I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. The latch had not fully caught. There was a confused impression of livery carriages and whips with white favors, people fussily wanting other people to get in before them, and then the church. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. The weather harmonized with their feelings. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. It's precisely what such a simpleton would do.
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