As he clung with his hands to the wet railing, he could hear one of the animals rustling in the straw in the interior shed. Was it ill? Was it moving in its sleep? Or was it simply guzzling in there⁠ ⁠… in warm, dry darkness?

He pushed the outer gate open, hardly knowing what he did. So here he was, standing shivering inside that so-often-observed enclosure, from which the familiar stench emerged that had been the accompaniment of all these eventful months!

“Weevil’s with her,” he thought. “I know it as well as if I’d seen his Panurge nose! He’s with her. She’s going to give him supper⁠ ⁠… or perhaps they’re roasting chestnuts! She said once they used to roast chestnuts together.”