Julien started, and, notwithstanding his alienation from worldly things, he could not repress a feeling of satisfaction when he reflected that, by legal right, he was about to become master of the woods, the fields, and the old homestead of which the many-pointed slate roofs gleamed in the distance.  This satisfaction was mingled with intense curiosity, but it was also somewhat shadowed by a dim perspective of the technical details incumbent on his taking possession.  No doubt he should be obliged, in 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?”

The sight of this tall, burly woman, whose glance betokened both audacity and cunning, increased still more Julien’s embarrassment.  He advanced awkwardly, raised his hat and replied, almost as if to excuse himself: 

“I beg pardon, Madame—­I am the cousin and heir of the late Claude de Buxieres.  I have come to install myself in the chateau, and I had sent word of my intention to Monsieur Arbillot, the notary—­I am surprised he did not notify you.”

“Ah! it is you, Monsieur Julien de Buxieres!” exclaimed Madame Sejournant, scrutinizing the newcomer with a mingling of curiosity and scornful surprise which completed the young man’s discomfiture.  “Monsieur Arbillot was here yesterday—­he waited for you all day, and as you did not come, he went away at nightfall.”

“I presume you were in my cousin’s service?” said Julien, amiably, being desirous from the beginning to evince charitable consideration with regard to his relative’s domestic affairs.