But these boards were half rotten and had fallen away in places; and when the visitors passed the gate, they saw a man’s face against the iron bars, gazing earnestly into the garden, through a place where the boards were broken.
Madame Germeuil could not restrain a cry of surprise; Adeline was conscious of a secret thrill of emotion, and Edouard himself was moved at the sight of that face which he did not expect to find there.
The features of the man who was gazing into the garden were in fact calculated to cause a sort of terror at a first glance; black eyes, an olive-brown complexion, heavy moustaches, and a scar which started from the left eyebrow and extended across the forehead, all these imparted to the face a savage aspect which did not prepossess one in favor of the man who bore it.
“Ah! mon Dieu! what on earth is that?” said Madame Germeuil, suddenly stopping.
“Why, it is a man who is amusing himself looking through this gate,” replied Edouard, gazing at the stranger, who did not move but continued to examine the garden.
“I am almost afraid,” said Adeline under her breath.
“Almost, my dear child! you are very lucky! For my own part, I admit that I do not feel comfortable yet.”
As Madame Germeuil spoke, she walked away from the gate and moved closer to her son-in-law.
“What children you are, mesdames! What is there surprising in the fact that a man as he passes a garden which looks like a fine one should amuse himself by examining it for a moment? We have done that twenty times!”
“Yes, no doubt. But we haven’t faces with moustaches like that, well calculated to make any one shudder! Just look! he doesn’t move in the least! He doesn’t seem to pay the slightest attention to us.”