“You now understand the place, don’t you?  Well, this year, at Epiphany, it had been snowing for a week.  One might have thought that the world was coming to an end.  When we went to the ramparts to look over the plain, this immense white, frozen country, which shone like varnish, would chill our very souls.  One might have thought that the Lord had packed the world in cotton to put it away in the storeroom for old worlds.  I can assure you that it was dreary looking.

“We were a very numerous family at that time my father, my mother, my uncle and aunt, my two brothers and four cousins; they were pretty little girls; I married the youngest.  Of all that crowd, there are only three of us left:  my wife, I, and my sister-in-law, who lives in Marseilles.  Zounds! how quickly a family like that dwindles away!  I tremble when I think of it!  I was fifteen years old then, since I am fifty-six now.

“We were going to celebrate the Epiphany, and we were all happy, very happy!  Everybody was in the parlor, awaiting dinner, and my oldest brother, Jacques, said:  ’There has been a dog howling out in the plain for about ten minutes; the poor beast must be lost.’

“He had hardly stopped talking when the garden bell began to ring.  It had the deep sound of a church bell, which made one think of death.  A shiver ran through everybody.  My father called the servant and told him to go outside and look.  We waited in complete silence; we were thinking of the snow which covered the ground.  When the man returned he declared that he had seen nothing.  The dog kept up its ceaseless howling, and always from the same spot.

“We sat down to dinner; but we were all uneasy, especially the young people.  Everything went well up to the roast, then the bell began to ring again, three times in succession, three heavy, long strokes which vibrated to the tips of our fingers and which stopped our conversation short.  We sat there looking at each other, fork in the air, still listening, and shaken by a kind of supernatural fear.

“At last my mother spoke:  ’It’s surprising that they should have waited so long to come back.  Do not go alone, Baptiste; one of these gentlemen will accompany you.’

“My Uncle Francois arose.  He was a kind of Hercules, very proud of his strength, and feared nothing in the world.  My father said to him:  ’Take a gun.  There is no telling what it might be.’

“But my uncle only took a cane and went out with the servant.

“We others remained there trembling with fear and apprehension, without eating or speaking.  My father tried to reassure us:  ‘Just wait and see,’ he said; ’it will be some beggar or some traveller lost in the snow.  After ringing once, seeing that the door was not immediately opened, he attempted again to find his way, and being unable to, he has returned to our door.’

“Our uncle seemed to stay away an hour.  At last he came back, furious, swearing:  ’Nothing at all; it’s some practical joker!  There is nothing but that damned dog howling away at about a hundred yards from the walls.  If I had taken a gun I would have killed him to make him keep quiet.’