All the sounds of town life
came up to us on the terrace. Lounging there we could hear the
chaffering over the wheat measures in the cloisters of the
market-square, the yell of a dog, the voice of a scold, the
church bell, the watchman's cry. I had only to step to the wall
to overlook it all. On this summer afternoon the town had been
for the most part very quiet. If we had not been engaged in our
own affairs we should have taken the alarm before, remarking in
the silence the first beginnings of what was now a very
respectable tumult. It swelled louder even as we stepped to the
wall.
We could see--a bend in the street laying it open--part of the
Vidame's house; the gloomy square hold which had come to him from
his mother. His own chateau of Bezers lay far away in Franche
Comte, but of late he had shown a preference--Catherine could
best account for it, perhaps--for this mean house in Caylus. It
was the only house in the town which did not belong to us. It
was known as the House of the Wolf, and was a grim stone building
surrounding a courtyard.
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