"It was this foolish Lieverlé who made all the racket," said Sperver; "he sprang against the wall and wouldn't be quieted. Can you tell us the reason of it?"
"He probably heard the stumping of my wooden leg as I came up the tower stairs," replied the good-natured fellow with a laugh. Then setting his lantern on the table: "That will teach you, Master Gideon, to tie up your dogs. You have a weakness for dogs,—an absurd weakness. They will end by putting us all out of doors. Only a moment ago, as I was coming along the gallery, I met your Blitz; he snapped at my leg,—see, there are the marks of his teeth. A new leg, too, confound the cur!"
"Tie up my dogs? What an idea!" replied Sperver. "Dogs that are tied up are good for nothing; it makes them savage. Moreover, Lieverlé was fastened, and he has what was left of the cord around his neck still."
"It is not on my account that I am speaking, for whenever I see them coming, I always raise my stick and put my wooden leg first. It is only for discipline. The dogs ought to be in the kennels, the cats on the gutters, and the people in the Castle, according to my way of thinking."
Tobie sat down as he finished his sentence, and with his elbows resting on the table and his eyes beaming with satisfaction, he said in a confidential tone:
"You should know, gentlemen, that I am a bachelor this evening."
"How is that?"
"Marie Anne is sitting up with Gertrude in the Count's antechamber."
"Then you are in no hurry."
"Not the least bit."