At length, lying in a hollow of the woodland, the moonlight showed him a group of dark cottages; but no friendly light appeared in the windows; and as he rode on amongst the houses, there was a sort of awful stillness about the place, which seemed to indicate that it was not slumber that kept the tongues of the peasantry silent. There were no dogs in the streets; there was no smoke curling up from any of the chimneys; all was still, and many of the doors stood wide open in the night air, exhibiting nothing but solitude within. "There must be somebody in the place," cried Gondrin, springing from his horse and approaching one of the cottages, the door of which was shut. Without knocking, the man threw open the door at once, and went in as far as the bridle of his horse would let him; but he came out again immediately, and his master could see that his face was pale and its expression horrified. "A man and a woman," he said in a low voice, "both dead! the one in the bed and the other on the floor, and both of them looking as blue as a cloud." The boy Ignati pressed up his horse to hear; and the Count said, "In all probability there may be things still more horrible before us. I shall go on, Gondrin; I must go on: but there is no need for either yourself or the page to do so. You had better both go back. Make the best of your way to Soissons, there tell the Duke what you have seen, and assure him that I will do my best to fulfil his wishes if I live." "My Lord," said the boy, "I might quit you for a kind and noble master when danger was not about you, but I will only quit you now with life." "And so say I," replied Gondrin in a somewhat reassured but still anxious tone. "But let us ride on, my Lord, and get out of this horrible place. We shall find no one here to show us the way." "I believe I can find it myself," replied the Count. "We turn to the left as soon as we have passed the village. Come on!" Thus saying, he somewhat quickened his pace and rode away, the moon now declining towards her setting, throwing longer shadows, and giving more uncertain light. Anxiously did the young Count gaze from the brow of every rise, hoping to see the form of the château rising upon the eminence before him. Several times he disappointed himself by fancying that he saw it when it was not there, so that, when at length he beheld a single faint point of light, like the spark of a firefly amongst the distant branches, he could scarcely believe that it afforded any true indication of that which he sought. Riding on, however, he again and again caught sight of it, till at length the forms of the building grew more clear and defined, and after about half a mile more he rode up the gentle slope that conducted towards the château.