He pondered over the growth of that family to which he belonged, over the different branches growing from one parent stock, whose sap carried identical germs to the farthest twigs, which bent in divers ways according to the sunshine or shade in which they lived.

And for a moment, as by the glow of a lightning flash, he thought he could espy the future of the Rougon-Macquart family, a pack of unbridled, insatiate appetites amidst a blaze of gold and blood.
Aunt Dide, however, had ceased her wailing chant at the mention of Silvere's name.

For a moment she listened anxiously.

Then she broke out into terrible shrieks.

Night had now completely fallen, and the black room seemed void and horrible.