The Flood by Emile Zola, Fiction, Classics, Literary

Saint-Jory -- our home -- is situated at the bottom of a slope at about five hundred yards from the Garonne. Screens of tall poplars that divide the meadows, hide the river completely.We could see nothing. And still the cry rang out: "The Garonne! The Garonne!"Suddenly, on the wide road before us, appeared two men and three women, one of them holding a child in her arms. It was they who were crying out, distracted, running with long strides. They turned at times, looking behind with terrified faces, as if a band of wolves was pursuing them."What's the matter with them?" demanded Cyprien.It was the river -- it was "The Flood."