“Yes, yes, I hear you, my poor old Bayard,” cried de Sigognac, as he dismounted in the court, and threw the bridle to Pierre; “I am coming to say how d’you do,” and as he turned he stumbled over Beelzebub, who was trying to rub himself against his master’s legs, purring and mewing alternately to attract his attention.  The baron stooped down, took the old black cat up in his arms, and tenderly caressed him as he advanced towards the stables; then put him down gently as he reached Bayard’s stall, and another touching scene of affectionate greeting was enacted.  The poor old pony laid his head lovingly on his master’s shoulder, and actually tried to kick up his hind legs in a frisky way in honour of the great event; also, he received the horse that de Sigognac had ridden all the way from Paris, and which was put in the stall beside his own, very politely, and seemed pleased to have a companion in his solitary grandeur.

“And now that I have responded to the endearments of my dumb friends,” said the baron to Pierre, “we will go into the kitchen, and examine into the condition of your larder.  I had but a poor breakfast this morning, and no dinner at all, being anxious to push on and reach my journey’s end before nightfall.  I am as hungry as a bear, and will be glad of anything, no matter what.”

“I have not much to put before you, my lord, and I fear that you will find it but sorry fare after the delicacies you must have been accustomed to in Paris; but though it will not be tempting, nor over savoury, it will at least satisfy your hunger.”

“That is all that can be required of any food,” answered de Sigognac, “and I am not as ungrateful as you seem to think, my good Pierre, to the frugal fare of my youth, which has certainly made me healthy, vigorous, and strong.  Bring out what you have, and serve it as proudly as if it were of the choicest and daintiest; I will promise to do honour to it, for I am desperately hungry.”

The old servant bustled about joyously, and quickly had the table ready for his master; then stood behind his chair, while he ate and drank with a traveller’s appetite, as proudly erect as if he had been a grand major-domo waiting on a prince.  According to the old custom, Miraut and Beelzebub, stationed on the right and on the left, watched their master’s every motion, and received a share of everything that was on the table.  The great kitchen was lighted, not very brilliantly, by a torch, stuck in an iron bracket just inside the broad, open chimney, so that the smoke should escape through it and not fill the room, and the scene was so exactly a counterpart of the one described at the beginning of this narrative, that the baron, struck with the perfect resemblance, fancied that he must have been dreaming, and had never quitted his ancient chateau at all.  Everything was precisely as he had left it, excepting that the nettles and weeds had grown a little taller, and the cobweb draperies a little more voluminous; all else