Chapter V: A Village Inn, and What Befell Our Travellers There

At nightfall, our travellers arrived at a village of wretched aspect. Dubourg ordered his postilion to set them down at the best inn; but as there was only one in the place, they must needs content themselves with that.

The inn in question was rarely patronized by travellers in carriages; pedestrians were its usual guests.

Frédéric was disinclined to stop in that wretched hamlet, but Dubourg insisted upon passing the night there. He had reasons of his own for not wishing to go farther with his berlin; and as Monsieur Ménard was hungry, and the remains of his pâté had been left in the post chaise, he endorsed Dubourg's suggestion.

The carriage drove into a great yard filled with mud and dungheaps. Half a score of ducks were splashing in a pool, apparently disputing possession of it with some geese which waddled majestically around the banks. Three pigs went grunting into every corner of the enclosure, an old lame horse was quenching his thirst at a trough, on the edge of which perched several hens, which laid their eggs in the house, in the street, or in the yard, as it happened, considering probably that there was little to choose between those places. Lastly, to complete the picture, a number of rabbits showed their heads from time to time under the hedge of a garden which had been turned into a warren; then fled in alarm at the barking of a huge dog, whose duty it seemed to be to watch the other beasts.

There was hardly room for the berlin to pass through a gateway, whose dilapidated gate had not been closed for a long while. On one side the wheels sank into a deep rut, on the other they had to pass over a dungheap; so that, for a moment, Monsieur Ménard feared that the Palatine of Rava's venerable berlin would be overturned, and himself with it. But he got off with nothing worse than a fright. On the arrival of the carriage, the rabbits and pigs fled, the ducks quacked, the geese and hens flew away, and the dog barked under the travellers' noses; while a dozen or more of idlers, and as many peasant women, who formed substantially the whole population of the village, stood about the gateway to see the occupants of the carriage alight.

"Where in the devil is he taking us?" said Frédéric, putting his head out of the window, and instantly drawing it in again; for the wheels had stirred up the filth which covered the ground and thereby caused it to emit an odor ill adapted to attract the travellers.

"Let us hope that we are not in front of the kitchen," said Monsieur Ménard, holding his nose.

"Don't be alarmed, messieurs," said Dubourg; "we shall be very comfortable here; we must not judge by appearances, you know. I have stopped at this inn, and I remember that they give you excellent rabbit stews and omelets."

Although it might seem surprising that a palatine should be fond of such commonplace dishes, Monsieur Ménard at once considered the yard less offensive; and, alighting on the heels of Dubourg, who had stepped out on the dungheap, he looked about on all sides, trying to discover the kitchen.

The innkeeper appeared, with his cap over his left ear; he did not salute the new arrivals, for, being accustomed to entertain only carters or peasants, who care little for polite manners, he had contracted a habit of treating all strangers with a certain familiarity; and the sight of a carriage made little impression on him, because it was not to such guests that he looked for the support of his establishment.

He was a little man of fifty years or thereabout, with a slight limp, and a bloated nose which seemed to denote intemperate habits.

"Are you going to drink a glass of wine, messieurs?" he said, addressing Ménard, who still had his nose in the air, trying to catch the scent of a rabbit stew, and to whom the innkeeper's manner seemed lacking in respect.

"Take us to your best room, my good man," said Dubourg; "we are going to sup and sleep here. Set everyone at work; let the fire blaze and the spits turn, and serve our supper as soon as may be."

"Yes," interposed Ménard, tapping the host's shoulder patronizingly; "and understand, my friend, that you have the honor of entertaining Monsieur le Comte Frédéric de Montreville, Monsieur le Baron Ladislas Potoski, Palatine of Rava and Sandomir, and Monsieur Benoît Ménard, master of arts and eminent professor."

"I shall never have room enough to put up so many people," said the innkeeper, while Dubourg reproved Ménard for betraying his incognito and begged him to be more discreet in future.

"Holà! Goton! Goton!" cried mine host, walking toward the garden; "come and show these gentlemen into the house, while I look after the horses; and tell my wife to see about getting supper."

Mademoiselle Goton appeared; she was a tall, stoutly-built damsel of twenty, dark, with black eyes, and a sunburned complexion; her features were irregular, but her retroussé nose and her fine teeth, which she showed constantly, her mouth being rather large, made her face decidedly attractive. If, instead of a short stuff skirt, a waist of coarse blue woollen cloth, and a cotton cap, Goton had worn a dress which set off her figure; if her skin had been treated with almond paste, and her hair by a hair-dresser, she would undoubtedly have made many conquests in Paris.

"Will you follow me, messieurs?" she said, smiling at the travellers; for Mademoiselle Goton smiled very often, because it added to her beauty; and in the smallest village, no less than in the largest city, a woman always knows how to make the most of her advantages. Lacking a mirror, a fountain is sufficient to train the simplest-minded.

