From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up. ’ ‘Not, I trust, Nicholas Charvill?’ ‘Hardly. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. I told him that I was not ‘Alcide. She looked and felt like a fairy princess. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects.
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