Some wore short jackets and others blouses; some were in velveteen trousers, others in linen overalls.

Their thick shoes made their tramp a heavy one; their hanging hands were often deformed by work.

And they seemed half asleep, not a smile was to be seen on any of those wan, weary faces turned yonder towards the everlasting task--the task which was begun afresh each day, and which--'twas their only chance--they hoped to be able to take up for ever and ever.

There was no end to that drove of toilers, that army of various callings, that human flesh fated to manual labour, upon which Paris preys in order that she may live in luxury and enjoyment.
Then the procession continued across the Boulevard de la Villette, the Boulevard de la Chapelle, and the Boulevard de Rochechouart, where one reached the height of Montmartre.

More and more workmen were ever coming down from their bare cold rooms and plunging into the huge city, whence, tired out, they would that evening merely bring back the bread of rancour.