st
expanse which lay beneath the window. This went on for hours and
hours. Paris was slowly waning on the horizon, like some phantom city;
heaven and earth mingled together in an indistinguishable jumble; and
still and ever with unflagging persistency did the grey rain fall.

CHAPTER XXI.

Night had long gathered in when Helene returned. From her umbrella the
water dripped on step after step, whilst clinging to the balusters she
ascended the staircase. She stood for a few seconds outside her door
to regain her breath; the deafening rush of the rain still sounded
in her ears; she still seemed to feel the jostling of hurrying
foot-passengers, and to see the reflections from the street-lamps
dancing in the puddles. She was walking in a dream, filled with the
surprise of the kisses that had been showered upon her; and as she
fumbled for her key she believed that her bosom felt neither remorse
nor joy. Circumstances had compassed it all; she could have done naught
to prevent it. But the key was not to be found; it was doubtless inside,
in the pocket of her other gown. At this discovery her vexation was
intense; it seemed as though she were denied admission to her own
home. It became necessary that she should ring the bell.

"Oh! it's madame!" exclaimed Rosalie as she opened the door. "I was
beginning to feel uneasy."

She took the umbrella, intending to place it in the kitchen sink, and
then rattled on:

"Good gracious! what torrents! Zephyrin, who has just come, was
drenched to the skin. I took the liberty, madame, of keeping him to
dinner. He has leave till ten o'clock."

Helene followed her mechanically. She felt a desire to look once more
on everything in her home before removing her bonnet.

"You have done quite right, my girl," she answered.

For a moment she lingered on the kitchen threshold, gazing at the
bright fire. Then she instinctively opened the door of a cupboard, and
promptly shut it again. Everything was in its place, chairs and tables
alike; she found them all again, and their presence gave her pleasure.
Zephyrin had, in the meantime, struggled respectfully to his feet. She
nodded to him, smiling.

"I didn't know whether to put the roast on," began the maid.

"Why, what time is it?" asked Helene.

"Oh, it's close on seven o'clock, madame."

"What! seven o'clock!"

Astonishment riveted her to the floor; she had lost all consciousness
of time, and seemed to awa