She got up.

“I will,” she said, and wiping her eyes, she began to walk again with the jerky steps of an old woman.

Rather farther on, the road passed under a clump of trees, which hid a few houses, and they could distinguish the vibrating and regular blows of a blacksmith’s hammer on the anvil; and soon they saw a cart drawn upon the right in front of a low cottage, and two men shoeing a horse under a shed.

Monsieur d’Apreval went up to them.

“Where is Pierre Benedict’s farm?” he asked.

“Take the road on the left, close to the public house, and then go straight on; it is the third house past Poret’s.  There is a small spruce-fir close to the gate; you cannot make a mistake.”

They turned to the left; she was walking very slowly now; her legs threatened to give way, and her heart was beating so violently that she felt as if she should be suffocated, while at every step she murmured, as if in prayer: 

“Oh! good heavens! good heavens!”

Monsieur d’Apreval, who was also nervous and rather pale, said to her somewhat gruffly: 

“If you cannot manage to command your feelings better, you will betray yourself immediately.  Do try and restrain yourself.”

“How can I?” she replied.  “My child!  When I think that I am going to see my child!”

They were going along one of those narrow country lanes between farmyards, that are buried beneath a double row of beech trees, by the sides of the ditches, and suddenly they found themselves in front of a gate, over which there hung a young spruce-fir.

“This is it,” he said.

She stopped suddenly and looked about her.  The courtyard, which was planted with apple-trees, was large and extended as far as the small, thatched dwelling-house.  Opposite to it, were the stable, the barn, the cow-house and the poultry-house, while the gig, wagon and the manure cart were under a slated outhouse.  Four calves were grazing under the shade of the trees, and black hens were wandering all about the enclosure.

All was perfectly still; the house door was open, but nobody was to be seen, and so they went in, when immediately a large, black dog came out of a barrel that was standing under a pear tree, and began to bark furiously.

There were four bee-hives on boards against the wall of the house.

Monsieur d’Apreval stood outside and called out: 

“Is anybody at home?”

Then a girl appeared, a little girl of about ten, dressed in a chemise and a linen petticoat, with dirty, bare legs, and a timid and cunning look.  She remained standing in the doorway, as if to prevent any one going in.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Is your father in?”

“No.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“And your mother?”

“Gone after the cows.”

“Will she be back soon?”