all the trees there was not so much as the twitter of a bird. I could
hear the river flowing swiftly below the wall, but I could not see it,
except as something dark, a ravine of gloom below, and beyond the walls
I did not venture to look. Why should I look? There was nothing,
nothing, as I knew. But fancy is so uncontrollable, and one's nerves so
little to be trusted, that it was a wise precaution to refrain. The
gloom itself was oppressive enough; the air seemed to creep with
apprehensions, and from time to time my heart fluttered with a sick
movement, as if it would escape from my control. But everything was
still, still as the dead who had been so often in recent days called out
of their graves by one or another. 'Enough to bring the dead out of
their graves.' What strange words to make use of! It was rather now as
if the world had become a grave in which we, though living, were held
fast.

Soon after this the dark world began to lighten faintly, and with the
rising of a little white mist, like a veil rolling upwards, I at last
saw the river and the fields beyond. To see anything at all lightened
my heart a little, and I turned homeward when this faint daylight
appeared. When I got back into the street, I found that the people at
last were stirring. They had all a look of half panic, half shame upon
their faces. Many were yawning and stretching themselves. 'Good morning,
M. le Maire,' said one and another; 'you are early astir.' 'Not so early
either,' I said; and then they added, almost every individual, with a
look of shame, 'We were so late this morning; we overslept
ourselves--like yesterday. The weather is extraordinary.' This was
repeated to me by all kinds of people. They were half frightened, and
they were ashamed. Pere Laserques was sitting moaning on the Cathedral
steps. Such a thing had never happened before. He had not rung the bell
for early mass; he had not opened the Cathedral; he had not called M. le
Cure. 'I think I must be going out of my senses,' he said; 'but then, M.
le Maire, the weather! Did anyone ever see such weather? I think there
must be some evil brewing. It is not for nothing that the seasons
change--that winter comes in the midst of summer.'

After this I went home. My mother came running to one door when I
entered, and my wife to another. '_O mon fils!_' and '_O mon ami!_' they
said, rushing upon me. They wept, these dear women. I could not at first
prevail upon them to tell me what