author - "Emile Zola"
Claude Was Passing In Front Of The Hotel De Ville, And The Clock Was Striking Two O'clock In The Morning When The Storm Burst Forth. He Had Been Roaming Forgetfully About The Central Markets, During That Burning July Night, Like A Loitering Artist Enamoured Of Nocturnal Paris. Suddenly The Raindrops Came Down, So Large And Thick, That He Took To His Heels And Rushed, Wildly Bewildered, Along The Quai De La Greve. But On Reaching The Pont Louis Philippe He Pulled Up, Ragefully Breathless; He
Claude Was Passing In Front Of The Hotel De Ville, And The Clock Was Striking Two O'clock In The Morning When The Storm Burst Forth. He Had Been Roaming Forgetfully About The Central Markets, During That Burning July Night, Like A Loitering Artist Enamoured Of Nocturnal Paris. Suddenly The Raindrops Came Down, So Large And Thick, That He Took To His Heels And Rushed, Wildly Bewildered, Along The Quai De La Greve. But On Reaching The Pont Louis Philippe He Pulled Up, Ragefully Breathless; He