XVI
We set out from Brest without sending any letter to announce our coming.
When we arrived near Varenne we alighted from the post-chaise and, ordering the driver to proceed by the longest road to Sainte-Sévère, took a short cut through the woods. As soon as I saw the trees in the park raising their venerable heads above the copses like a solemn phalanx of druids in the middle of a prostrate multitude, my heart began to beat so violently that I was forced to stop.
"Well," said Marcasse, turning round with an almost stern expression, as if he would have reproached me for my weakness.
But a moment later I saw that his own face, too, was betraying unexpected emotion. A plaintive whining and a bushy tail brushing against his legs had made him start. He uttered a loud cry on seeing Blaireau. The poor animal had scented his master from afar, and had rushed forward with all the speed of his first youth to roll at his feet. For a moment we thought he was going to die there, for he remained motionless and convulsed, as it were, under Marcasse's caressing hand; then suddenly he sprang up, as if struck with an idea worthy of a man, and set off with the speed of lightning in the direction of Patience's hut.
"Yes, go and tell my friend, good dog!" exclaimed Marcasse; "a better friend than you would be more than man."
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