The early sunlight fell soft and fine upon the river Seine and the quays and buildings of Paris.

The movement and buzz of people had, in the brightness, something of the small ecstasy of bees emerging from the hive with the winter pall just slipped.

Distant bells were ringing, hope enticed the grimmest poverty.

Much, after all, might be taken good-naturedly! A great, ornate coach, belonging to a person of quality, crossed the Seine from the south to the north bank.

Three gentlemen, seated within, observed each in his own fashion the soft, shining day.