He enlivened the excursion by his laughter and strength of a peasant.
One Sunday, Camille, Therese and Laurent left for Saint-Ouen after breakfast, at about eleven o'clock.

The outing had been projected a long time, and was to be the last of the season.

Autumn approached, and the cold breezes at night, began to make the air chilly.
On this particular morning, the sky maintained all its blue serenity.
It proved warm in the sun and tepid in the shade.

The party decided that they must take advantage of the last fine weather.
Hailing a passing cab they set out, accompanied by the pitiful expressions of uneasiness, and the anxious effusions of the old mercer.
Crossing Paris, they left the vehicle at the fortifications, and gained Saint-Ouen on foot.

It was noon.