A narrow path, which extended along this ditch, led from the stairs to the door of the hut; the rest of the ground was concealed under a mass of trellis-work, which sheltered two rows of clumsy tables, fastened to the ground. A worn-out iron sign swung heavily backwards and forwards on its creaking hinges, and through the rust that covered it might still be seen a red heart pierced with an arrow. The sign was supported by a post erected above this cave,—this real human burrow.
A thick and moist fog was added to the rain as night approached.
"What think you of this hôtel, young fellow?" inquired the Schoolmaster.
"Why, thanks to the torrents that have fallen for the last fortnight, it must be deliciously fresh. But come on."
"One moment,—I wish to know if the landlord is in. Hark!"
The ruffian then, thrusting his tongue forcibly against his palate, produced a singular noise,—a sort of guttural sound, loud and lengthened, something like P-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!!! A similar note came from the depths of the hovel.
"He's there," said the Schoolmaster. "Pardon me, young man,—respect to the ladies,—allow the Chouette to pass first; I follow you. Mind how you come,—it's slippery."