I stepped on something soft----" Then he looked at his boot; its heel was covered with blood.

While he was putting on a pair of shoes, Felicite resumed: "Well! so much the better! It's over now.

People won't be inclined to repeat that you only fire at mirrors." The fusillade which the Rougons had planned in order that they might be finally recognised as the saviours of Plassans, brought the whole terrified and grateful town to their feet.

The day broke mournfully with the grey melancholy of a winter-morning.

The inhabitants, hearing nothing further, ventured forth, weary of trembling beneath their sheets.