He stopped in narrow street (why narrow I cannot imagine), quite short, containing, however, three cafes - all pitchpine and zinc and a too cheap simplicity. It was Mi-Careme and the air was full of the sounds of uncouth instruments. A little troupe of masqueurs arrived from the outskirts, where the large residences of the Creusot managers are, and passed into a cafe. The whole impression was terribly forlorn, ugly, and dispiriting. It was a beautiful evening, with a warm, caressing wind, and flashes of lightning.