When we know that an estate belongs to us, we are likely to scrutinize every part of it closely. Edouard noticed that Monsieur Renâré had planted cabbages and lettuces in all the beds intended for flowers; he had cut down the beautiful acacias, which, to be sure, produced nothing but shade, and had replaced them by fruit trees. Instead of box as a border for the paths, he had planted parsley and nasturtiums; and as he entered a clump of shrubbery, which formerly was bright with lilacs and roses, Edouard smelled nothing but the odor of chevril and onion. “We shall have to make many changes,” said Edouard to himself, laughing at the former owner’s parsimony; “but in a week everything will be as it was, with the exception of the acacias, on which I used to have a swing; but I have passed the age when I could enjoy it so much.” He was then at the end of the garden; he approached the gate, saying to himself: “It seems that that appalling face which frightened the ladies so does not show itself every day;” and he was on the point of putting the key into the lock, when the face with moustaches appeared above the broken plank, exactly on a level with the eyes. Edouard stopped; he felt that his heart was beating violently; but he soon recovered himself. “What do you want?” he asked the stranger; “and why are you continually behind this gate, with your eyes fixed upon the garden?” “I want nothing,” the stranger replied, in a loud voice and with an abrupt manner. “I am looking at this garden because I choose to, and I look at it through this gate, because they would not permit me to walk about inside.” “If that is what you wish, you may gratify yourself now. Come in, monsieur; there is nothing now to prevent you.” As he spoke, Edouard, who was curious to see the whole of the stranger’s face, opened the gate leading into the fields. The stranger seemed surprised at Edouard’s invitation; however, as soon as the gate was opened, he did not wait to be asked a second time, but entered the garden. Murville was then able to contemplate him at his ease. He saw a man of tall stature, dressed in an old blue frock-coat, buttoned to the chin, who wore black gaiters and a dilapidated three-cornered hat, which he carried in his hand. As he examined this singular individual, whose pale face, long beard and neglected dress seemed to indicate misfortune and want, Edouard remembered his mother-in-law’s suspicions, and a feeling of distrust entered his mind. The stranger walked about the garden, pausing from time to time in front of a clump of shrubs or an old tree, and apparently forgetting that there was some one with him. “Parbleu!” said Edouard to himself, “I propose to have something to show for my good-nature; I must find out who this man is, and why he planted himself behind the little gate. I must take the first step, and as he says nothing, I must begin the conversation; he will have to answer me.”