Dubourg estimated the servant's qualities at a glance, and, as they followed her, he said to himself:

"I will amuse Ménard with the supper, which shall be a good one, if I can manage it. I can pass the time pleasantly with Mademoiselle Goton. Ah! if I only could find some sentimental beauty to engage Frédéric's attention! Failing a new passion, I will talk to him of Madame Dernange and all his faithless charmers in Paris; that will serve to make his evening pass quickly."

The best room in the inn was the one usually occupied by the carters and peasants. Four itinerant merchants, who had arrived an hour before our illustrious travellers, were seated at a table, drinking, and discussing their business affairs.

The arrival of three new guests in no wise disturbed the four men. They glanced at them, and continued their conversation.

"I'll set plates for you here," said Goton, pointing to a table covered with a glazed cloth.

"No, no," said Dubourg; "we can't eat our supper here; you may serve us in one of the rooms where we are to sleep."

"But this is the eating-room."

"That may be," said Ménard; "but monsieur le comte and monsieur le bar--at all events, we don't choose to eat here."

These words caused the peddlers to raise their heads, and they scrutinized the travellers, laughing contemptuously among themselves. Ménard, fearing that he had offended them, and dreading a scene, was already in the passage, where he waited for the servant to come; while Dubourg, who was not long-suffering, eyed the four drinkers in his turn. Frédéric, his mind still engrossed by his memories, paid little heed to what was taking place.

"You see, Goton," said one of the four, with a sneering smile, "these gents are too swell to eat in the same room with us. _Jarni_! we must take care and not look at 'em too close; it might offend 'em."

"Nobody spoke to you," said Dubourg; "try not to be too insolent, or you may be sorry for it."

"Oho! there's one of 'em who means to show his teeth!"

"For heaven's sake, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, putting his nose in at the door, "don't let this go any further! These gentlemen certainly have no intention of----"

"Hallo! he's a baron!" exclaimed another of the peddlers; "I took him for a Swiss liniment-maker, with his silk handkerchief across his breast."

"Did you see their carriage?" said a third; "it's an old shack I wouldn't put my donkey in!"

"The wretches! to talk so about King Stanislas's berlin!" said Ménard; but he made the remark in such a low tone that no one suspected that he had spoken.

"Once more, hold your peace!" said Dubourg, "or we'll teach you whom you have to deal with."

"Indeed!" said the peddlers, brandishing their cudgels; "perhaps we might teach you something more."

Frédéric, who had been silent thus far, took a pair of pistols from his pocket, and, walking toward the table at which the four men were seated, he said calmly:

"Messieurs, whatever may be the titles we bear, we are men, and we are quite able to prove it; we are not accustomed to using clubs, but here is something that will make matters even between us. Everyone knows how to fire a pistol. Which of you would like to begin with me?"

"Yes," said Dubourg, producing in his turn a pair of pistols of heavier calibre; "and this is for the man who comes forward next."

At sight of the pistols, the peddlers changed color and dropped their cudgels; those who presume too far upon their strength to insult those whom they deem weaker than themselves, generally appear very cowardly and foolish when confronted by such arguments.

Goton shrieked when she saw the fire-arms; the innkeeper came limping into the room, and Monsieur Ménard, proposing to retreat to the end of the passage, where it was quite dark, collided with the hostess, who was coming to find out what was happening in the living-room.

The hostess, whose acquaintance we have not made as yet, was a woman of fifty, short of stature, and almost as broad as she was tall. Her corpulence had within a short time increased to such a degree that she could hardly walk from her desk to the kitchen; even so, she had to make a judicious and abundant use of flour to keep herself from chafing when she walked. This difficulty in moving made her very sedentary; she passed almost all her time in an armchair which the village carpenter had made for her, of sufficient breadth to admit her enormous bulk. This mode of life naturally caused her embonpoint to make rapid progress from day to day. It was beginning to become disquieting, and the innkeeper, limping as he did, took a long time to walk around his spouse.

She had heard Goton's outcry and her husband's exclamations, and, suspecting that something extraordinary was taking place, she had left her broad armchair and waddled along the corridor leading to the living-room. As this corridor was narrow, her body closed it hermetically and rubbed against the partitions on each side; so that it was impossible for anyone to pass through in the opposite direction, unless by jumping over her head or crawling between her legs.

It was this enormous mass with which Monsieur Ménard collided when he attempted to leave the field of battle, all his youthful vigor being restored by the sight of the pistols. Despite the violence with which the tutor hurled himself against her, the hostess did not waver; solid as a rock, and upheld, too, by the walls of the corridor, the bulky dame contented herself with crying in a shrill falsetto:

"What's all this? who is it?"

Ménard, still dazed by the shock, was determined none the less to force a passage, and he returned toward the person he had struck, hoping that she had moved to one side or the other; he turned to the right and ran his nose against a breast which rivalled that of the Hottentot Venus; he stepped back and turned to the left, and collided with an arm that would have darkened a window.

