I know how the faux-peasant feels at the beginning of this chapter, when he’s at peace for a moment in the evening silence, surrounded by the sea-breeze. There’s something about strong winds and silence that I’ve always found really calming.

Of course it doesn’t last, and by the end of the chapter the tocsins are ringing and there’s no more peace, but I can’t feel too bad about this guy’s peace being disturbed. Except, knowing Hugo, the faux-peasant won’t be the loser in this situation.