On that same morning preceding the fête she was to give, Thélénie, desirous to escape for a moment the turmoil that reigned in her house, and still anxious to learn whom the dog belonged to who had defended the little boy when she attempted to chastise him, had ordered her horse saddled, and, leaping upon him with the fearless grace of a circus rider, galloped away in the direction of the Tower.
In a very short time the intrepid equestrian reached her destination. She skirted the park walls, then slackened her horse’s pace in order to examine the house, of which she could see the turret.
“How old and gloomy the place looks!” she said to herself. “The man who lives here must, in fact, be nothing better than a bear, a person who has no friends to entertain—for no one would ever come to see him. He is probably some old miser, or some newly-rich tradesman who knows nothing of society. But whoever he may be, I propose to inform the owner of this place that he has a very badly bred dog, that bites horses; and that, if he doesn’t muzzle him, I will have him shot the first time I fall in with him. I am curious to see what answer this man will make, who, they say, is such a savage. Such manners don’t frighten me.—Mon Dieu! is there no end to this park? Ah! there’s a gate, at last!”
Thélénie dismounted and rang a loud peal at the gate. An old, decrepit peasant woman answered the bell and asked her what she wanted.
“Is the owner of this place at home?”
“Monsieur Paul?”
“Paul or Pierre; I don’t know his name, but I presume he has some other than that. But no matter, is this gentleman at home?”
“Yes, madame; he has just come back from a visit to Paris.”
“I wish to speak with him; take me to him.”
“Bless me! you see, I don’t know whether monsieur will want to see you; he doesn’t like visits.”