"Mon Dieu! where am I?" exclaimed poor Ménard, who had no idea of what he had come in contact with, and, still trying to go forward, lowered his head like a ram; while the hostess cried, louder than ever:

"Who is it? what's he trying to do? where does he want to go?"

Her shrieks attracted the attention of the travellers, peace having been restored in the living-room, since Frédéric and Dubourg had exhibited their pistols; the four peddlers had become more amiable and had mumbled some apologies, with which the young men were content, having no desire for a quarrel with such adversaries. So general attention was now directed to the corridor.

"It's my wife's voice," said the innkeeper; "something very funny must have happened to make her leave her chair!"

He hurried out into the passage with Goton, who carried a light; Dubourg and Frédéric followed them, and they discovered the hostess, who was shrieking louder than ever, because the sound of approaching footsteps had increased Ménard's terror; he had resolved to pass at any cost, and, being unable to force a passage on either side, had dropped on his hands and knees and tried to crawl between the corpulent dame's legs. But she, determined that the unknown, whom she believed to be a thief, should not escape, could devise no better way of detaining him than to sit upon him; so that she was fairly astride Ménard, when light was thrown on the scene.

Goton laughed uproariously, and the innkeeper was petrified with amazement. Frédéric and Dubourg tried to discover the meaning of that amusing tableau.

"I can't stand it any longer," gasped Ménard, in a dying voice.

"I've got him! he's caught!" exclaimed the hostess triumphantly.

The poor fellow was so effectively caught, that he would have been stifled if not rescued. But the innkeeper, jealous of his chaste better half, whom he regarded as the most beautiful creature to be found within a hundred leagues, instantly stooped and pulled Ménard from under his wife's skirts, swearing roundly.

"You villain! sacrebleu! what was you doing under there? ten thousand eyes!"

"Oh! he didn't do any harm, I promise you, ducky!" said the hostess sweetly, to allay her husband's suspicions; while Ménard, restored at last to the light of day, struggled to his feet, with wig awry and distorted features.

"Look ye, my friend," continued the innkeeper, "you didn't go in there, sacrebleu! to look for violets, did you?"

Ménard looked from one to another, with a dazed expression; he had not fully recovered himself. Dubourg succeeded in adjusting matters to everybody's satisfaction; he divined why Ménard was trying to get away, so he dispelled the host's suspicions, and reassured his wife concerning the quarrel in the living-room. Then he ordered Goton to show them to their bedrooms; which she did after the landlady had concluded to return to her armchair and thus uncork the passage.

The best quarters that they could give our three friends consisted of two very dirty rooms, with the ceiling rafters exposed, which cats and spiders seemed in the habit of occupying in company with the guests of the house. In each room there was a wretched bed, partly surrounded by blue and white curtains resembling in design the common salad-bowl we see in the country. Both beds were more than five feet high.

"These are modest quarters," said Frédéric, with a smile; "but in war time we must take what comes, and it's the same when we travel, eh, my dear Ménard?"

"To be sure; a night is soon passed, and these beds look comfortable."

"We shall need a ladder to climb into them."

"I see only two beds, monsieur le comte."

"Oh! don't worry about me," said Dubourg; "I shall not go to bed; I have letters to write and despatches to send; and I will finish the night in a chair."

"But I don't see any chairs, monsieur le baron."

"Never mind--a chair or a bench. When a man has slept in camp, he's not hard to please. But the supper is a long while coming; I'll take a look at the kitchen."

Dubourg went downstairs, and Frédéric walked to a window which looked on the fields. The moon was shining on the village, where the most perfect quiet reigned. The young man mused upon the contrast between life in Paris and in that hamlet; he reflected that, at that moment, when the villagers had all retired, the fashionable inhabitants of the city were at the play or at social festivities, exhibiting their fine clothes and jewels, and seeking pleasure. But need one leave the city to find striking contrasts? In the house where people are dancing on the first floor, on the second there is mourning for the death of a husband or father; on the third, a young man is making a passionate declaration of love to his sweetheart; on the fourth, a drunkard is beating his wife; on the fifth, a gambler is filling his pockets with gold preparatory to going out; and under the eaves, a poor girl passes the night in toil to earn bread for her mother.

While Frédéric abandoned himself to such reflections, Monsieur Ménard inspected the beds, and was pained to find that what he had deemed at first sight so soft and comfortable was but a wretched mattress, and a straw bed itself nearly four feet thick.

"What an insane idea it is of these villagers to have such enormous straw beds!" said Ménard, as he examined the sheets, which scratched his hand. "And I fancied that I was going to sink into a soft feather-bed! These are terribly poor sheets! And yet, monsieur le baron says that one is well taken care of here! I shall go to bed in my drawers. God grant that the supper may make up for the rest!"

