The women were sad but speaking cheerily in order to hide their emotions.

In the long summer twilight, the boulevards were filling with crowds.

Those from the outlying districts were converging toward the centre of the city, as in the remote revolutionary days, banding together in groups, forming an endless multitude from which came shouts and songs.

These manifestations were passing through the centre under the electric lights that were just being turned on, the processions generally lasting until midnight, with the national banner floating above the walking crowds, escorted by the flags of other nations.
It was on one of these nights of sincere enthusiasm that the two friends heard an unexpected, astonishing piece of news.

"They have killed Jaures!" The groups were repeating it from one to another with an amazement which seemed to overpower their grief.