It is the most fragile material which
soonest shows the flaw. The world's idol, Beauty, holds its
frailest tenure of existence in the one Temple where we most love
to worship it.
"And so you think, Louis, that our perilous undertaking has
really ended well by this time?" said Rose, anxiously, as she
lighted the lamp and placed the glass shade over it. "What a
relief it is only to hear you say you think we have succeeded at
last!"
"I said I hope, Rose," replied her brother.
"Well, even hoped is a great word from you, Louis--a great word
from any one in this fearful city, and in these days of Terror."
She stopped suddenly, seeing her brother raise his hand in
warning. They looked at each other in silence and listened. The
sound of footsteps going slowly past the house--ceasing for a
moment just beyond it--then going on again--came through the open
window. There was nothing else, out-of-doors or in, to disturb
the silence of the night--the deadly silence of Terror which, for
months past, had hung over Paris. It was a significant sign of
the times, that even a passing footstep, sounding a little
strangely at night, was subject for suspicion, both to brother
and sister--so common a subject, that they suspended their
conversation as a matter of course, without exchanging a word of
explanation, until the tramp of the strange footsteps had died
away.
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