be seen. At this early hour the oblique sun
did not light up the house-fronts looking towards the Trocadero; not a
window-pane of these threw back its rays. The skylights on some roofs
alone sparkled with the glittering reflex of mica amidst the red of
the adjacent chimney-pots. The houses were mostly of a sombre grey,
warmed by reflected beams; still rays of light were transpiercing
certain districts, and long streets, stretching in front of Helene,
set streaks of sunshine amidst the shade. It was only on the left that
the far-spreading horizon, almost perfect in its circular sweep, was
broken by the heights of Montmartre and Pere-Lachaise. The details so
clearly defined in the foreground, the innumerable denticles of the
chimneys, the little black specks of the thousands of windows, grew
less and less distinct as you gazed farther and farther away, till
everything became mingled in confusion--the pell-mell of an endless
city, whose faubourgs, afar off, looked like shingly beaches, steeped
in a violet haze under the bright, streaming, vibrating light that
fell from the heavens.

Helene was watching the scene with grave interest when Jeanne burst
gleefully into the room.

"Oh, mamma! look here!"

The child had a big bunch of wall-flowers in her hand. She told, with
some laughter, how she had waylaid Rosalie on her return from market
to peep into her basket of provisions. To rummage in this basket was a
great d