Dubourg had gone down to speak to his postilion, with whom he settled his account, ordering him to leave the place before dawn; for he had only three louis left of the twelve Frédéric had lent him, and he was not anxious to keep a carriage that he could not pay for. That business adjusted, he prowled about Mademoiselle Goton, to whom he wished to say a few words. The servant was inclined to look favorably on Dubourg, because he had borne himself gallantly with the peddlers; for a courageous act pleases a country wench no less than a _petite-maîtresse_; but Goton had to help her master in the kitchen, and then serve the four men in the living-room, who seemed disposed to pass the night drinking, and to postpone their departure till daybreak.

They laughingly toyed with the buxom servant, who had much ado to defend herself from the familiarities of those gentry; but Goton was accustomed to fighting with such clowns: she boxed the ears of one and kicked another; she pinched and scratched, and the fellows found her all the more seductive.

Being busily occupied thus in all directions, Goton could do no more than whisper a word of hope to Dubourg, giving him to understand that the peddlers would be gone at daybreak, her employers asleep, and herself more at liberty. This promise delighted our friend; he was talking with Goton at the foot of the staircase, and gave her a resounding kiss. The girl ran away; but, on looking up, Dubourg saw Ménard, who had come out, with a candle in his hand, to ascertain whether they were likely to have any supper, and was decidedly amazed to see the Palatine of Rava embracing a dishwasher.

Dubourg, who was never disconcerted, went to meet him, saying:

"The Emperor Heliogabalus rewarded the cook who invented a new dish; I embrace the person who informs me that our supper is ready."

Ménard asked nothing more; he went back to Frédéric with Dubourg, and Goton laid the table in one of the rooms.

"Now to the table, and _vive la gaieté_!" said Dubourg, more at ease since he was certain that he would soon be rid of his carriage. Ménard responded to the invitation by a gracious smile, and Frédéric finally decided to leave the moon and turn his mind to earthly affairs.

"Let us taste the wine first of all," said Dubourg; "is it the best, my child?"

"Yes, monsieur; it's the best, for we haven't got any other."

"It's a little sour," said Ménard, making a wry face.

"We have some white that's sweeter," said Goton.

"Go and get us some of the white, my dear; don't spare anything; you don't have people like us to supper every day."

"No, indeed," said Ménard; "and we will hope that the rabbit stew is made with that understanding."

Dubourg served the stew; but the innkeeper, disturbed by his wife's adventure in the corridor, had allowed it to burn, and Goton, being constantly beset by the four peddlers, had put the onions in too late and had not grated the bacon. Dubourg vainly insisted on declaring that it had a delicious odor; Ménard said nothing, because he dared not contradict monsieur le baron; but his face grew darker with every mouthful.

"What infernal kind of a stew is this?" said Frédéric, pushing away the plate that Dubourg persisted in offering him. "A rabbit that has had nothing to eat but cabbage, raw onions, and rancid lard; and a detestable burned taste, in addition."

"It can't be denied," said Ménard, "that it doesn't come up to what monsieur le baron told us."

"What do you expect, messieurs?" said Dubourg; "a cook must make mistakes sometimes. _Errare humanum est_; isn't that so, Monsieur Ménard?"

"A cook ought never _errare_, monsieur le baron."

"It's partly your fault, too. You disturbed his mind; why in the devil did you go prowling about under his wife's skirts?"

"I only wanted to get by, monsieur le baron."

"Only a husband should take that road, Monsieur Ménard."

"My intentions were pure, monsieur le baron."

"I never doubted it; but your position was shockingly equivocal."

"Monsieur le baron, in the temple of Apollo, the pythonesses, seated on the sacred tripod, received the prophetic exhalations under their robes."

"If my wife had seated herself on that tripod, Monsieur Ménard, I should have asked for a separation."

Goton put an end to this conversation by bringing an omelet and white wine.

"Were the gentlemen satisfied with the stew?" she asked.

"It was worse than the devil!" replied Frédéric.

"It was a total failure," said Ménard.

"My dear child," added Dubourg, "the rabbits in Bretagne don't smell so strong of cabbage. They have fine rabbits there; but here you have a very bad way of bringing them up."

"It would seem that monsieur le baron has passed a good deal of time in Bretagne?" said Ménard, respectfully putting out his hand to take a pinch of snuff from the King of Prussia's snuff-box, which Dubourg offered him.

"Yes, Monsieur Ménard; and I admit that I still have a weakness for that province. I have such delightful recollections of it! Ah! how lovely the sky is in Bretagne! And the fields--how pretty they are! What rich pastures, what enchanting groves! You can walk leagues and leagues without once leaving the leafy thickets and flower-grown paths which make the fields of Bretagne one endless garden."

"But Poland, monsieur le baron?"

"Oh! Poland has its good points, of course. Have you ever been there, Monsieur Ménard?"

"I have not had that honor, monsieur le baron."

