At the town-hall, the Provisional Commission had talked so much, without coming to any decision, that the members, whose stomachs were quite empty, began to feel alarmed again.  Rougon dismissed them to dine, saying that they would meet afresh at nine o’clock in the evening.  He was just about to leave the room himself, when Macquart awoke and began to pommel the door of his prison.  He declared he was hungry, then asked what time it was, and when his brother had told him it was five o’clock, he feigned great astonishment, and muttered, with diabolical malice, that the insurgents had promised to return much earlier, and that they were very slow in coming to deliver him.  Rougon, having ordered some food to be taken to him, went downstairs, quite worried by the earnestness with which the rascal spoke of the return of the insurgents.

When he reached the street, his disquietude increased.  The town seemed to him quite altered.  It was assuming a strange aspect; shadows were gliding along the footpaths, which were growing deserted and silent, while gloomy fear seemed, like fine rain, to be slowly, persistently falling with the dusk over the mournful-looking houses.  The babbling confidence of the daytime was fatally terminating in groundless panic, in growing alarm as the night drew nearer; the inhabitants were so weary and so satiated with their triumph that they had no strength left but to dream of some terrible retaliation on the part of the insurgents.  Rougon shuddered as he passed through this current of terror.  He hastened his steps, feeling as if he would choke.  As he passed a cafe on the Place des Recollets, where the lamps had just been lit, and where the petty cits of the new town were assembled, he heard a few words of terrifying conversation.

“Well!  Monsieur Picou,” said one man in a thick voice, “you’ve heard the news?  The regiment that was expected has not arrived.”

“But nobody expected any regiment, Monsieur Touche,” a shrill voice replied.

“I beg your pardon.  You haven’t read the proclamation, then?”

“Oh yes, it’s true the placards declare that order will be maintained by force, if necessary.”

“You see, then, there’s force mentioned; that means armed forces, of course.”

“What do people say then?”

“Well, you know, folks are beginning to feel rather frightened; they say that this delay on the part of the soldiers isn’t natural, and that the insurgents may well have slaughtered them.”

A cry of horror resounded through the cafe.  Rougon was inclined to go in and tell those bourgeois that the proclamation had never announced the arrival of a regiment, that they had no right to strain its meaning to such a degree, nor to spread such foolish theories abroad.  But he himself, amidst the disquietude which was coming over him, was not quite sure he had not counted upon a despatch of troops; and he did, in fact, consider it strange that not a single soldier had made his appearance.  So he reached home in a very uneasy state of mind.  Felicite, still petulant and full of courage, became quite angry at seeing him upset by such silly trifles.  Over the dessert she comforted him.