the gentleman differs from that of the vulgar in
that he fears yet goes; and I lifted the latch, and entered boldly.
The scene which met my eyes inside was sufficiently commonplace to
reassure me. At the farther end of a long bare room, draughty,
half-lighted, and having an earthen floor, yet possessing that air of
homeliness which a wood fire never fails to impart, sat a single
traveller; who had drawn his small table under the open chimney, and
there, with his feet almost in the fire, was partaking of a poor meal
of black bread and onions. He was a tall, spare man, with sloping
shoulders and a long sour face, of which, as I entered, he gave me the
full benefit.

I looked round the room, but look as I might I could see no one else,
nor anything that explained what we had witnessed and I accosted the
man civilly, wishing him good evening. He made an answer, but
indistinctly, and, this done, went on with his meal like one who viewed
our arrival with little pleasure; while I, puzzled and astonished by
the ordinary look of things and the stillness of the house, affected to
warm my feet at the logs. At length, espying no signs of disturbance
anywhere, I asked him if he was alone.

"I was, sir," he answered gravely.

I was going on to tell him, though reluctantly, what we had seen
outside, and to question him upon it, when on a sudden, before I could
speak again, he leaned towards me and accosted me with startling
abruptness. "Sir," he said, "I should like to have your opinion of
Louis Eleven."

I stared at him in the most perfect astonishment; and was for a moment
so completely taken aback that I mechanically repeated his words. For
answer, he did so also.

"The Eleventh Louis?" I said.

"Yes," he rejoined, turning his pale visage full upon me. "What is
your opinion of him, sir? He was a man?"

"Well," I said, shrugging my shoulders, "I take that for granted." I
began to think that the traveller was demented.

"And a king?"

"Yes, I suppose so," I answered contemptuously. "I never heard it
doubted."

He leaned towards me, and spoke with the most eager impressiveness. "A
man--and a king!" he said. "Yet neither a manly king, nor a kingly
man! You take me?"

"Yes," I said impatiently. "I see what you mean.

"Neither a kingly man, nor a manly king!" he repeated with solemn
gusto. "You take me clearly, I think?"

I had no stomach for further fooleries, and I was about to answer him
with some