«Long before the first bugles sounded from the barracks within the city and the cantonments surrounding it, most of the people in the city were already awake. They did not need to rise from the straw mattresses and thin pallet beds of their hive-dense tenements, because few of them save the children had even lain down. Instead, they had huddled all night in one vast tongueless brotherhood of dread and anxiety, about the thin fires of braziers and meagre hearths, until the night wore at last away and a new day of anxiety and dread had begun. <…> Even before the bugles' echoes died away, the warrened purlieus were already disgorging them. …Hovel and tenement voiding into lane and alley and namelless cul-de-sac, and lane and alley and cul-de-sac compounding into streets as the trickles became streams and the streams became rivers, until the whole city seemed to be pouring down the broad boulevards converging like wheel spokes into the Place de Ville, filling the Place and then, pressed on by the weight of its own converging mass, flowing like an unrecoiling wave up to the blank gates of the Hôtel where the three sentries of the three coembattled nations flanked the three empty flagstaffs awaiting the three concordant flags» (Faulkner W. A Fable. — P. 3—4).