"I don't know, Madame," said he, in a most natural tone. "It is true that the dogs didn't bark. That is curious, indeed!"
"Did you let them loose last night?"
"Certainly I let them loose, as I do every night. That is curious! Yes, indeed! that is curious! It must be that the robbers knew the house . . . and the dogs."
"Well, Joseph, how is it that you, so devoted and punctual as a rule, did not hear anything?"
"It is true that I heard nothing. That is another singular thing. For I do not sleep soundly. If a cat crosses the garden, I hear it. It is not natural, all the same. And those confounded dogs especially! Indeed, indeed!"
Madame interrupted Joseph:
"Stop! Leave me in peace. You are brutes, all of you! And Marianne. Where is Marianne? Why isn't she here? She is sleeping like a chump, undoubtedly."
And, going out of the servants' hall, she called up the stairs:
"Marianne! Marianne!"
I looked at Joseph, who looked at the boxes. Joseph's face wore a grave expression. There was a sort of mystery in his eyes.
I will not try to describe this day, with all its varied incidents and follies. The prosecuting
