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Up the broad flight of shallow steps, Monsieur the Marquis,

flambeau preceded, went from his carriage, sufficiently

disturbing the darkness to elicit loud remonstrance from an owl

in the roof of the great pile of stable building away among the

trees. All else was so quiet, that the flambeau carried up the

steps, and the other flambeau held at the great door, burnt as if

they were in a close room of state, instead of being in the open

night-air. Other sound than the owl's voice there was none, save

the falling of a fountain into its stone basin; for, it was one

of those dark nights that hold their breath by the hour together,

and then heave a long low sigh, and hold their breath again.

The great door clanged behind him, and Monsieur the Marquis

crossed a hall grim with certain old boar-spears, swords, and

knives of the chase; grimmer with certain heavy riding-rods and

riding-whips, of which many a peasant, gone to his benefactor

Death, had felt the weight when his lord was angry.