THE innkeeper was a man of middle size, half Spaniard and half Moor, with a big body and thin leys, a brown skin and grey eyes. He had acquired considerable reputation in the district for his mode of dressing calves’ feet with saffron, and his handiness in stabbing people in the right place. He made everything a matter of trade, and used to regret that he had inherited no religious opinions which he could have abjured at a fixed price to be got either from the Saracens or the Christians. For the rest, he was a most obliging host, provided your purse was well supplied; and I believe I shall put the finishing stroke to the likeness when I say he was the biggest robber in all Spain, from Pontevedra to Girone.

Ali PÉpÉ opened the door. One is always forgetting something, and I forgot to tell you his name was Ali PÉpÉ.

“Where’s the landlady?” asked Allegrignac, twisting his moustache.

“I want a bed,” yawned Porc-en-Truie.

“Some supper!” growled Mont-Rognon.

Maragougnia said nothing. He was absorbed in studying the inn, and the estimate he formed seemed far from satisfactory.

Ali PÉpÉ stood on the defensive, blocking the entrance of the inn.

“Your lordships appear of too exalted a station for me to omit to inform you that you will find the accommodation here very unsuited to you.”

“Here’s frankness and disinterestedness! But where can we find better accommodation?”

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“My inn is the only one in the district.”

“Then make way for us,” said Mont-Rognon, catching up Ali Pope by the girdle, and carrying him in at arm’s length into the kitchen. “We shall be able to converse better here!” Maragougnia entered last. He tried all the locks, in order to see whether the doors closed securely. He examined all the outlets, sounded the panels, and ordered his squire to bring him his arms.

“We want four beds,” said Porc-en-Truie.

“In the same room,” said Maragougnia, who had a horror of being solitary.

“First of all we want supper,” bellowed Mont-Rognon; “don’t let us forget the most important of our wants.”

“A modest supper,” suggested Maragougnia, who was afraid of the expense.

“A modest supper!” bellowed the Lord of Bourglastic. “Don’t you do anything of the kind, landlord, or I’ll burn the place about your ears. Empty your poultry-yard, drag your fish-ponds, uncork your bottles; set to work—kill, pluck, draw, and broach,—in short, make ready, to the best of your power, a feast for an emperor or a sultan!”

“You will lay for me separately,” said the Count of Riom, tearfully, “a few radishes and some wine of first-rate——”

“Cheapness,” kindly suggested Allegrignac, with a smile.

“May I know whom I have the honour to serve?” said Ali PÉpÉ, with a bow so respectful that Maragougnia was horrified to see it, fearing it would be included in the bill.

“Nothing easier,” said Allegrignac, returning Ali’s bow. “The short gentleman you see there is Purveyor-in-Chief to Charlemagne and all the crowned heads of the civilised world, from Armenia to Lusitania, from Scandinavia to Tripoli. He travels from district to district in search of new dishes to delight the royal tables. His dissertation on roasts is in everybody’s mouth. He has proved satisfactorily that beef ought not to be taken from the spit until the meat begins to turn brown and show the gravy; that mutton should be taken from the fire as soon as it begins to redden; and that veal should not be dished up until the meat is quite white. This man, who seems so unpretending, has discovered that thirst is fostered by currents of air; that the Scythians have stomachs an inch smaller than the Germans have; but then, on the other hand, deeper by seven times than those of the Cimmerians. He was the first who fried carp in rose-water; and he has, at last, after long and wearisome research, found in an old manuscript the recipe for garum, which was so highly prized by the ancients, but was thought to be lost. He has confided the secret to me, and I reveal it to you, in the hope that it will incite you to give us a better supper. Learn then, profane wretch! that in order to prepare this dainty dish, you must let a hen-mackerel lie in pickle with small mushrooms for seventeen nights at the full of the moon. The inside must be removed carefully, pounded, soaked, and braized with religious care in a bag of rose-coloured silk—and mind, it must be rose-coloured. The liquor thus procured is gathered in a silver vessel, when the weather is fine—or stormy. It must be left to settle for three weeks and seven hours, after having been mixed with a preparation, of which I forget the composition, but which is the chief ingredient, and gives all the value to the dish. You see with whom you have to deal: be sure, therefore, that the repast is worthy of this great dignitary and of us!”

Ali PÉpÉ bowed.

“That gentleman who is snoring yonder travels in the hope of introducing some improvement into the royal sleeping arrangements. No one knows better than he the wisest adjustment of counterpanes, quilts, blankets, bolsters, pillows, and valances. His comparative treatise, entitled ‘Lectus cubilaris, Lucubratorius, Emortualis, Genialis et Decubitorius,’ has been engrossed on vellum by the monks of Monte Casino. To him belongs the honour of superseding the sack of maize-straw by the down-bed, which he imported from Cimbria; as also that of adding a second mattress to the sleeping-tackle of Royalty, which used to consist solely of a ticken, a pillow, and a bundle of straw. You see, therefore, that you must be careful to lodge us well for the night.”

