The others were stirring, displaying emotion around him. The
train had just left Juvisy, and Paris was at last near at hand, within a
short half-hour's journey. One and all were getting their things
together: the Sabathiers were remaking their little parcels, Elise
Rouquet was giving a last glance at her mirror. For a moment Madame de
Jonquiere again became anxious concerning La Grivotte, and decided that
as the girl was in such a pitiful condition she would have her taken
straight to a hospital on arriving; whilst Marie endeavoured to rouse
Madame Vincent from the torpor in which she seemed determined to remain.
M. de Guersaint, who had been indulging in a little siesta, also had to
be awakened. And at last, when Sister Hyacinthe had clapped her hands,
the whole carriage intonated the "Te Deum," the hymn of praise and
thanksgiving. "/Te Deum, laudamus, te Dominum confitemur/." The voices
rose amidst a last burst of fervour. All those glowing souls returned
thanks to God for the beautiful journey, the marvellous favours that He
had already bestowed on them, and would bestow on them yet again.
At last came the fortifications. The two o'clock sun was slowly
descending the vast, pure heavens, so serenely warm. Distant smoke, a
ruddy smoke, was rising in light clouds above the immensity of Paris like
the scattered, flying breath of that toiling colossus. It was Paris in
her forge, Paris with her passions, her battles, her ever-growling
thunder, her ardent life ever engendering the life of to-morrow.
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