as he skipped along,--

"The King of the South,
He burned his mouth," etc.

CHAPTER V

The illustrious Gaudissart returned to the Soleil d'Or, where he
naturally conversed with the landlord while waiting for dinner.
Mitouflet was an old soldier, guilelessly crafty, like the peasantry of
the Loire; he never laughed at a jest, but took it with the gravity of
a man accustomed to the roar of cannon and to make his own jokes under
arms.

"You have some very strong-minded people here," said Gaudissart, leaning
against the door-post and lighting his cigar at Mitouflet's pipe.

"How do you mean?" asked Mitouflet.

"I mean people who are rough-shod on political and financial ideas."

"Whom have you seen? if I may ask without indiscretion," said the
landlord innocently, expectorating after the adroit and periodical
fashion of smokers.

"A fine, energetic fellow named Margaritis."

Mitouflet cast two glances in succession at his guest which were
expressive of chilling irony.

"May be; the good-man knows a deal. He knows too much for other folks,
who can't always understand him."

"I can believe it, for he thoroughly comprehends the abstruse principles
of finance."

"Yes," said the innkeeper, "and for my part, I am sorry he is a
lunatic."

"A lunatic! What do you mean?"

"Well, crazy,--cracked, as people are when they are insane," answered
Mitouflet. "But he is not dangerous; his wife takes care of him. Have
you been arguing with him?" added the pitiless landlord; "that must have
been funny!"

"Funny!" cried Gaudissart. "Funny! Then your Monsieur Vernier has been
making fun of me!"

"Did he send you there?"

"Yes."

"Wife! wife! come here and listen. If Monsieur Vernier didn't take it
into his head to send this gentleman to talk to Margaritis!"

"What in the world did you say to each other, my dear, good Monsieur?"
said the wife. "Why, he's crazy!"

"He sold me two casks of wine."

"Did you buy them?"

"Yes."

"But that is his delusion; he thinks he sells his wine, and he hasn't
any."

"Ha!" snorted the traveller, "then I'll go straight to Monsieur Vernier
and thank him."

And Gaudissart departed, boiling over with rage, to shake the ex-dyer,
whom he found in his salon, laughing with a company of friends to whom
he had already recounted the tale.

"Monsieur," said the prince of travellers, darting a savage glance at
his enemy, "you are a scoundrel and a blackguard; and under pain