traveled all day long, and felt very much fatigued; so that nothing was
said by any of them as they sat there waiting for the footman's return.
At length, after about half an hour, a hackney-coach drove up, which the
footman had procured from an inn not far away, and in this undignified
manner they prepared to complete their journey. A long drive of four or
five miles now remained; and when at length they reached the park gate
none of them had much strength left. Here the coach stopped, and the
footman rang the bell loudly and impatiently.

There was no immediate answer to this summons, and the footman rang
again and again; and finally, as the delay still continued, he gave the
bell a dozen tremendous pulls in quick succession. This brought an
answer, at any rate; for a man appeared, emerging from a neighboring
grove, who walked toward the gate with a rapid pace. He was a short,
bull-necked, thickset, broad-shouldered man, with coarse black hair and
heavy, matted beard. His nose was flat on his face, his chin was square,
and he looked exactly like a prize-fighter. He had a red shirt, with a
yellow spotted handkerchief flung about his neck, and his corduroy
trowsers were tucked into a pair of muddy boots.

The moment he reached the gate he roared out a volley of the most
fearful oaths: Who were they? What did they mean, _dash_ them? What
the _dash dash_ did they mean by making such a _dash dash_
noise?

"You'll get your ugly head broken, you scoundrel!" roared the footman,
who was beside himself with rage at this insult to his mistress, coming
as it did at the close of so long and irritating a delay. "Hold your
infernal tongue, and open the gate at once. Is this the way you dare to
talk before your mistress?"