"Oh! you wouldn’t have to knock like that at midnight!" said the shepherd, shaking his head. "You’d find a difference then, I tell you!"
"Well," said Alfred, "as we can’t get into the White House unless by scaling the walls, which would be a little too much after the style of the sons of Aymon or Ogier the Dane, let us try the cottage; perhaps we shall be more fortunate there."
"Oh! you won’t find anybody there either, messieurs," said Claude, "for at this time of day Isaure always drives her goats to pasture in the mountain."
"In that case," said Robineau, "it seems to me that we might dispense with knocking at every door we see."
Alfred and Edouard left their companion to confide his reflections to the shepherd. They walked toward the cottage, which was surrounded by fine trees and by small squares of ground in which flowers were cultivated with care.
"This place looks like a palace beside the hovel where we slept last night," said Alfred; "we may look upon this cottage as the château of Chadrat."
"Yes, it’s a charming spot," said Edouard, stopping to examine the rustic structure. "These beautiful trees whose shade seems to protect this modest abode—and the flowers—and the turf!—Do you know, my dear Alfred, I would gladly pass my life here!"
"Your life! oh! that is too long; but a week, with a lovely woman—I don’t say no to that.—But let us see if the mistress of this cottage corresponds with the idea I have formed of her."
The door was closed and locked. Alfred knocked, called, looked in the windows; no one appeared, but they heard on the other side of the door the barking of a dog who seemed anxious to interview the visitors.
"The house is well guarded, at all events," said Alfred.