CHAPTER III. HOW ALLEGRIGNAC, MARAGOUGNIA, PORC-EN-TRUIE, AND MONT-ROGNON OPENED THE CAMPAIGN.
PORC-EN-TRUIE followed Ali, who conducted him to the first floor, where they entered a chamber that was shabby enough in appearance in all conscience.
“Are you silly enough to think of putting me to sleep here?”
“It is the best room in the inn. King Marsillus slept here the day——”
“Come! I hope you are not going to talk more absurdity of that kind to me. Learn to understand better those with whom you have to deal. Where’s the bed?”
“Yonder, sir.”
“That a bed! By the beard of Solomon! what you have the impudence to call a bed would have horrified Job himself, and he passes for a person not easily dissatisfied. What is all that hanging about the curtains?”
“Those are cobwebs,” said Ali, with an air of satisfaction. “We take them down when our customers wish it, but they never do.”
“How is that?” asked Porc-en-Truie.
“Why, you see,” said the other, quietly, “the spider is insectivorous.”
“And you dare bring me here?” asked Porc-en-Truie, pale with rage. “I dare swear to your lordship there is not a better bed in the house.”
“Let me see yours;” and the knight seized the landlord, and made him conduct him to his own bedroom. It was not palatial by any means, but all was clean and neat in the host’s room, and the bed looked inviting.
“How, rogue! you would sleep in this lordly bed without a scruple, while I am served as food for the spiders you rear! Leave the room, and thank Heaven that you leave it by the door instead of the window!”
The Lord of Machavoine thrust the landlord out of the room. He, poor wretch! gave up his apartment with a very bad grace, and strove to argue the matter, but he got no answer. The shooting of the bolts, the creaking of the bed, were soon succeeded by a loud snoring, which deprived the defeated wretch of his last hope.
He was going down-stairs in anything but a good temper, when he heard some one moving cautiously at the bottom. The host of the “Crocodile” possessed the courage of those cowards who lie in wait to strike, but who succumb before a hidden danger or an imaginary one, and shrink from an open attack. Porc-en-Truie had kept the lamp—all was buried in complete darkness.
“Who is that?” asked Ali, in a disquieted tone.
“A friend,” answered a voice no less apprehensive.
The landlord drew from the folds of his tunic one of those formidable knives which are still the fashion in Spain, and, having opened it, softly descended the last few stairs.
“Who are you?—what do you want?”
“Don’t speak so loud, for goodness’ sake? Don’t you recognise my voice? I am one whom you supplied with radishes an hour since.”
“The knight with the black plume?”
“The same. Can I have a word with you in private?”
“We should find it difficult to discover a more secret and solitary spot than this. What is it you wish?”
“I should like to stop here a month, unknown to my four travelling companions—why, I will tell you later.”
“Nothing is easier. They will leave to-morrow.”
“I want a very humble lodging, which I expect I shall occupy for a month. But what I want more than all is your silence.”
“I am as mute as my conscience, and I have a room that will suit you to a nicety.” And Ali flattered himself that he had virtually let the lumber-room which had so distrusted Porc-en-Truie.
He retired for an instant, then returned with a light, and once more ascended the stairs, followed this time by Maragougnia. He opened the door, entered first, and putting his hand behind the flame to throw a good light on the scene, turned and said, with the tone of a man who feels he had done the right thing, “There—that’s the article for you.”
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The sudden appearance of the light put to flight a myriad of little black specks, that, hustling, scrambling, and running to and fro over the walls, finally disappeared in the hangings and wainscot.
“I want something more unpretending,” said Maragougnia, shading his eyes, dazzled by the light.
Ali could scarcely refrain from expressing his surprise in a shout. “More unpretending!” said he to himself, utterly disheartened. “These travellers are all alike—there’s no satisfying them!” But the landlord of “The Crocodile” was not the man to let himself be beaten by such a trifle. “If you will follow me, I have exactly what you require. I can let it you for next to nothing;” and he led the knight to a wretched outhouse, without either air or light, except such as came to it by reversion from the stable.
“There!” said Ali, briefly.
“This will suit me admirably. The smell of a stable is good for the lungs, so this atmosphere ought to be very healthy.”
“I let it to invalids,” said the landlord, stopping his nose. “Sleep in comfort; the straw is this year’s;” and Ali, taking the lamp, left Maragougnia alone with his thoughts.
“Go,” said the Count of Riom—“go, my dear fellow-travellers; go and get your necks twisted, and your bones broken. Go and seek a castle in the air for the satisfaction of a royal vagary. I, more wise than you, shall stop here. Who knows but that fortune may not visit me here?” Thus musing, he fell asleep, and dreamt that his squire had obtained for him a reduction of rent by turning the spit in the inn kitchen.
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When the host re-entered the supper-room he was astonished to see the table overturned, with its legs in the air, and Allegrignac and Mont-Rognon making a bed of it. They were sound asleep, far gone in that state of intoxication of which in after years the Templars afforded so many instances. Wrapt, up in the most brotherly way in the table-cloth, they reposed on a heap of odds and ends and broken crockery. The lamp had succumbed to the general disaster, and was sputtering and mouldering in the ruins of a venison pasty.
“Bravo!” said Ali, rubbing his hands. “These are the sort of customers I like. Furniture never gets faded with them, for one is always having new.” With that he set himself to break whatever had escaped the general smash; he even brought in a few damaged chairs, and distributed them artistically in fragments all over the room. Then, having picked up some gold pieces that had fallen on the floor, he went and lay down in the stable till morning.
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Mont-Rognon, whose normal state was semi-intoxication, was the first to wake next day. He gazed unmoved on the scene of destruction in the midst of which he had slept, and then went out into the yard to give himself a washing at the trough. Ali PÉpÉ, hearing him on the move, immediately made his appearance.
