When he gratified his own tastes by razing the donjon of his fathers and replacing it by the pavilion called the _grand'maison_, the marquis had said to himself, and justly, that, whether in the shape of a castle or a villa, his country house would not hold out an hour against an attack with cannon. But, against the paltry means of attack which bandits or hostile neighbors could command, the broad, deep moat filled with a swiftly-running stream, the little falconets placed on each side of the _huisset_, and the loopholes cut diagonally in the wall on the _basse-cour_ or farmyard side, were capable of holding out a considerable time. As a matter of comfort and convenience rather than of prudence, the manor was always well supplied with provisions and forage. Let us add that walls and moats, always kept in perfect repair, enclosed the whole domain--even the garden--and that, if Aristandre had taken time for reflection, he would have carried Mario out of the farmyard, into the village, and not into the garden, which was as likely to become a prison for him as a place of safety. But one never thinks of everything, and Aristandre never dreamed that the enemy could not be repelled with a turn of the hand. The honest fellow was not noted for vividness of imagination; it was fortunate for him that he did not allow himself to be excited by the fantastic and truly frightful figures which were presented to his astonished eyes. Being as credulous as other men, he took counsel with himself as he ran, but without slackening his headlong pace; and, when he had struck down one or two of them, he made the philosophical reflection that they were _canaille_, nothing more. Mario, with his face pressed against the garden gate, throbbing with ardor and excitement soon lost sight of him. The burning mill had fallen in; the fighting continued during the darkness; the child could follow only with his ears the confused sounds of the changing scenes of the action. He judged that the arrival of the sturdy and intrepid Aristandre revived the courage of the defenders, but after a few moments of uncertainty, which seemed to him like centuries, he thought that the assailants must be gaining ground, for the shouts and scuffling receded to the second bridge, and, after a moment of ghastly silence, he heard a pistol shot and the splash of a body falling into the stream. A few seconds later the portcullis of the _huisset_ fell with a great crash, and a volley from the falconets forced the party that had rushed upon the bridge to fall back with horrible imprecations. One act of this incomprehensible drama was finished; the besieged had been driven back and confined in the courtyard; the invaders were masters of the _basse-cour_. Mario was alone; Aristandre was probably dead, since he abandoned him in the midst or at least within reach of enemies who might burst into the garden at any moment by breaking down the gate, and take him prisoner.