"Oh, merely because this Count may be a dangerous man to have much to do with. I know nothing of your affairs, and of course you have no interest in mine. The Count will understand that, no doubt, and will not hold you responsible for anything I may do, if you choose to stay here longer."
"Well, I must stay here longer, in any case."
"Then there is no more to be said," answered the long-nosed man, extinguishing his lantern, which he wrapped up and put into his portmanteau. He then lay down upon his bed, without undressing.
I returned to my own couch and was soon asleep.
When I woke again, it was daylight. Monsieur de Pepicot and his portmanteau were gone. It occurred to me now, as I washed and dressed, that when he spoke of my departing by night he intended to make just such an unceremonious exit himself. In that case, I inferred, he had thought it only fair, as I had helped him to get into the chateau, that he should offer to help me to get out, for he had made no secret of his fears that we might find opposition to our doing so. But, if he had indeed fled, how had he contrived to get out in the middle of the night? As for his purpose in getting in, he must have accomplished that while on his midnight perambulations.
I went downstairs, but he was not in the hall, nor on the terrace nor in the court-yard. It was a fine morning, and I was for walking about. At one side of the court-yard the wall was pierced by a narrow gateway, which took me into a second court-yard, of which one of the further angles was filled by a quadrant of the great tower that rose toward heaven from a corner of the main chateau. There was a small door from this court-yard to the tower. This tower, for its bigness and height, took my eyes the first moment, but the next they were attracted by the living figures in the court-yard. These were Captain Ferragant and a pack of great hounds which he was marshalling before him, throwing a piece of meat now to one, now to another, calling out by name which animal was to catch. He indeed managed to keep them in some sort of order and from closing around him, and though they all barked and leaped at each throw, yet only the one whose name was called would dare actually to close jaws upon the titbit. This went on for some time, until at last one huge brute, leaping higher, seized the meat intended for another.
The red Captain swore a fierce oath, and, grasping a whip, called the interloping dog to come to him. The animal slunk back. The Captain advanced among the pack, still calling the hound in the most threatening voice. But the hound slunk further, growling and showing his teeth. The Captain sprang forward and brought down his whip. The dog, mutinous, made a snap at the Captain. The latter, now deeply enraged, threw aside the whip, caught the animal by the neck, lifted it high, and, with a swift contraction of his fingers, caused its eyes and tongue to protrude and its body to writhe and hang powerless. He then flung the dead creature to a corner of the yard, and looked at me with a smile half vaunting, half amused, as if to say, "That is how I can treat those who thwart my will," and to ridicule my wonder at his fury and strength.
I turned with a look of pity toward the victim of his anger. At that moment the Count de Lavardin entered the court-yard, and his glance followed mine. Having seen what I saw, he looked protestingly at the Captain.
"The brute was rebellious," said Ferragant.
"But one doesn't run across such dogs every day," complained the Count.