The house was small and modern. It stood by itself, with the woods for a background, on the slope of the hill, facing south-east. The ground before it fell rapidly away towards the valley, and was in field and pasture. A terrace had been formed in front of the house, with a pond in the midst, and a triton to spout water from a conch-shell. But as the château occupied high ground, and there was little water on a higher level, the triton maintained in wet weather an inconsiderable dribble, which not even the storm of that day could convert into a jet; but in hot weather it was dry. The château was flanked by two square blocks, the roofs of which were capped with tower-roofs and weathercocks. The body of the building had the high exaggerated roof of Louis XIV’s time, pierced with attic louvres. Every window was provided with emerald green shutters, and the walls being of a chalky whiteness, the house had a gay and smiling appearance. M. Berthier had a large house in Paris, in which he resided the major portion of the year, only visiting Malouve in the summer for a month or two. At the back of the château was a yard, one side occupied by stables, another by servants’ offices; access to this yard was obtained through an iron gate painted green and gold, set in a lofty iron railing, very gay with paint, very strong and insurmountable, the spikes at the summit being split and contorted so as to form a pretty, but, at the same time, an eminently practical chevaux-de-frise. As Thomas Lindet approached the gate, two hounds rushed out of their kennels before the coach-house door, and barked furiously. One was chained, but the other, by accident, had got loose, the staple which fastened the chain having given way; and the brute now flew to the gates, dragging the clanking links after him, and leaped against the iron bars. The shovel hat and black cassock were an unusual sight to the dog, and the costume of the priest excited it to a pitch of fury. First it set its head down, with the paws extended, rolled back its lips exposing the pink gums and white fangs, and growled; then it leaped up the iron rails, as though desirous of scrambling over them, started back, barked furiously; its chained brother assisting vociferously. The eyes of the hound became bloodshot. It flung itself again and again at the gate, it ran along the line of rails, leaping on the dwarf wall in which they were fixed, and slipping instantly off it, scrambling up again, and catching at the bars with its teeth, searching along the whole length for a gap, through which it could force its way; sometimes thrusting its head between the rods, and then, nipped by them, becoming more furious; racing back to the great gates, scraping at the earth under them with intent to burrow a way to get at the priest, but always unsuccessful. Lindet rang the great bell.