He asked who Shangois was, and Nicolas told him.
"A notary, eh ?" he remarked gaily.

"Well, why does he disguise himself?
He looks like a ragpicker, and has the eye of Solomon and the devil in one.

He ought to be in some Star Chamber--Palmerston could make use of him." "Oh, he's kept busy enough with secrets here!" was Nicolas's laughing reply.
"It's only a difference of size in the secrets anyhow," was Ferrol's response in the same vein; and in a few moments they had passed the Seigneury, and were drawn up before the great farmhouse.
Its appearance was rather comfortable and commodious than impressive, but it had the air of home and undepreciating use.

There was one beautiful clump of hollyhocks and sunflowers in the front garden; a corner of the main building was covered with morning-glories; a fence to the left was overgrown with grape-vines, making it look like a hedge; a huge pear tree occupied a spot opposite to the pretty copse of sunflowers and hollyhocks; and the rest of the garden was green, save just round a little "summer-house," in the corner, with its back to the road, near which Sophie had set a palisade of the golden-rod flower.
Just beside the front door was a bush of purple lilac; and over the door, in copper, was the coat-of-arms of the Lavilettes, placed there, at Madame's insistence, in spite of the dying wish of Lavilette's father, a feeble, babbling old gentleman in knee-breeches, stock, and swallow-tailed coat, who, broken down by misfortune, age and loneliness, had gathered himself together for one last effort for becomingness against his daughter-in-law's false tastes--and had died the day after.
He was spared the indignity of the coat-of-arms on the tombstone only by the fierce opposition of Louis Lavilette, who upon this point had his first quarrel with his wife.
Ferrol saw no particular details in his first view of the house.

The picture was satisfying to a tired man--comfort, quiet, the bread of idleness to eat, and welcome, admiring faces round him.