They had, indeed, said that it would be their last night--that Plassans would be swallowed up in the earth, or would evaporate into smoke before daybreak; and now, lying in their beds, they awaited the catastrophe in the most abject terror, fancying at times that their houses were already tottering.
Meantime Granoux still rang the tocsin.

When, in other respects, silence had again fallen upon the town, the mournfulness of that ringing became intolerable.

Rougon, who was in a high fever, felt exasperated by its distant wailing.

He hastened to the cathedral, and found the door open.
The beadle was on the threshold.
"Ah! that's quite enough!" he shouted to the man; "anybody would think there was some one crying; it's quite unbearable." "But it isn't me, sir," replied the beadle in a distressed manner.

"It's Monsieur Granoux, he's gone up into the steeple.