Thanks to the carpet of snow over the ground, all objects were easy to distinguish, even at some distance off. We saw the little white house half buried in the trees; we saw a thin column of smoke which, rising from the chimney, mounted up into the air; we saw, too, a riderless horse, saddled and bridled; but we did not see Choron.
We heard the dogs making a dismal howling, and that was all.
We looked at one another and shook our heads sadly,—instinct told us something unusual had happened, and we quickened our pace.
As we drew nearer nothing changed from our first view of things.
When we got within a hundred paces of the house we unconsciously slackened our steps, feeling that we were on the brink of discovering some dreadful mishap.
We came to a standstill when within fifty paces of the house.
"We must know what it is all about," said M. Deviolaine; so we set off afresh, silently, with anxious hearts, not uttering a word.
As we approached, the horse craned its neck towards us and, with smoking nostrils, whinnied to us.
The dogs rushed at their chains, champing wildly to be released from their kennels.
Ten steps from the house we perceived a spot of blood on the snow, and a discharged pistol close by it.