as retained to sing Adam's famous Noel.

The whole Quarter seemed alive with the reveillon. It was a clear
frosty night, with a splendid moon just past the full, and most
exhilarating was the walk along the quays on the Rive Gauche, over the
Pont de la Concorde and across the Place thereof, and up the thronged
Rue de la Madeleine to the massive Parthenaic place of worship that
always has such a pagan, worldly look of smug and prosperous
modernity.

They struggled manfully, and found standing and kneeling room among
that fervent crowd, and heard the impressive service with mixed
feelings, as became true Britons of very advanced liberal and
religious opinions; not with the unmixed contempt of the proper
British Orthodox (who were there in full force, one may be sure).

But their susceptible hearts soon melted at the beautiful music, and
in mere sensuous _attendrissement_ they were quickly in unison with
all the rest.

For as the clock struck twelve, out pealed the organ, and up rose the
finest voice in France:

"Minuit, Chretiens! c'est l'heure solennelle
Ou l'Homme-Dieu descendit parmi nous!"

And a wave of religious emotion rolled over Little Billee and
submerged him; swept him off his little legs, swept him out of his
little self, drowned him in a great seething surge of love--love of
his kind, love of love, love of life, love of death, love of all that
is and ever was and ever will be--a very large order indeed, even for
Little Billee.

And it seemed to him that he stretched out his arms for love to one
figure especially beloved beyond all the rest--one figure erect on
high, with arms outstretched to him, in more than common fellowship of
need: not the sorrowful Figure crowned with thorns, for it was in the
likeness of a woman; but never that of the Virgin Mother of our Lord.

It was Trilby, Trilby, Trilby! a poor fallen sinner and waif, all but
lost amid the scum of the most corrupt city on earth. Trilby, weak and
mortal like himself, and in woeful want of pardon! and in her gray
dove-like eyes he saw the shining of so great a love that he was
abashed; for well he knew that all that love was his, and would be his
forever, come what would or could.

"Peuple, debout! Chante ta delivrance!
_Noel! Noel! Voici le Redempteur!_"

So sang and rang and pealed and echoed the big deep metallic baritone
bass--above the organ, above the incense, above everything else in the
world--till the very universe seem