"As you are not familiar with the country, I will talk with you often about it."

"It must be a very interesting country."

"Extremely interesting, and extremely picturesque; first of all, we have the Krapach Mountains, beside which Mont Cenis is no more than a little hillock."

"Oh, indeed! they are covered with snow, of course?"

"Almost all the year. I have a château on the summit of one of those mountains, where only chamois can keep their footing."

"But how do you reach your château, monsieur le baron?"

"I have had a winding staircase constructed inside the mountain; it cost me a hundred thousand francs, but it's a wonderful piece of work, and people come hundreds of miles to see it. I trust, Monsieur Ménard, that I shall have the pleasure of showing it to you, and of entertaining you for some time at my castle of Krapach. I will give you a glass of a certain tokay which came to me from Tekely's cellar; and you will tell me what you think of it."

"Ah! monsieur le baron, you overpower me. But it must be very cold at your château, is it not?"

"It used to be very cold, in truth, in the days of my ancestors; but, thanks to recent scientific discoveries, I have found a way of modifying the temperature--a very simple method, which answers my purposes perfectly."

"What is it, pray, monsieur le baron?"

"I have built a gasometer under the château; gas, as you know, makes the earth very warm; indeed, in some places directly over the pipes, I raise green peas in January.--What is it, my dear count? drink, drink, or you will choke!"

Frédéric had, in fact, much difficulty in listening to this discourse, which Dubourg delivered with imperturbable gravity, while Ménard listened with childlike confidence to every word uttered by the baron.

At that moment, the conversation was interrupted by a violent shock, followed by an ominous cracking.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Ménard; "what can that be? This house doesn't seem to be very solidly built."

"Can it be that they are firing cannon to celebrate our arrival in the village?" Dubourg asked Goton, who replied, with a laugh:

"Oh! no, monsieur; it ain't anything; it's only madame going to bed, that's all."

This explanation made the young men laugh; but Ménard was not satisfied until he was assured that the hostess slept on the same floor; he would not have consented to pass the night on the floor below a woman who shook the house whenever she moved; it was quite enough to remain under the same roof with her.

The white wine, being a little more palatable than the red, enabled them to eat an omelet with parsley, which Dubourg tried in vain to make them think was tarragon. For dessert there was nothing to offer the travellers except some Géromé cheese, which could have walked to the table unassisted at need, and the odor of which drove Frédéric from his seat. He went to bed in the other room, bidding the servant wake him early in the morning, as he had no desire to prolong his stay at the inn. Monsieur Ménard deemed it his duty to remain with the baron, who plied him with bumper after bumper and went into raptures over the taste of the cheese, which, he said, reminded him of what he had eaten in Switzerland, thereby putting an end to the ex-tutor's desire to lunch or sup in a chalet.

"Yes, Monsieur Ménard," said Dubourg; "if you should go to Gruyère, a small Swiss village noted for its cheeses, which are its only source of wealth, you would smell a league away the chalets in which they are made. When you have passed a night in one of them, you smell the cheese for a week, an excellent thing for the lungs. But you must feel the need of rest, Monsieur Ménard; pray go to bed. I propose to pass the night writing."

"Monsieur le baron, I shall never dare to take the liberty--before you----"

"Why not, pray? Diogenes went to bed in his tub, before Alexander; and Crates did not hesitate to show his rump to his fellow citizens."

"It is you who order me to do it, monsieur le baron."

"I don't order you to show me your rump, Monsieur Ménard; but I urge you to go to bed as if I weren't here."

Fatigue and the white wine combined to make sleep essential to Ménard, so he did not wait to be urged again; he went behind the flowered curtains, and prepared to retire. Meanwhile, Dubourg, seated at a table in a corner of the room, pretended to look over papers and take notes, but he was really waiting impatiently for the tutor to fall asleep, in order to give the postilion of the berlin the signal to go; for he was afraid that Ménard would wake early, and it would be very embarrassing if the carriage were not then at a safe distance from the village. For this reason, he was anxious to hasten the postilion's departure.

The gate was not closed; Goton alone would see what took place; Dubourg knew how to assure her discretion.

It was a quarter of an hour since Ménard had disappeared behind the curtains. Dubourg thought that he must be asleep, and was about to go downstairs, when he heard a suppressed groan from the direction of the bed.

"Aren't you feeling well, Monsieur Ménard?" he asked, partly opening the curtains.

What was his surprise to find poor Ménard, in shirt and drawers and a cotton nightcap, standing beside the bed, and trying in vain to reach the top with the aid of a chair which was too low to bring his short legs on a level with the mattress.

"What, Monsieur Ménard! not in bed yet?"

"No, monsieur le baron; I have been trying in vain for ten minutes to climb up into my bed. Isn't it an outrage? I call it making fools of their guests to give them beds that reach the ceiling! Everybody isn't six feet tall; and unless one's a giant----"

"Come, come, don't get excited, Monsieur Ménard; why didn't you call me to help you?"

