eemed
to him quite altered. It was assuming a strange aspect; shadows were
gliding along the footpaths, which were growing deserted and silent,
while gloomy fear seemed, like fine rain, to be slowly, persistently
falling with the dusk over the mournful-looking houses. The babbling
confidence of the daytime was fatally terminating in groundless panic,
in growing alarm as the night drew nearer; the inhabitants were so weary
and so satiated with their triumph that they had no strength left but to
dream of some terrible retaliation on the part of the insurgents. Rougon
shuddered as he passed through this current of terror. He hastened his
steps, feeling as if he would choke. As he passed a cafe on the Place
des Recollets, where the lamps had just been lit, and where the petty
cits of the new town were assembled, he heard a few words of terrifying
conversation.

"Well! Monsieur Picou," said one man in a thick voice, "you've heard the
news? The regiment that was expected has not arrived."

"But nobody expected any regiment, Monsieur Touche," a shrill voice
replied.

"I beg your pardon. You haven't read the proclamation, then?"

"Oh yes, it's true the placards declare that order will be maintained by
force, if necessary."

"You see, then, there's force mentioned; that means armed forces, of
course."

"What do people say then?"

"Well, you know, folks are beginning to feel rather frightened; they say
that this delay on the part of the soldiers isn't natural, and that the
insurgents may well have slaughtered them."

A cry of horror resounded through the cafe. Rougon was inclined to go in
and tell those bourgeois that the proclamation had never announced the
arrival of a regiment, that they had no right to strain its meaning
to such a degree, nor to spread such foolish theories abroad. But he
himself, amidst the disquietude which was coming over him, was not quite
sure he had not counted upon a despatch of troops; and he did, in fact,
consider it strange that not a single soldier had made his appearance.
So he reached home in a very uneasy state of mind. Felicite, still
petulant and full of courage, became quite angry at seeing him upset by
such silly trifles. Over the dessert she comforted him.

"Well, you great simpleton," she said, "so much the better, if the
prefect does forget us! We shall save the town by ourselves. For my
part, I should like to see the insurgents return, so that we might
receive them with bulle