They crossed the bridge and rode up the gently rising, bare, and rugged ground towards Condillac.

The place wore an entirely peaceful air, strong and massive though it appeared.

It was encircled by a ditch, but the drawbridge was down, and the rust on its chains argued that long had it been so.
None coming to challenge them, the pair rode across the planks, and the dull thud of their hooves started into activity some one in the gatehouse.
A fellow rudely clad--a hybrid between man-at-arms and lackey--lounged on a musket to confront them in the gateway.

Monsieur de Garnache announced his name, adding that he came to crave an audience of Madame la Marquise, and the man stood aside to admit him.

Thus he and Rabecque rode forward into the roughly paved courtyard.
From several doorways other men emerged, some of martial bearing, showing that the place was garrisoned to some extent.