n a rumbling noise arose from the street. It was the column of
insurgents entering the Rue de la Banne.

He then had to leave the yellow drawing-room, after shaking his fist
at his sister-in-law, calling her an old jade, and threatening that he
would soon return. At the foot of the staircase, he took one of the men
who accompanied him, a navvy named Cassoute, the most wooden-headed of
the four, and ordered him to sit on the first step, and remain there.

"You must come and inform me," he said to him, "if you see the scoundrel
from upstairs return."

The man sat down heavily. When Macquart reached the pavement, he
raised his eyes and observed Felicite leaning out of the window of the
yellow-drawing room, watching the march past of the insurgents, as if
it was nothing but a regiment passing through the town to the strains
of its band. This last sign of perfect composure irritated him to such a
degree that he was almost tempted to go up again and throw the old woman
into the street. However, he followed the column, muttering in a hoarse
voice: "Yes, yes, look at us passing. We'll see whether you will station
yourself at your balcony to-morrow."

It was nearly eleven o'clock at night when the insurgents entered the
town by the Porte de Rome. The workmen remaining in Plassans had opened
the gate for them, in spite of the wailings of the keeper, from whom
they could only wrest the keys by force. This man, very jealous of his
office, stood dumbfoundered in the presence of the surging crowd. To
think of it! he, who never allowed more than one person to pass in at
a time, and then only after a prolonged examination of his face! And
he murmured that he was dishonoured. The men of Plassans were still
marching at the head of the column by way of guiding the others; Miette,
who was in the front rank, with Silvere on her left, held up her banner
more proudly than ever now that she could divine behind the closed
blinds the scared looks of well-to-do bourgeois startled out of their
sleep. The insurgents passed along the Rue de Rome and the Rue de la
Banne slowly and warily; at every crossway, although they well knew the
quiet disposition of the inhabitants, they feared they might be received
with bullets. The town seemed lifeless, however; there was scarcely
a stifled exclamation to be heard at the windows. Only five or six
shutters opened. Some old householder then appeared in his night-shirt,
candle in hand, and leant out to obtai