ter rushing along the gutters and
falling into the drains. And at last, above muddy-looking Paris, which
had assumed with the showers a dingy-yellow hue, the livid clouds
spread themselves out in uniform fashion, without stain or rift. The
rain was becoming finer, and was falling sharply and vertically; but
whenever the wind again rose, the grey hatching was curved into mighty
waves, and the raindrops, driven almost horizontally, could be heard
lashing the walls with a hissing sound, till, with the fall of the
wind, they again fell vertically, peppering the soil with a quiet
obstinacy, from the heights of Passy away to the level plain of
Charenton. Then the vast city, as though overwhelmed and lifeless
after some awful convulsion, seemed but an expanse of stony ruins
under the invisible heavens.

Jeanne, who had sunk down by the window, had wailed out once more,
"Mamma! mamma!" A terrible weariness deprived her limbs of their
strength as she lingered there, face to face with the engulfing of
Paris. Amidst her exhaustion, whilst the breeze played with her
tresses, and her face remained wet with rain, she preserved some taste
of the bitter pleasure which had made her shiver, while within her
heart there was a consciousness of some irretrievable woe. Everything
seemed to her to have come to an end; she realized that she was
getting very old. The hours might pass away, but now she did not even
cast a glance into the room. It was all the same to her to be
forgotten and alone. Such despair possessed the child's heart that all
around her seemed black. If she were scolded, as of old, when she was
ill, it would surely be very wrong. She was burning with fever;
something like a sick headache was weighing on her. Surely too, but a
moment ago, something had snapped within her. She could not prevent
it; she must inevitably submit to whatever might be her fate. Besides,
weariness was prostrating her. She had joined her hands over the
window-bar, on which she rested her head, and, though at times she
opened her eyes to gaze at the rain, drowsiness was stealing over her.

And still and ever the rain kept beating down; the livid sky seemed
dissolving in water. A final blast of wind had passed by; a monotonous
roar could be heard. Amidst a solemn quiescence the sovereign rain
poured unceasingly upon the silent, deserted city it had conquered;
and behind this sheet of streaked crystal Paris showed like some
phantom place, with quivering