Soon he had reached his chamber, as Marie discovered by the light which shone through the window-blinds. Frozen by the sharp, penetrating north wind, Marie's teeth began to chatter convulsively. She tried to reach the stables situated in a neighbouring building. Unfortunately she found the garden gate fastened, and then she remembered that this garden, surrounded by buildings on all sides, was enclosed by a fence, in the middle of which was a door which she could not succeed in opening. Three windows overlooked this garden, two belonging to the apartment of Jacques Bastien, and the other to the dining-room, where nobody slept. Marie had no other help to expect. She resigned herself to her fate. The poor creature came back to the porch, swept off the snow which covered the threshold with her hands, and already chilled, stiffened by the cold, seated herself on the stone step, barely sheltered by the roof of the porch. CHAPTER XXXVIII. Jacques Bastien, after having brutally put his wife out of the house, returned to his chamber with a tottering step, threw himself on the bed in his clothes, and fell into a profound sleep. At three o'clock, according to the order he had given in the evening, Marguerite carried a light to her master and found him asleep; she had much difficulty in awakening him, and announced to him that old André had hitched the horse to the little carriage. Jacques, still heavy with sleep and the consequences of his intoxication, which obscured his ideas, shook himself in his garments, like a tawny beast in his fur, passed his hand through his tangled hair, put on his back over his clothes an overcoat of goatskin with long hairs, rinsed his mouth with a full glass of brandy, and sent Marguerite to inform Bridou that all was ready for their departure. Bastien's head was aching, his ideas confused, and he scarcely had a vague remembrance of his atrocious brutality toward his wife; he struggled painfully against a violent desire to sleep, and while waiting for his companion, he seated himself on the edge of the bed, where he was beginning to sleep again, when Bridou entered. "Come, Jacques, come along," said the bailiff; "you look stupid all over, old fellow, shake yourself up." "There! there!" replied M. Bastien, standing upon his legs and rubbing his eyes. "My head is heavy and my eyes full of sand,--perhaps the fresh air will revive me. Wait, Bridou, drink a drop, and then we will set off on our journey. It is twelve miles from here to Blémur." "To your health, then, old fellow!" said the bailiff, pouring out a glass of brandy. "Ah, so, you will not drink?" "Yes, indeed, it will wake me up, for my brain is devilishly confused." And, after having swallowed a new bumper of brandy, which, far from clearing his ideas, rendered them all the more confused, Bastien, preceding Bridou, went out of his chamber, followed the corridor and opened the door, through which he had driven his wife two hours before.