But then he suddenly caught sight of Rougon, and, rising with a swagger, he waited for him to pass. 'I haven't been to see you yet,' he said, again tapping his cap. 'I hope you're not offended. That mountebank Du Poizat has told you some fine stories about me, I dare say. But they are all lies, my good fellow, as I can prove to you whenever you like. Well, for my part I don't bear you any ill will; and I'll prove it by giving you my address, 25 Rue du Bon Puits, at La Chapelle, five minutes' walk from the barrier. So if I can be of any further use to you, you see, you have merely to let me know.' Then he walked away with a slouching gait. For a moment he glanced round as if taking his bearings, and then, shaking his fist at the Tuileries, which showed grey and gloomy beneath the black sky at the end of the avenue, he cried: 'Long live the Republic!' Rougon passed out of the garden and went up the Champs Élysées. He experienced a strong desire to go and look at his little house in the Rue Marbeuf. He intended to quit his official residence on the morrow and again instal himself in his old home. He felt tired but calm, with just a slight pain in the depths of his being. He already dreamt hazily of some day proving his powers by again doing great things. Every now and then, too, he raised his head and looked at the sky. The rain did not seem inclined to come down just yet, though the horizon was streaked with coppery clouds, and loud claps of thunder travelled over the deserted avenue of the Champs Élysées, with a crash like that of some detachment of artillery at full gallop. The crests of the trees shook with the reverberation. As Rougon turned the corner of the Rue Marbeuf the first drops of rain began to fall. A brougham was standing in front of the house, and Rougon found his wife examining the rooms, measuring the windows and giving orders to an upholsterer. He felt much surprised, but she explained to him that she had just seen her brother, M. Beulin-d'Orchère. The judge, who had already heard of Rougon's fall, had desired to overwhelm his sister, and after informing her of his approaching assumption of office as Minister of Justice, he had again tried to create discord between her and her husband. Madame Rougon, however, had merely ordered her brougham to be got ready, so that she might at once prepare for removal into their old house. She still retained a calm, pale, nun-like face, the unchangeable serenity of a good housewife. And with faint steps she went through the rooms, again taking possession of that house which she had indued with such cloistral quietude. Her only thought was to administer like a faithful stewardess the fortune which had been entrusted to her. Rougon felt quite touched at the sight of her spare withered face and all her scrupulous attention.