Jean, our servant, took the four horses, and led them across to the stables, the poor beasts hanging their heads, and following meekly.

We stood a moment stamping our feet, and stretching our legs.

The place seemed in a bustle, the clatter of pans and dishes proceeding from the windows over the entrance, with a glow of light and the sound of feet hurrying in the passages.

There were men too, half-a-dozen or so standing at the doors of the stables, while others leaned from the windows.

One or two lanthorns just kindled glimmered here and there in the semi-darkness; and in a corner two smiths were shoeing a horse.
We were turning from all this to go in, when we heard Jean's voice raised in altercation, and thinking our rustic servant had fallen into trouble, we walked across to the stables near which he and the horses were still lingering.