noon
The plash of the fountains has a dull sound like the pouring out of molten lead . The horses ' hoofs strike visible sparks out of the grey stones in broad daylight . Many houses are shut , and one fancies that there must be a dead man in each whom no one will bury . A few great drops of rain make ink-stains on the pavement at noon , and there is an exasperating , half-sulphurous smell abroad . Late in the afternoon they fall again . An evil wind comes in hot blasts from all quarters at once -- then a low roar like an earthquake and presently a crash that jars upon the overwrought nerves -- great and plashing drops again , a sharp short flash -- then crash upon crash , deluge upon deluge , and the worst is over . Summer has received its first mortal wound .