and bareheaded, who belabored a large gray mare, on which he rode
bareback, with his heels and a huge stick.

This man, after having passed the suburbs, turned into National Street,
formerly Imperial Street, crossed New-Market Square, and stopped at last
before the fine house which stands at the corner of Castle Street.

This was the house of the mayor of Sauveterre, M. Seneschal, a former
lawyer, and now a member of the general council.

Having alighted, the peasant seized the bell-knob, and began to ring so
furiously, that, in a few moments, the whole house was in an uproar.

A minute later, a big, stout servant-man, his eyes heavy with sleep,
came and opened the door, and then cried out in an angry voice,--

"Who are you, my man? What do you want? Have you taken too much wine?
Don't you know at whose house you are making such a row?"

"I wish to see the mayor," replied the peasant instantly. "Wake him up!"

M. Seneschal was wide awake.

Dressed in a large dressing-gown of gray flannel, a candlestick in his
hand, troubled, and unable to disguise his trouble, he had just come
down into the hall, and heard all that was said.

"Here is the mayor," he said in an ill-satisfied tone. "What do you want
of him at this hour, when all honest people are in bed?"