"Oh! monsieur le baron, I shouldn't have presumed to take the liberty."

"You were wrong, for you can't pass the whole night trying to climb into bed."

Without awaiting a reply, Dubourg bade Ménard stand on the chair; then, placing his hands upon a certain rotund portion of the professor's anatomy, he put forth all his strength to lift him into the bed.

"_Sic itur ad astra!_" he said.

"_Labor improbus omnia vincit_" rejoined Ménard, trying to seize his bolster.

"Ouf!" exclaimed Dubourg.

"I am there, monsieur le baron!" cried Ménard, delighted to be safely in bed at last.

"That's very lucky! Good-night!"

"A thousand thanks, monsieur le baron!"

When he left the bed, Dubourg was careful to remove the chair that stood beside it, thus making it certain that Ménard would not rise until he, Dubourg, chose. This precaution might result in placing the tutor in an unfortunate position; whether it did so, the sequel will show.

Ménard had not been in bed five minutes before he was snoring vociferously.

"Good! I am safe now," thought Dubourg; and, taking his light, he went down noiselessly into the innyard. As he passed the living-room, he glanced in: two of the peddlers were asleep on the table, the others were still drinking; but everything indicated that they would soon follow their companions' example.

Dubourg found his postilion, and, putting a five-franc piece in his hand, ordered him to start at once. In a very few minutes, the horses were harnessed, and the noble palatine's berlin was out of the village.

"But how are you going to manage about going away to-morrow?" queried Goton, who had just joined Dubourg in the yard.

"Oh! we have another carriage, an excellent post chaise, which is being repaired for us; as to what I have just done, I am going to tell you what you must say; do you understand, Goton?"

As he spoke, he slipped two five-franc pieces into the girl's pocket; it was a larger sum than the poor drudge often earned in six months at that wretched inn, and the sight of the two great coins made her as docile as a lamb.

"Oh! that's enough," she said, as Dubourg put his arms about her robust figure; "that's enough! I'll say whatever you want me to; anyway, that carriage was yours, and you could do what you please with it. _Jarni!_ you tickle me! don't pinch so hard! Oh! what a man!"

"Where is your room, Goton?"

"My room? I haven't got any room; I sleep in the little barn over there, with the cow. _Dame!_ I don't have anything but an old straw bed on the ground, because the missus says there's no use of wearing out sheets. But it ain't cold there, anyway; Bebelle keeps me warm."

"Who's Bebelle?"

"Why, she's our cow. Oh! she's so soft and warm! But how he pinches! Dieu! what a pincher you are!"

"Come to your room; we can talk better there; with you, Goton, the barn becomes a boudoir, and straw, feathers."

"What's a boudoir?"

"Come, and I'll tell you."

"And what about the peddlers?"

"They don't need you any more; haven't they paid their bills?"

"Yes. Anyway, master knows 'em."

"In that case, there's no need of your sitting up any longer."

"But suppose they should want anything?"

"Two of them are sound asleep already, and the two others will very soon be in the same condition. Come, I tell you; it's nonsense to sit up till daylight for them. You need sleep, Goton."

The servant was half vanquished. She ceased to resist Dubourg's arguments, and allowed him to lead her to the cow-barn, which they both entered, closing the door behind them. The door had no other fastening than a hook on the outside; but the girl slept there without fear, as there were no robbers thereabout.

But one of the peddlers was not asleep; he, too, was engrossed by thoughts of Goton, and he was waiting for his companions to lose themselves in slumber before attempting to join the seductive servant.

This man had noticed that one of the strangers was prowling about Goton, and it had irritated him; but he had not dared to watch him too closely, being still held in respect by the recollection of the pistols.

When all three of his comrades had their heads on the table, he rose softly and went out to look for Goton, knowing the location of her bedroom. He took no light, in order not to betray his whereabouts, and crept stealthily toward the cow-barn.

He was still some yards away, when he heard two voices saying some very pretty things to each other; he crept nearer, and grasped the thread of the conversation distinctly enough; for Dubourg and Goton, thinking that their only neighbors were animals, were talking together without restraint.

The peddler was furious, but how could he be revenged? He had no desire to pick a quarrel with Dubourg; it would be a waste of time to call the landlord, for that worthy man and his spouse always locked themselves in their room to avoid being disturbed; besides, who would dare to assume the task of getting the hostess out of bed? and, after all, what did it matter to them that a guest was with their servant? they probably did not consider themselves responsible for Goton's virtue.

The peddler determined to play some trick on the amorous couple. He could think of nothing better than to hook the door on the outside, which he did very softly, then stole away, delighted with his exploit, and saying to himself:

"They won't get out of that place till someone lets 'em out; for the door's a stout one, and I defy 'em to break it down."

