Neither Madame Fauconnier nor Mademoiselle Remanjou would on any consideration leave the staircase.

The thought of the pavement below made their blood curdle, and they contented themselves with glancing out of the little door.

Madame Lerat, who was bolder, went round the narrow terrace, keeping close to the bronze dome; but, _mon Dieu_, it gave one a rude emotion to think that one only had to slip off.

The men were a little paler than usual as they stared down at the square below.

You would think you were up in mid-air, detached from everything.