People were still arriving, and a long procession of human ants kept coming along the narrow ribbon of road which crossed the distance, while very far away, on the Paris side, the nonpaying public, herding like sheep among the wood, loomed in a moving line of little dark spots under the trees on the skirts of the Bois.
Suddenly a cheering influence warmed the hundred thousand souls who covered this part of the plain like insects swarming madly under the vast expanse of heaven.

The sun, which had been hidden for about a quarter of an hour, made his appearance again and shone out amid a perfect sea of light.

And everything flamed afresh: the women's sunshades turned into countless golden targets above the heads of the crowd.

The sun was applauded, saluted with bursts of laughter.

And people stretched their arms out as though to brush apart the clouds.
Meanwhile a solitary police officer advanced down the middle of the deserted racecourse, while higher up, on the left, a man appeared with a red flag in his hand.
"It's the starter, the Baron de Mauriac," said Labordette in reply to a question from Nana.