CHAPTER XIII.
A SNEEZE OUT OF SEASON.
I had occasion to smile--nay, to laugh, at Madame again, within the space of four and twenty hours after the little scene treated of in the last chapter.
Villette owns a climate as variable, though not so humid, as that of any English town.

A night of high wind followed upon that soft sunset, and all the next day was one of dry storm--dark, beclouded, yet rainless,--the streets were dim with sand and dust, whirled from the boulevards.

I know not that even lovely weather would have tempted me to spend the evening-time of study and recreation where I had spent it yesterday.

My alley, and, indeed, all the walks and shrubs in the garden, had acquired a new, but not a pleasant interest; their seclusion was now become precarious; their calm--insecure.

That casement which rained billets, had vulgarized the once dear nook it overlooked; and elsewhere, the eyes of the flowers had gained vision, and the knots in the tree-boles listened like secret ears.