theremarywouldcertainlybefound.

"sanctamaria!"resoundedfromtheinterior.incensefloatedthroughtheloftypaintedandgildedaisles,whereasolemntwilightreigned.

itwasthechurchofthemadeleine.

cladinblackgarmentsofthemostcostlystuffs,fashionedaccordingtothelatestmode,therichfeminineworldofparisglidedacrosstheshiningpavement.thecrestsoftheproprietorswereengravedonsilvershieldsonthevelvet-boundprayer-books,andembroideredinthecornersofperfumedhandkerchiefsborderedwithbrusselslace.afewoftheladieswerekneelinginsilentprayerbeforethealtars;othersresortedtotheconfessionals.

anxietyandfeartookpossessionofthedryad;shefeltasifshehadenteredaplacewhereshehadnorighttobe.herewastheabodeofsilence,thehallofsecrets.everythingwassaidinwhispers,everywordwasamystery.

thedryadsawherselfenvelopedinlaceandsilk,likethewomenofwealthandofhighbirtharoundher.had,perhaps,everyoneofthemalonginginherbreast,likethedryad?

adeep,painfulsighwasheard.diditescapefromsomeconfessionalinadistantcorner,orfromthebosomofthedryad?shedrewtheveilcloseraroundher;shebreathedincense,andnotthefreshair.herewasnottheabiding-placeofherlonging.

away!away-ahasteningwithoutrest.theephemeralflyknowsnotrepose,forherexistenceisflight.

shewasoutagainamongthegascandelabra,byamagnificentfountain.

"allitsstreamingwatersarenotabletowashouttheinnocentbloodthatwasspilthere."

suchwerethewordsspoken.strangersstoodaround,carryingonalivelyconversation,suchasnoonewouldhavedaredtocarryoninthegorgeoushallofsecretswhencethedryadcame.

aheavystoneslabwasturnedandthenlifted.shedidnotunderstandwhy.shesawanopeningthatledintothedepthsbelow.thestrangerssteppeddown,leavingthestarlitairandthecheerfullifeoftheupperworldbehindthem.

"iamafraid,"saidoneofthewomenwhostoodaround,toherhusband,"icannotventuretogodown,nordoicareforthewondersdownyonder.youhadbetterstayherewithme."

"indeed,andtravelhome,"saidtheman,"andquitpariswithouthavingseenthemostwonderfulthingofall-therealwonderofthepresentperiod,createdbythepowerandresolutionofoneman!"

"iwillnotgodownforallthat,"wasthereply.

"thewonderofthepresenttime,"ithadbeencalled.thedryadhadheardandhadunderstoodit.thegoalofherardentlonginghadthusbeenreached,andherewastheentrancetoit.downintothedepthsbelowparis?shehadnotthoughtofsuchathing;butnowshehearditsaid,andsawthestrangersdescending,andwentafterthem.

thestaircasewasofcastiron,spiral,broadandeasy.belowthereburnedalamp,andfartherdown,another.theystoodinalabyrinthofendlesshallsandarchedpassages,allcommunicatingwitheachother.allthestreetsandlanesofparisweretobeseenhereagain,asinadimreflection.thenameswerepaintedup;andevery,houseabovehaditsnumberdownherealso,andstruckitsrootsunderthemacadamizedquaysofabroadcanal,inwhichthemuddywaterflowedonward.overitthefreshstreamingwaterwascarriedonarches;andquiteatthetophungthetanglednetofgas-pipesandtelegraph-wires.

inthedistancelampsgleamed,likeareflectionfromtheworld-cityabove.everynowandthenadullrumblingwasheard.thiscamefromtheheavywagonsrollingovertheentrancebridges.

whitherhadthedryadcome?