“Listen, landlord,” said the Lord of Bourglastic, “I like your style of cookery, and your wine suits my palate. I should like to stop here a month; but, for reasons best known to myself, I wish my fellow-travellers not to know that I have put up here. When that drunken fellow who dined with me last night wakes up, you must tell him I started without waiting for him. You will do the same with that sluggard up-stairs, and when they are fairly off, come and let me know. I will take your dining-room for a month, and I intend never to quit the table. I shall not stir out, and nobody save you must come near me. I will defray the charges, including this last dinner, but I must insist on being well served. Recruit your forces, stock your larder and your cellar, for by Bacchus! you have got a tough job before you. Only I warn you, if you tell a single soul that I am here, you had better make your will, and order your coffin!”
“What an odd lot!” said Ali, as he went in-doors. “Must I send my stingy customer of last night packing? Or must I tell my drunken friend of this morning that he is here? Pshaw! They are both afraid of being seen, and won’t stir out an inch. One ought not to miss any profits, however small.” With this reflection he went into the dining-room.
“Is that you, landlord? asked Allegrignac, without opening his eyes. ‘Can you tell me what has become of my friend?’ It’s no use for me to kick about—he’s not in the bed.”
“He is gone, my dear sir—gone quite an hour ago. He said to me, ‘Tell the knight I leave in your room on the ground-floor, that I am sorry I cannot stop to say good-bye, for the heat is coming on, and I don’t wish to delay my journey.’”
“Oh, so the drunken dog has gone—wonderful! I suppose he has paid?
“Not he, sir, truly. He told me you would see to that.”
Allegrignac not only opened his eyes at this, but he sat up on end. “At any rate, he paid his share?”
“He has not given me a penny piece; he told me he had won a wager of you.” Before Ali had finished the sentence Allegrignac was on his legs. “You’re no better than a brigand, and I’ll wring your neck for you!”
“I swear to you I have not received a farthing this blessed morning!”
“Well, well,” said the Count of SalenÇon, recovering his good humour, “I’m well enough off not to bother myself about a trifle like that. So you tell me my bed-fellow is really gone?”
“He is.”
“And the one who was here last night, too?”
“You saw him go yourself.”
“True. Then, if I calculate rightly, there’s only one more of us left.”
“The one who is snoring in my bed,” sighed Ali, spitefully.
“Very well, then; open your ears wide, and listen attentively to what I say. If you let a syllable escape you, you and I shall quarrel. For reasons that I need not state, I wish to put up at your inn for a month.”
“He, too!” thought Ali. “What is going to happen to the house?”
“You will choose me apartments opening on the garden. I shall not go out, and nobody must have access to me save you and the sun. You will have the room adorned with flowers. I never grumble at the accounts which innkeepers present to me. I satisfy myself with the explanation that they are not strong in their arithmetic; I am not myself, either. But I insist on being treated well. One word more: you give me the idea of a man who is rather proud of his ears. I always respect people’s tastes, but I shall be compelled to deprive you of those ornaments if you mention to a single soul that I have stayed here. You understand me?”
“Clearly!”
“Then lead me to my prison!”
It was not long before Allegrignac was duly installed. His furniture consisted of a bed, a table, some flowers, and a guitar. He ordered breakfast, and desired to be left to himself.
“I am curious to learn what these strange people want here,” said Ali, as he went up-stairs. “I only hope the fourth knight won’t take possession of my bed for an indefinite period. Let us try and get him out of it at once.”
The host gave a vigorous push at Porc-en-Truie’s door.
“Sir! you bade me call you in good time. The sun has been up some hours. Are not you going to start?”
“Come in!” said the Lord of Machavoine. “I want to have a word with you.”
“But, my dear sir, I can’t come in. You shut yourself in when you turned me out, and I know from experience that one cannot break in the door.”
Porc-en-Truie was reluctantly compelled to get out of bed and open the door, jumping into bed again, however, immediately, and turning his face to the wall.
“Do you know this bed is delicious! I have slept splendidly in it, and I am not such a fool as to go scouring the highways while I can get a good rest here. Listen to me attentively, and don’t let me have to repeat anything, for I’m dying for sleep. You will place beside me on a table a venison pasty, two cold dishes, some preserved fruit, and thirty bottles of wine. Thirty—you hear?”
“Only too well!”
“Once a week you will come in on tip-toe, and lay the repast afresh. I am going to take a nap—you may call me in a month’s time.”
“I trust you won’t think of doing so—keeping me out of my bedroom for a month-”
“I warn you that I do not know how much money there is in my purse, and that I sleep so soundly, you might rob me of it without my opening my eyes. Ah, by the way, I forgot! As I don’t wish to be disturbed, I command you not to tell a soul that I am here. I don’t care a bit if your inn is on fire, if the enemy is coming, or an earthquake happens. I mean to have my sleep out. Above all, don’t let my fellow-travellers know of my determination. Nothing less than your life or death depends on that. Now, set everything out properly here, and don’t let me hear any more of you for a month.”
“Sir—sweet sir—dear sir—great sir!” sighed the host, little elated at the prospect of sleeping for the next thirty nights in the stable, “can’t you choose some other resting-place? I can assure you, that if you go nearly as far as Montella—about half a day’s journey from here—you will find a magnificent hotel, where you will be infinitely better lodged than here. Are you listening to me, my dear sir?”
A vigorous snore proved to Ali that he was simply throwing away his eloquence. To make quite sure the knight was asleep, the landlord began to inspect his purse, but Porc-en-Truie did not stir.
“Well, this is sleeping like a nobleman,” said Ali, not half satisfied by the self-appointed award of a handful of gold pieces. “For this amount I can afford to let him finish his nap!”
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