bear malice?"

"If ever I meet you," said the veteran, in a suppressed and hollow tone,
"when my children have no longer need of me, I will just say two words
to you, and they will not be long ones."

Then he turned his back abruptly on the Prophet, who walked slowly out
of the yard.

The inn of the White Falcon formed a parallelogram. At one end rose
the principal dwelling; at the other was a range of buildings, which
contained sundry chambers, let at a low price to the poorer sort of
travellers; a vaulted passage opened a way through this latter into
the country; finally, on either side of the court-yard were sheds and
stables, with lofts and garrets erected over them.

Dagobert, entering one of these stables, took from off a chest the
portion of oats destined for his horse, and, pouring it into a winnowing
basket, shook it as he approached Jovial.

To his great astonishment, his old travelling companion did not respond
with a joyous neigh to the rustle of the oats rattling on the wicker
work. Alarmed, he called Jovial with a friendly voice; but the animal,
instead of turning towards his master a look of intelligence, and
impatiently striking the ground with his fore-feet, remained perfectly
motionless.

More and more surprised, the soldier went up to him. By the dubious
light of a stable-lantern, he saw the poor animal in an attitude which
implied terror--his legs half bent, his head stretched forward, his ears
down, his nostrils quivering; he had drawn tight his halter, as if
he wished to break it, in order to get away from the partition that
supported his rack and manger; abundant cold-sweat had speckled his hide
with bluish stains, and his coat altogether looked dull and bristling,
instead of standing out sleek and glossy from the dark background of
the stable; lastly, from time to time, his body shook with convulsive
starts.

"Why, old Jovial!" said the soldier, as he put down the basket, in
order to soothe his horse with more freedom, "you are like thy
master--afraid!--Yes," he added with bitterness, as he thought of the
offence he had himself endured, "you are afraid--though no coward in
general."

Notwithstanding the caresses and the voice of his master, the horse
continued to give signs of terror; he pulled somewhat less violently
at his halter, and approaching his nostrils to the hand of Dagobert,
sniffed audibly, as if he doubted it were he.

"You don't know me!" cried Dagobert. "Something extra