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.