distance, the wedding guests began to get impatient, enraged against
the storm, cursing and shaking their fists at the clouds. A fine and
interminable rain now poured down from the sky which had become an ashy
grey.

"It's past two o'clock," cried Madame Lorilleux. "We can't stop here for
ever."

Mademoiselle Remanjou, having suggested going into the country all
the same, even though they went no farther than the moat of the
fortifications, the others scouted the idea: the roads would be in
a nice state, one would not even be able to sit down on the grass;
besides, it did not seem to be all over yet, there might perhaps be
another downpour. Coupeau, who had been watching a workman, completely
soaked, yet quietly walking along in the rain, murmured:

"If that animal My-Boots is waiting for us on the Route de Saint-Denis,
he won't catch a sunstroke."

That made some of them laugh; but the general ill-humor increased.
It was becoming ludicrous. They must decide on something unless they
planned to sit there, staring at each other, until time for dinner. So
for the next quarter of an hour, while the persistent rain continued,
they tried to think of what to do. Bibi-the-Smoker suggested that they
play cards. Boche slyly suggesting a most amusing game, the game of true
confessions. Madame Gaudron thought of going to eat onion tarts on the
Chaussee Clignancourt. Madame Lerat wanted to hear some stories. Gaudron
said he wasn't a bit put out and thought they were quite well off where
they were, out of the downpour. He suggested sitting down to dinner
immediately.