They were still half asleep, and shivering with cold under their wraps.  They could see one another but indistinctly in the darkness, and the mountain of heavy winter wraps in which each was swathed made them look like a gathering of obese priests in their long cassocks.  But two men recognized each other, a third accosted them, and the three began to talk.  “I am bringing my wife,” said one.  “So am I.”  “And I, too.”  The first speaker added:  “We shall not return to Rouen, and if the Prussians approach Havre we will cross to England.”  All three, it turned out, had made the same plans, being of similar disposition and temperament.

Still the horses were not harnessed.  A small lantern carried by a stable-boy emerged now and then from one dark doorway to disappear immediately in another.  The stamping of horses’ hoofs, deadened by the dung and straw of the stable, was heard from time to time, and from inside the building issued a man’s voice, talking to the animals and swearing at them.  A faint tinkle of bells showed that the harness was being got ready; this tinkle soon developed into a continuous jingling, louder or softer according to the movements of the horse, sometimes stopping altogether, then breaking out in a sudden peal accompanied by a pawing of the ground by an iron-shod hoof.

The door suddenly closed.  All noise ceased.

The frozen townsmen were silent; they remained motionless, stiff with cold.

A thick curtain of glistening white flakes fell ceaselessly to the ground; it obliterated all outlines, enveloped all objects in an icy mantle of foam; nothing was to be heard throughout the length and breadth of the silent, winter-bound city save the vague, nameless rustle of falling snow—­a sensation rather than a sound—­the gentle mingling of light atoms which seemed to fill all space, to cover the whole world.

The man reappeared with his lantern, leading by a rope a melancholy-looking horse, evidently being led out against his inclination.  The hostler placed him beside the pole, fastened the traces, and spent some time in walking round him to make sure that the harness was all right; for he could use only one hand, the other being engaged in holding the lantern.  As he was about to fetch the second horse he noticed the motionless group of travellers, already white with snow, and said to them:  “Why don’t you get inside the coach?  You’d be under shelter, at least.”

This did not seem to have occurred to them, and they at once took his advice.  The three men seated their wives at the far end of the coach, then got in themselves; lastly the other vague, snow-shrouded forms clambered to the remaining places without a word.

The floor was covered with straw, into which the feet sank.  The ladies at the far end, having brought with them little copper foot-warmers heated by means of a kind of chemical fuel, proceeded to light these, and spent some time in expatiating in low tones on their advantages, saying over and over again things which they had all known for a long time.