one fine evening de Sigognac saw from afar the lofty
towers of his ancient chateau, illuminated by the setting sun, and
shining out in bold relief against the soft purple of the evening sky;
whilst one of the few remaining casements had caught the fiery sunset
glow, and looked like a great carbuncle set in the fine facade of
the stately old castle. This sight aroused a strange tenderness and
agitation in the young baron's breast. It was true that he had suffered
long and acutely in that dreary mansion, yet after all it was very
dear to him--far more than he knew before he had quitted it--and he was
deeply moved at seeing it again. In a few moments more the glorious god
of day had sunk behind the western horizon, and the chateau seemed
to retreat, until it became scarcely perceptible as the light faded,
forming only a vague, gray blot in the distance as the gloaming
succeeded to the glow. But de Sigognac knew every step of the way
perfectly, and soon turned from the highway into the neglected,
grass-grown road that led to the chateau. In the profound stillness,
which seemed wonderfully peaceful and pleasant to him, he fancied that
he could distinguish the distant barking of a dog, and that it sounded
like Miraut. He stopped to listen; yes, there could be no doubt about
it, and it was approaching. The baron gave a clear, melodious whistle--a
signal well known of old to Miraut-and in a few moments the faithful
dog, running as fast as his poor old legs could carry him, burst through
a break in the hedge--panting, barking, almost sobbing for joy. He
strove to jump up on the horse's neck to get at his beloved master; he
was beside himself with delight, and manifested it in the most frantic
manner, whilst de Sigognac bent down to pat his head and try to quiet
his wild transports. After bearing his master company a little way,
Miraut set off again at full speed, to announce the good news to
the others at the chateau--that is to say, to Pierre, Bayard, and
Beelzebub--and bounding into the kitchen where the old servant was
sitting, lost in sad thoughts, he barked in such a significant way that
Pierre knew at once that something unusual had happened.

"Can it be possible that the young master is coming? said he aloud,
rising, in compliance with Miraut's wishes, who was pulling at the
skirts of his coat, and imploring him with his eyes to bestir himself
and follow him. As it was quite dark by this time, Pierre lighted a pine
torch