He joined his companions; day broke ere long, and their business required the peddlers to leave the inn. They were soon ready, and, as they shouldered their packs, they listened to their confrère's story of the trick he had played on the stranger. They all applauded him, being overjoyed to be revenged on a man who had refused to be frightened by their cudgels; and they went their way, laughing at the thought of the scene that would take place at the inn in the morning.

During these occurrences, Ménard did not continue in the same tranquil state in which we left him. The white wine, with which monsieur le baron had filled his glass so often, produced its due effect. Ménard woke; he turned over and put out his hand to find the chair, which he expected to use as a means of descending from his bed; for in such wretched inns there is never a night table. But to no purpose did he stretch out his arm and feel about in all directions. He could find no chair! In that case, how was he to climb down from that bed, which reached to the roof? yet he felt sure that it was becoming absolutely necessary. He listened, but could hear nothing; he put aside the curtains--the most profound darkness reigned in the room. Monsieur le baron must have gone to sleep in his chair, as he had planned to do; but, in any event, how could he presume to ask the Palatine of Rava to give him the---- No, he could never do that! On the other hand, to jump out of bed was to run the risk of hurting himself, or at least of not being able to get back. It was most embarrassing, and poor Ménard, sitting up in bed, could not decide what course to pursue.

Necessity knows no law, says an old proverb; besides, monsieur le baron was so kind and good-natured and obliging! This thought emboldened Ménard; he coughed, gently at first, then a little louder; and finally he ventured to call, in a low tone:

"Monsieur le baron--if you are not asleep, may I presume to ask you to assist me? I am sadly embarrassed, monsieur le baron."

But at that moment Baron Dubourg was with Goton, busily engaged in teaching her what a boudoir is, and that a garret, a thicket, a loft, a cave, a kitchen, a cellar, or a barn may deserve that name when one is in either of those places with one's love. And Goton understood the lesson perfectly, because she was quick-witted, and because Dubourg, who had had some experience, was an excellent teacher.

"Monsieur le baron must sleep very soundly," thought Ménard. "What a cursed place this is! this infernal bed, where I can't turn over without pricking my legs--I believe the mattress is stuffed with oat straw! Well, no matter what happens, I must try to slide down."

He had put one of his short legs over the edge of the bed, when he heard a tremendous uproar in the room; a chair was overturned, a jug that stood on it fell to the floor and broke, and a number of dark objects scuttled along the wall and went out through the door. Ménard was stiff with terror.

"Monsieur le baron, monsieur le baron!" he called, in a stifled voice; "is that you?"

There was no reply. The poor man had not the courage to leave the bed, but buried his head under the clothes; his fright causing him to lose all power of restraint, it soon became unnecessary for him to get out, and he fell asleep without being further disturbed; for it was neither thieves nor hobgoblins who had caused the tumult in his chamber, but simply two cats, which, finding the door open, had paid a visit to their usual place of abode. While fighting over a bit of rabbit, which monsieur le baron had tossed under the table while declaring that it was delicious, the beasts had overturned a chair on which was a jug of water, and the noise had so terrified them that they fled incontinently, abandoning the subject of controversy.

Meanwhile, the day had broken. The innkeeper quitted his chaste partner, who rose at six but was not dressed until nine. Frédéric woke, and so did Ménard, the latter being very uncomfortable for reasons which you can guess. Dubourg, having no further instruction to give Goton, desired to return to his room, and Goton found it harder than usual to leave her pallet, because Dubourg's lessons had fatigued her. But the pretended baron tried in vain to leave the shed. For five minutes he pushed and shook the door, which did not yield.

"Goton--Goton, did you lock the door?" he asked.

"Naw! it don't lock," replied the girl, rubbing her eyes.

"But I can't open it."

"Push hard."

"I am pushing as hard as I can, but it won't open."

"Bah! you city folks haven't got any strength!" said the servant; and she struck the door a violent blow with her fist, but without effect.

"_Jarni!_ someone must have hooked it outside."

"Who in the devil can have played us such a trick?"

"_Pardi!_ it must have been one of the peddlers--because they had their eyes on me, don't you see? and perhaps they saw that you was in here."

"I haven't any desire to pass my day in this shed."

"I'll milk the cow for you."

"Much obliged."

"And you can tell me something."

"I don't know anything more. This smell of cow and filth goes to my head."

"Oh! you said just now that this shed was a little--what d'you call it?--a pretty little _bouloir_, with me."

"Oh! there's a great difference between _just now_ and _now_. A place ceases to be agreeable, Goton, when you are compelled to stay in it. But it's broad daylight; if that window wasn't so small, we could get out through it."

"Oh! you can't do that."

"Ah! I have an idea! We must make the best of it. Bring that stone here, Goton; stand on it with me, so that our heads will be near the window, and then shout as I do."

"What will I shout?"

"What I do."

