ing
nap. At last all were ready; the driver gave the word of command, and
the oxen stepped slowly forward, setting in motion the great unwieldy,
lumbering vehicle, which creaked and groaned in lamentable fashion,
making the vaulted portico ring again as it passed through it and out of
the chateau.

In the midst of all this unwonted commotion, Beelzebub and Miraut moved
restlessly about the court, evidently very much perplexed as to what
could be the meaning of it. The old dog ran back and forth from his
master, who always had a caress for him, to Pierre, looking up into
their faces with questioning, anxious eyes, and Beelzebub finally went
and held a consultation with his good friend, the old white pony,
now standing with saddle and bridle on, quietly awaiting his master's
pleasure. He bent down his head so that his lips almost touched
Beelzebub, and really appeared to be whispering something to him; which
the cat in his turn imparted to Miraut, in that mysterious language of
animals which Democritus, claimed that he understood, but which we are
not able to translate. Whatever it might have been that Bayard, the old
pony, communicated to Beelzebub, one thing is certain, that when at last
the baron vaulted into his saddle and sallied forth from his ancient
castle, he was accompanied by both cat and dog. Now, though it was no
uncommon thing for Miraut to follow him abroad, Beelzebub had never been
known to attempt such a feat before.

As he rode slowly out through the grand old portico de Sigognac felt
his heart heavy within him, and when, after going a few paces from the
chateau, he turned round for one last look at its crumbling walls, he
felt an acute grief at bidding them farewell which was an astonishment
to himself. As his eyes sought and dwelt upon the roof of the little
chapel where his father and mother lay sleeping side by side, he almost
reproached himself for wishing to go and leave them, and it required a
mighty effort to turn away and ride after the chariot, which was some
distance in advance of him. He had soon overtaken and passed it, when
a gentle gust of wind brought to him the penetrating, faintly aromatic
scent of his native heather, still wet from last night's rain, and also
the silvery sound of a distant convent bell that was associated with his
earliest recollections. They both seemed to be reproaching him for his
desertion of his home, and he involuntarily checked the old pony,
and made as if he