The storm was not passing over at all; a darkness was coming on and puffs of wind, sweeping along the ground, raised little clouds of white dust.

At the first clap of thunder, Mademoiselle Remanjou made the sign of the cross.

All the glances were anxiously directed to the clock over the looking-glass; it was twenty minutes to two.
"Here it goes!" cried Coupeau.

"It's the angels who're weeping." A gush of rain swept the pavement, along which some women flew, holding down their skirts with both hands.

And it was in the midst of this first shower that Madame Lorilleux at length arrived, furious and out of breath, and struggling on the threshold with her umbrella that would not close.
"Did any one ever see such a thing ?" she exclaimed.