At that moment three loud knocks upon the great outer door resounded
through the house. Who could possibly have strayed here at this hour, so
far from the travelled roads, and in this tempest that was making
night horrible without? No such thing had occurred within the baron's
recollection. What could it portend?



CHAPTER II. THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS

The Baron de Sigognac went down the broad staircase without a moment's
delay to answer this mysterious summons, protecting with his hand the
feeble flame of the small lamp he carried from the many draughts that
threatened to blow it out. The light, shining through his slender
fingers, gave them a rosy tinge, so that he merited the epithet applied
by Homer, the immortal bard, to the laughing, beautiful Aurora, even
though he advanced through the thick darkness with his usual melancholy
mien, and followed by a black cat, instead of preceding the glorious god
of day.

Setting down his lamp in a sheltered corner, he proceeded to take down
the massive bar that secured the door, cautiously opened the practicable
leaf, and found himself face to face with a man, upon whom the light of
the lamp shone sufficiently to show rather a grotesque figure, standing
uncovered in the pelting rain. His head was bald and shining, with a
few locks of gray hair clustering about the temples. A jolly red nose,
bulbous in form, a small pair of twinkling, roguish eyes, looking out
from under bushy, jet-black eyebrows, flabby cheeks, over which was
spread a network of purplish fibres, full, sensual lips, and a scanty,