the beginning, to make himself personally recognized, to show the workmen
and servants of the chateau that the new owner was equal to the
situation. Now, Julien was not, by nature, a man of action, and the
delicately expressed fears of Reine Vincart made him uneasy in his mind.
When the carriage, suddenly turning a corner, stopped in front of the
gate of entrance, and he beheld, through the cast-iron railing, the long
avenue of ash-trees, the grass-grown courtyard, the silent facade, his
heart began to beat more rapidly, and his natural timidity again took
possession of him.

"The gate is closed, and they don't seem to be expecting you," remarked
the driver.

They dismounted. Noticing that the side door was half open, the coachman
gave a vigorous pull on the chain attached to the bell. At the sound of
the rusty clamor, a furious barking was heard from an adjoining outhouse,
but no one inside the house seemed to take notice of the ringing.

"Come, let us get in all the same," said the coachman, giving another
pull, and stealing a furtive look at his companion's disconcerted
countenance.

He fastened his horse to the iron fence, and both passed through the side
gate to the avenue, the dogs all the while continuing their uproar. Just
as they reached the courtyard, the door opened and Manette Sejournant
appeared on the doorstep.

"Good-morning, gentlemen," said she, in a slow, drawling voice, "is it
you who are making all this noise?"