They were still half asleep, and shivered with cold under their wraps.  They could not see each other well in the darkness, and bundled in their heavy winter clothing, their bodies looked like fat priests in their long cassocks.  Two men recognized each other; a third joined them; they talked:—­“I am taking my wife with me—­” said one;—­“So am I”—­“And I too”—­The first speaker continued, “We shall not come back to Rouen, and if the Prussians should threaten Havre, we shall cross over to England”—­They all had the same plans, being of similar disposition.

However, the horses were not yet harnessed.  A small lantern, carried by a stable boy, came now and then out of a dark doorway, and immediately disappeared in another.  Horses were stamping the ground, but their hooves being covered with dung and straw, the noise of the stamping was deadened; a man’s voice talking to the animals and swearing at them was heard from the rear of the building.  A faint tickle grew soon into a clear and continuous jingling, rhythmical with the movements of the horses, now stopping, now resuming in a sudden peal accompanied by the deadened noise of an iron-shod hoof, pawing the ground.

The door closed suddenly.  All the noise ceased.  The frozen passengers stopped talking:  they stood motionless and stiff.

An uninterrupted curtain of white, glistening flakes ceaselessly fell on the ground; it obliterated the forms of things and powdered them with an icy foam; and in the great silence of the quiet City, buried under the winter, one could hear nothing save that vague, nameless rustle of the falling snow—­a sensation rather than a sound—­an intermingling of light atoms which seemed to fill the space and cover the whole world.

The man reappeared with his lantern, leading by a rope a sad-looking horse who followed him reluctantly.  He placed him against the shaft, fastened the straps, turned around for a long time to make sure that the harness was properly fixed, for he could use only one hand, the other holding the lantern.  As he was going to bring the second animal, he noticed that all the travelers were standing still, already white with snow, and he told them:—­“Why don’t you get in the coach? there you would be under shelter at least.”

No doubt this had not occurred to them; at once there was a rush to get in.  The three men installed their wives in the rear of the coach and then got in themselves; one after the other, the remaining indistinct and snow covered forms took the last seats without exchanging a single word.

The floor was covered with straw into which the feet sank.  The ladies in the rear, having brought with them small copper foot-warmers, heated by means of a chemical coal, lighted these apparatuses, and for some time, in a low voice, they enumerated their advantages, repeating to each other things which they had not known for a long time.

At last six horses instead of four having been harnessed to the coach, on account of the difficult roads and heavier draft, a voice from the outside asked:  “Is everybody in?”—­To which a voice replied from the inside:—­“Yes”—­And the coach started.