Dubourg put his face to the round hole over the door, and began to cry at the top of his voice:

"Help! thieves! stop the carriage! thieves!"

"Where's the thieves?" whispered Goton.

"Will you do what I tell you to?" repeated Dubourg.

"All right; I'll yell, if it amuses you," rejoined the servant. And her strong voice, reinforcing Dubourg's, soon aroused the whole household and a good part of the village.

The innkeeper ran to the spot as fast as his left leg allowed, it being two inches shorter than the other. Frédéric came out of his room; Ménard sat up in bed, and succeeded, with his pupil's aid, in reaching the floor. He dressed in haste, and went downstairs close on the heels of Frédéric, who had recognized Dubourg's voice and was more curious than alarmed, suspecting some new invention on the baron's part. They all went out into the yard, where they were joined by the neighbors and a number of laborers on their way to work, who had been attracted by Dubourg's reiterated shouts of:

"Thieves! stop the carriage!"

They looked about, but saw no carriage; whereupon Goton roared:

"Monsieur le baron's carriage has run off!"

The shed door was opened at last, and Dubourg rushed out like a madman, raving and swearing, heedless of the fact that his trousers were stained with filth.

"What's the matter, monsieur le baron?" queried Ménard, in dismay.

"The matter? my berlin--that scoundrel of a postilion! he has run away and taken it with him--with fifty thousand francs in gold that I had in one of the pockets!"

"Oh! mon Dieu!"

"My father's berlin! the equipage of the Potoskis! It isn't the money that I regret--but a berlin in which the Princess of Hungary---- Ah! my friends, scour the country in all directions--follow every road--a hundred louis to the man who brings it back!"

"A hundred louis to the man who brings back the carriage!" said Goton.

"They will be very smart if they overtake it," said Dubourg, in an undertone; "it must be near to Paris now."

"But how did you come to be locked into the shed with Goton?" inquired the innkeeper.

"I should think you might guess that. I heard a noise in the yard during the night; I came downstairs softly and found my rascal harnessing the horses, intending to make his escape while we were asleep. Unluckily, I had no weapons, and the postilion is a much stronger man than I am. I attempted to go to call you, but the villain seized me, and, despite my resistance, forced me into the barn, where this girl was sleeping, and locked us in there. We began at once to shout for help; but you sleep like dead men."

"Yes, yes, that's how it was!" said Goton, understanding now why Dubourg had told her to shout _thieves_.

"You must go to monsieur le maire," said Ménard; "you must have the police ordered out.--There's a mayor here, of course?"

"Yes, monsieur; the wine merchant; but he'll have to send to the next village for the police, and that will take two hours."

"Don't be disturbed, my dear Ménard," said Frédéric, with a smile, "we have a comfortable post chaise to take the place of monsieur le baron's berlin."

"But fifty thousand francs in gold, monsieur le comte!"

"Oh! it isn't the loss of the money that distresses me," said Dubourg; "my fortune can stand that loss. Luckily, I still have fifteen thousand francs in my wallet, to pay my expenses for some little time; but I especially regret my wardrobe; there was a great trunk under the carriage, full of clothes and linen."

"Certainly," observed Frédéric, with a mischievous glance at Dubourg and Goton, "you need a change of clothing now; you must have fallen while you were in the barn."

Dubourg looked at him with an expression that signified: "I don't know why you need have called attention to that!" as he replied:

"I certainly didn't go in like a lamb; ask Goton how the rascal handled me!"

"Oh! yes," said the servant, "he threw you down more'n four times."

"At all events, my friend, my wardrobe is at your service," said Frédéric.

"And mine too, monsieur le baron," added Ménard, bowing to Dubourg; and he went back to his room to finish dressing, the baron having promised to go and lodge a complaint with the mayor.

Frédéric's postilion came at last to inform the travellers that the chaise was ready. Ménard came down from his room, thanking heaven that they were to leave that inn, which had been so disastrous to them. Goton came down behind him, and whispered to Dubourg:

"One of your friends ain't very well brought up; a man of his age do such things as that! If my little brother did it, he'd get a licking."

In two words, Dubourg learned what had happened; he could not help laughing at the catastrophe, for which he was responsible; while Ménard glared angrily at the servant, who put out her tongue at him, shrugged her shoulders, and followed him about, saying in an undertone:

"For shame! what a dirty trick! a man fifty years old! who ain't learned to be clean!"

The carriage awaited the travellers, and they took their seats with much satisfaction: Dubourg, overjoyed to be rid of his berlin; Ménard, impatient to leave Goton and the inn, for which he had conceived an intense aversion; and Frédéric, because he was much more comfortable in the roomy, well-hung post chaise than in monsieur le baron's wretched berlin.

Ménard sighed once or twice for the seat that the Princess of Hungary had occupied; but he still had to console him the King of Prussia's snuff-box, and the prospect of drinking tokay from Tekely's cellar.