The gates stood wide open in the darkness that enveloped the slumbering town.
Plassans was sleeping as sound as a top, quite unconscious, apparently, of the risk it was running in allowing the gates to remain unsecured.
It seemed like a city of the dead.

Rougon, taking courage, made his way into the Rue de Nice.

He scanned from a distance the corners of each successive lane; and trembled at every door, fearing lest he should see a band of insurgents rush out upon him.

However, he reached the Cours Sauvaire without any mishap.

The insurgents seemed to have vanished in the darkness like a nightmare.
Pierre then paused for a moment on the deserted pavement, heaving a deep sigh of relief and triumph.