It is needless to describe in detail a journey that lasted twenty days,
and was not marked by any remarkable incidents or adventures. It is
enough to say that one fine evening de Sigognac saw from afar the lofty
towers of his ancient chateau, illuminated by the setting sun, and
shining out in bold relief against the soft purple of the evening sky;
whilst one of the few remaining casements had caught the fiery sunset
glow, and looked like a great carbuncle set in the fine facade of
the stately old castle. This sight aroused a strange tenderness and
agitation in the young baron's breast. It was true that he had suffered
long and acutely in that dreary mansion, yet after all it was very
dear to him--far more than he knew before he had quitted it--and he was
deeply moved at seeing it again. In a few moments more the glorious god
of day had sunk behind the western horizon, and the chateau seemed
to retreat, until it became scarcely perceptible as the light faded,
forming only a vague, gray blot in the distance as the gloaming
succeeded to the glow. But de Sigognac knew every step of the way
perfectly, and soon turned from the highway into the neglected,
grass-grown road that led to the chateau. In the profound stillness,
which seemed wonderfully peaceful and pleasant to him, he fancied that
he could distinguish the distant barking of a dog, and that it sounded
like Miraut.
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