seemed no means of reply; and knowing, as they did, that even the very air seemed to be full of spies, it was attended with no little danger. As soon as it was dark, Cecile and Nero started for the narrow street beneath the prison. It was completely deserted. The sentry, who walked in front of the Mairie, and sometimes extended his beat to the entrance of this street, seemed very lazy that night; he was continually gazing out into the Place; and, as no one was near to report him, occasionally sat down on one of the benches before the building.

Cécile gave the signal. Nero sniffed about, wagging his tail and soon ran up to her with another ball of paper in his mouth. She immediately returned home.

Louis' communication this time was nothing else than a project of escape, about which he had been meditating for the last week; there was no danger, except from discovery, if he could get what he wanted to assist him in carrying out his planand this was only a rope. The bar, he said, which went across the window, was a very small one, and, though he was not strong enough to wrench it out, as a man in full health and strength could easily do, he had been hard at work lately, digging into the plaster and wood-work with a small knife that he possessed, and felt certain that in a day or two he would easily be able to remove it; but there was a strong perpendicular bar in the window, dividing it into two unequal parts, and that they were unequal was his great chance of escape, for he had accurately measured and assured himself that, by taking off some of his clothes, he would be able to force his way through the larger aperture between this bar and the window-frame. the former he meant to fasten the rope, after he had tested and found it strong enough to bear his weight. By this means he hoped to be able to let himself down into the street. A dark, and if possible a wet, night must be chosen for the attempt. To Cécile and his family he trusted to find some way of hiding

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him. As to the rope, if they could procure one about thirty-five feet long, he had planned how to get it up to him. He had unravelled one of his stockings; he would tie the end of the thread to a little piece of wood or a stone heavy enough to make it descend; to this Cécile must attach a ball of string, which he would at once pull up. This, when unwound, he would let down in a similar manner as the thread, and with it draw the rope. All this would take time, and could not be done at once; it would require immense caution to avoid observation. To-morrow, about the same hour, he would look out for Cécile, who was to give the same signal, and to be provided with the ball of string.

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It was a hazardous enterprise, as the three good women felt, when they consulted together over Louis' letter that evening.

"Think if he were to be discovered by the sentinel just as he was getting out of the window, he would shoot him at once!" said Cécile.

"Or suppose the rope should not be strong enough, and broke, and Louis fell into the street and was killed!" suggested Madame Laforce.

"But we will take care that it is strong enough," said Jose phine.

"When he is once out of prison, how are we to hide him?" remarked Cécile ; "there are spies everywhere; he would not be safe for an hour in this house."

"We must consult with our friends, the pastor and the abbé, about that," said Josephine; "they will help us."

"It is so long since we have seen either of them, that I begin to fear that they are arrested, or some harm has happened them," replied her mother.

"To-morrow morning I shall go and see M. Gérome, and tell him about this plan, ask his advice, and see my father too, if possible," said Cécile.

"Perhaps M. Gérome will be able to give you a rope, Cécile ;

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if not, I will buy one; but, to avoid suspicion, I had better go for it to the other end of Paris, where no one knows me,” said Josephine.

"I dread the whole thing, my children," sighed Madame Laforce. "It is a perilous enterprise; it can never be successful.”

"Don't say so, my mother," said Josephine cheerfully. "If God's hand is over us to protect us, as I trust it is, through His mercy we shall succeed. I don't despair."

"Oh, Josephine! you always look at the bright side of everything," said her mother.

"Yes, my mother, when there is a bright side I do; but it is not always so, alas !"—and the tears started to her eyes; she turned her face away, so that her mother should not see them, gazing at the crucifix, which hung in the corner of the room.

Early next morning, Cécile started for the Faubourg St. Antoine. Every one by this time had grown accustomed to the continual roar of artillery, and to the hissing noise of the shells and projectiles, as they rushed through the air and then fell, generally with a terrible crash, on the roof of some house or public building. But to-day the bombardment seemed fiercer than ever; the streets were full of armed men hurrying hither and thither, while long trains of red omnibuses, crammed with wounded, wended their way in melancholy procession, towards the hospitals.

She found M. Gérome and his family greatly agitated; they had received another visit from the Commune the previous night, and had had some difficulty in satisfying their demands. They threatened to come again shortly, and to burn the house and factory to the ground, unless a very large sum of money were given them. The officer in command had no little difficulty in restraining his men, who were the scum of the population, from offering violence to M. Gérome, who had not yet recovered from his wound.

Cécile told her friends how she had received a communica