The driver, still grumbling, decided to take his advice. They unharnessed the horse; took one of the lanterns of the carriage as a beacon, and followed slowly the line of pasture-land, under the woodchopper’s guidance. At the end of about ten minutes, the forester pointed out a light, twinkling at the extremity of a rustic path, bordered with moss. “You have only to go straight ahead,” said he, “besides, the barking of the dogs will guide you. Ask for Mamselle Vincart. Good-night, gentlemen.” He turned on his heel, while Julien, bewildered, began to reproach himself for not having thanked him enough. The conductor went along with his lantern; young de Buxieres followed him with eyes downcast. Thus they continued silently until they reached the termination of the mossy path, where a furious barking saluted their ears. “Here we are,” growled the driver, “fortunately the dogs are not yet let loose, or we should pass a bad quarter of an hour!” They pushed open a side-wicket and, standing in the courtyard, could see the house. With the exception of the luminous spot that reddened one of the windows of the ground floor, the long, low facade was dark, and, as it were, asleep. On the right, standing alone, outlined against the sky, was the main building of the ancient forge, now used for granaries and stables; inside, the frantic barking of the watch-dogs mingled with the bleating of the frightened sheep, the neighing of horses, and the clanking of wooden shoes worn by the farm hands. At the same moment, the door of the house opened, and a servant, attracted by the uproar, appeared on the threshold, a lantern in her hand. “Hallo! you people,” she exclaimed sharply to the newcomers, who were advancing toward her, “what do you want?” The driver related, in a few words, the affair of the cabriolet, and asked whether they would house him at the farm until the next day--himself and the gentleman he was conducting to Vivey. The girl raised the lantern above her head in order to scrutinize the two strangers; doubtless their appearance and air of respectability reassured her, for she replied, in a milder voice: “Well, that does not depend on me--I am not the mistress here, but come in, all the same--Mamselle Reine can not be long now, and she will answer for herself.” As soon as the driver had fastened his horse to one of the outside posts of the wicket-gate, the servant brought them into a large, square hall, in which a lamp, covered with a shade, gave a moderate light. She placed two chairs before the fire, which she drew together with the poker. “Warm yourselves while you are waiting,” continued she, “it will not be long, and you must excuse me--I must go and milk the cows--that is work which will not wait.”