These words of Marguerite, "Monsieur has come!" announcing the arrival of Jacques Bastien at the very moment in which Marie realised that she owed to David not only the moral restoration but the life of her son, so appalled the young woman that she sat mute and motionless, as if struck by an unexpected blow; for the incidents of the morning had banished from her mind every thought of her husband's letter. Frederick, on his part, felt a sad surprise. Thanks to his mother's reticence he was ignorant of much of his father's unkindness and injustice, but certain domestic scenes in which the natural brutality of Jacques Bastien's character had been manifested, and the unwise severity with which he exercised his paternal authority in his rare visits to the farm, united in rendering the relations of father and son very strained. David also saw the arrival of M. Bastien with profound apprehension; although prepared to make all possible concessions to this man, even to the point of utter self-effacement, it pained him to think that the continuity of his relations with Frederick and his mother depended absolutely on the caprice of Jacques Bastien. Marguerite was so little in advance of her master that David, Marie, and her son were still under the effects of their astonishment and painful reflections, when Jacques Bastien entered the library, accompanied by his companion, Bridou, the bailiff of Pont Brillant. Jacques Bastien, as we have said, was an obese Hercules; his large head, covered with a forest of reddish blond curls, was joined close to his broad shoulders by the neck of a bull; his face was large, florid, and almost beardless, as is frequently the case in athletic physiques; his nose big, his lips of the kind called blubber, and his eye at the same time shrewd, wicked, and deceitful. The blue blouse, which, according to his custom, he wore over his riding-coat, distinctly delineated the prominence of his Falstaff-like stomach; he wore a little cap of fox hair, with ear-protectors, trousers of cheap velvet, and iron-tipped boots that had not been cleaned for several days; in one of his short, yet enormous hands, broader than they were long, he carried a stick of holly-wood, fastened to his wrist by a greasy leather string; and if the truth must be told, this man, a sort of mastodon, at ten paces distant, smelled like a goat. His boon companion, Bridou, also clad in a blouse over his old black coat, and wearing a round hat, was a small man, with spectacles, lank, covered with freckles, with a cunning, sly expression, pinched mouth, and high cheek-bones: one might have taken him for a ferret wearing eyeglasses. At the sight of Jacques Bastien, David shuddered with pain and apprehension, as he thought that Marie's life was for ever linked to the life of this man, who even lacked the generosity of remaining absent from the unhappy woman.