Ali PÉpÉ made another low bow.

“I don’t like talking about myself,” said Allegrignac, “but for this once I will yield to your importunity, ami inform you who I am. You must surely have heard of the great giantess Alcomiroziropoulopilousitounitapignac!”

The landlord eyed the Count of Salgoon askance for awhile, then, resigning himself to his fate, he made an assenting gesture.

“She was my mother,” said Allegrignac. “She perished after six: years of married happiness, murdered by my unhappy father, who was never tired of beating her. Disgusted with matrimony—and not without cause—she determined to live single. I came into the world within twelve months afterwards, and chose the profession of arms. My fortune, my noble birth—everything assured me that I must owe everything to my own prowess. I cheerfully accepted my lot, and crossed the Alps to avenge my father. I laid siege to Toulouse. Need I continue to relate my misfortunes?”

“Not on my account, my lord. The particulars you have just related suffice to inform me with whom I have to deal. I have only to ask you who the fourth warrior of your party is?”

“This weeping willow——”

“I am a poor devil of a wanderer in search of fortune,” hastily interposed Maragougnia. “My wants are as modest as my means: I know how to be satisfied with little.”

“I treat my customers according to their tastes and their purses,” said Ali PÉpÉ. “You have, noble sirs, asked for a good many things. I will now give you a sketch of the accommodation I have to offer. I have but one room and one bed to let——”

“I’ll take it, then,” said Porc-en-Truie, promptly: “I wouldn’t sleep out of doors to-night for the world. I shall not resume my journey till to-morrow. In the meantime, though, if either of you wishes to have half the bed——”

“Thanks, I shall push on to-night,” said Maragougnia, as he left the room to find his squire, and tell him not to give the horses a feed. “They will find grazing on the road,” he remarked.

“As for me,” said Mont-Rognon, “I give up the room to you with all my heart. I intend to spend the night in eating. I shall not start till to-morrow morning.”

“I’ll keep you company till then,” said Allegrignac; “we have a few bottles and an old dispute to settle. You owe me a dozen, and I’ll bet you that you’ll be under the table by the ninth. I feel just in the humour for the trial to-day.”

A scornful smile was the only answer vouchsafed by Mont-Rognon, who turned to the host, and asked, “What soup do you think you can give us?”

“Can your lordship put up with pomegranate soup?”

“Let us see the pomegranates.”

Ali ran to his larder, and returned with a basket-full of fruit. Mont-Rognon selected a dozen.

“Don’t forget to serve it up warm, and with a slice or two of orange in it. What next?”

“If your lordship will leave it to me, you shall have no reason to complain. I have been head cook to the King of Mesopotamia for ten years, and His Majesty told me, only eight days since, that he has no pleasure in eating now I have left him. I would suggest, for soups, pomegranate, water-gruel, and ortolan; for entrees, calves’ feet and saffron, and fillet of venison with sweetbreads. For the next course, chicken farci a la Madame RÂpÉe, heron garnished with woodcocks, roast sucking-pig with cameline sauce.”

“I should like well enough a quarter of whale served up on a layer of eggs,” said Allegrignac, carelessly.

“You might have had it this morning. Unfortunately, they had the last of it for King Marsillus to-day.”

“You will give us, instead, a peacock. You will stuff it with chestnuts and saffron, and serve it up with fennel and powdered sugar.”

“I can also offer your lordships dory with orange-juice, and lampreys with lily sauce.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, sir. The bill of fare is simple, but select!”

“Now, by Lenten fasts! you want to starve us to death,” said Mont-Rognon. “You must improve this poor fare, Master Head Cook of the King of Mesopotamia. Let us have ragout of venison, salt quarter of hare, preserved cabbage, purÉe of foreign figs À la Sardanapale, pigs’ chitterlings with sweet wine sauce, and ribs of beef in honey. Now, be off to your kitchen, and if we want anything else, we’ll let you know.”

Ali made a low bow, and was about to leave the room.

“One word more,” said Allegrignac. “Don’t forget to send up the roasts on the spit, and, above all, be particular about the wine Don’t be afraid of sending up plenty of bottles.”

“And, stay, landlord!” said Porc-en-Truie, “as you go you can show me my room. Farewell, Allegrignac! Your hand, Mont-Rognon! Good luck to you, Maragougnia! I shall be asleep, no doubt, when you start. I trust you will succeed, and take back to the Emperor what he wishes.”

“We shall be sufficiently fortunate if we take back a whole skin!” sighed the Count of Riom, preparing to depart.

In the next chapter you will see how the four knights set about the accomplishment of Charlemagne’s wishes.

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