loudly for an ostler, and, when one came out of the stables,
he coolly gave his orders without waiting for me, though I had been
first in the yard. He bade his own servant see their horses well fed,
and then made for the inn-door, casting a scornful glance at me, and
resuming his song in a lower voice. It was now my turn to be angry, and
justly, but I kept silence. I knew not exactly how to take this sort of
demonstration: whether it was a usual thing among travellers and to be
paid back only in kind, or whether for the sake of my reputation I ought
to treat it as a serious affront. It is, of course, childish to take
offence at a trifle. In my ignorance of what the world expects of a man
upon receipt of hostile and disparaging looks, I could only act as one
always must who cannot make up his mind--do nothing. After seeing my
horse and mule attended to, I bade Nicolas follow with the baggage, and
entered the inn.

The landlord was talking with my young singing gentleman, but made to
approach me as I came in. The young gentleman, however, speaking in a
peremptory manner, detained him with questions about the roads, the town
of La Fleche, and such matters. As I advanced, the young gentleman got
between me and the host, and continued his talk. I waited awkwardly
enough for the landlord's attention, and began to feel hot within. A
wench now placed on a table some wine that the young man had ordered,
and the landlord finally got rid of him by directing his attention to
it. As he went to sit down, he bestowed on me the faintest smile of
ridicule. I was too busy to think much of it at the moment, in ordering
a room for the night and sending Nicolas thither with my bag. I then
called for supper and sat down as far as possible from the other guest.
He and I were the only occupants of the room, but from the kitchen
adjoining came the noise of a number of the commonalty at food and
drink.

"Always politeness," thought I, when my wine had come, and so, in spite
of his rudeness and his own neglect of the courtesy, as I raised my
glass I said to him, "Your health, Monsieur."

He turned red at the reproach implied in my observance, then very
reluctantly lifted his own glass and said, "And yours," in a surly,
grudging manner.

"It has been a pleasant day," I went on, resolved not to be churlish, at
all hazards.

"Do you think so?" he replied contemptuously, and then turned to look
out of the window, and hummed the tune he had bee