He stopped to listen; yes, there could be no doubt about
it, and it was approaching. The baron gave a clear, melodious whistle--a
signal well known of old to Miraut-and in a few moments the faithful
dog, running as fast as his poor old legs could carry him, burst through
a break in the hedge--panting, barking, almost sobbing for joy. He
strove to jump up on the horse's neck to get at his beloved master; he
was beside himself with delight, and manifested it in the most frantic
manner, whilst de Sigognac bent down to pat his head and try to quiet
his wild transports. After bearing his master company a little way,
Miraut set off again at full speed, to announce the good news to
the others at the chateau--that is to say, to Pierre, Bayard, and
Beelzebub--and bounding into the kitchen where the old servant was
sitting, lost in sad thoughts, he barked in such a significant way that
Pierre knew at once that something unusual had happened.
"Can it be possible that the young master is coming? said he aloud,
rising, in compliance with Miraut's wishes, who was pulling at the
skirts of his coat, and imploring him with his eyes to bestir himself
and follow him. As it was quite dark by this time, Pierre lighted a pine
torch, which he carried with him, and as he turned into the road its
ruddy light suddenly flashed upon de Sigognac and his horse.
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