Sometimes he stared into his wine, sometimes into vacancy, sometimes at the vaulted ceiling above.

He harshly rebuffed the landlord and the waiter who tried to accost him, but when the peasant's prediction was fulfilled and the thunderstorm of the preceding night was followed at midnight by one equally severe, he arose and left the hostelry.

The rain tempted him into the open air.

The taproom was so sultry, so terribly sultry.

The moisture of the heavens would refresh him..