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.

Rows of wolves' heads carved in stone flanked the windows, whence their bare fangs grinned day and night at the church porch opposite.
The noise drew our eyes in this direction; and there lolling in a window over the door, looking out on the street with a laughing eye, was Bezers himself.