"I have been given a seat for the Opera-Comique to-night.

It would be a pity to waste it." Before leaving the house, Ligny asked Madame Simonneau: "Where have you put him ?" "In the bed," replied Madame Simonneau.

"It was more decent." He made no objection, and raising his eyes to the front of the house, he saw at the windows of the bedroom, through the muslin curtains, the light of the two candles which the housekeeper had placed on the bedside table.
"Perhaps," he said, "one might get a nun to watch by him." "It's not necessary," replied Madame Simonneau, who had invited some neighbours of her own sex, and had ordered her wine and meat.

"It's not necessary, I will watch by him myself." Ligny did not press the point.
The dog was still howling outside the gate.
Returning on foot to the barrier, he noticed, over Paris, a reddish glow which filled the whole sky.

Above the chimney-pots the factory chimneys rose grotesque and black, against this fiery mist, seeming to look down with a ridiculous familiarity upon the mysterious conflagration of a world.