"It looks to me like an old ruin," said Alfred.
"It reminds me of Anne Radcliffe’s novels," said Edouard.
"Oh! messieurs, how far it extends! What a superb building! and windows! Heavens! what a lot of windows! It’s like the Château of Chambord!"
"So far as I can see, there is no glass in all those windows."
"Perhaps it wasn’t the custom to have glass in old times, my friend. Besides, I was told that there were some small repairs to be made.—But let us push on, messieurs, let us push on, I cannot contain myself; it seems to me that my château is holding out its arms to me.—Above all things, no more Robineau here, I entreat you; I shall not answer to that name again. Come, my boy; urge your donkey a bit, so that we may arrive sooner at yonder beautiful greensward."
The boy switched the beast, which, realizing that it was nearing home, asked nothing better than to fall into a trot. Robineau, a little surprised at first by that rapid pace, allowed the ass to trot on, for the pleasure due to the fact that he was approaching his château gave him courage to retain his seat.
They drew near the lawn in front of the château, and saw on the right and left a number of cottages of rather attractive appearance. Soon they were near enough to La Roche-Noire to distinguish a number of persons who seemed to be on the lookout in front of the château. They were François and all the people whom he, having been notified by the little peasant, had found disposed to leave their work in order to witness the new proprietor’s arrival. The number was not large: there were three peasants and five peasant women, together with Monsieur Cheval, the veterinary, who hoped to obtain the custom of the château, and Monsieur Férulus, who kept a small school in the neighborhood, and who also counted upon being tutor to the newcomer’s family. But in addition to these ten persons, there were a score or so of children, the majority very small, whom François easily collected, because children are never scarce in the country districts; and in order to make them useful, the valet had given to each of them a cowherd’s horn, the only instrument they were capable of playing. François wished the peasants to fire muskets in honor of his master’s arrival; but they had been unable to find any that were in condition to be fired, either in the château or anywhere in the neighborhood. In default of firearms the Auvergnats had armed themselves with their bagpipes; Monsieur Cheval had taken his drum from its hook—he was a very skilful performer on the drum, and played at all the fêtes and merrymakings in the neighborhood; and Monsieur Férulus, who played upon no instrument, but sang as if he had been dismissed from the Opéra, had composed a chorus, which he would be obliged to sing by himself, as the five peasant women refused to join in this.
François had stationed the concierge and the gardener at the windows of their respective lodges, looking on the road, to watch; they were to notify him as soon as they saw anyone, when he would give the signal to his party. At last the concierge, who was usually half seas over, and who had been considerably more than that since the preceding night, in order to receive his new master more becomingly—the concierge exclaimed with an ominous hiccough:
"Here comes some one! Here comes a donkey first of all!"
"It’s monseigneur!" said François; "now, my friends, all together, and make as much noise as you can!"