Sidonie would open the window, and look out at the dark fields, an endless line of shadow.

Then, like innumerable stars, the first lanterns of the outer boulevards appeared near the fortifications.
So ended the ghastly day of rest of all those poor creatures.

The sight of Paris brought back to each one's mind the thought of the morrow's toil.

Dismal as her Sunday had been, Sidonie began to regret that it had passed.

She thought of the rich, to whom all the days of their lives were days of rest; and vaguely, as in a dream, the long park avenues of which she had caught glimpses during the day appeared to her thronged with those happy ones of earth, strolling on the fine gravel, while outside the gate, in the dust of the highroad, the poor man's Sunday hurried swiftly by, having hardly time to pause a moment to look and envy.
Such was little Chebe's life from thirteen to seventeen.
The years passed, but did not bring with them the slightest change.
Madame Chebe's cashmere was a little more threadbare, the little lilac frock had undergone a few additional repairs, and that was all.