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Updated: June 7, 2025
If you are attacked by a ruffian, as the elderly individual in Lavengro is in the inn-yard, it is quite lawful, if you can, to give him as good a thrashing as the elderly individual gave the brutal coachman; and if you see a helpless woman perhaps your own sister set upon by a drunken lord, a drunken coachman, or a drunken coalheaver, or a brute of any description, either drunk or sober, it is not only lawful but laudable, to give them, if you can, a good drubbing; but it is not lawful because you have a strong pair of fists, and know how to use them, to go swaggering through a fair, jostling against unoffending individuals; should you do so, you would be served quite right if you were to get a drubbing, more particularly if you were served out by some one less strong, but more skilful than yourself even as the coachman was served out by a pupil of the immortal Broughton sixty years old, it is true, but possessed of Broughton's guard and chop.
Do na bother me so!" cried Nick, and dug his heels into the cracks between the paving-stones; for after all that had come to pass the starting of the baggage-train had made him sick for home. Cicely looked up at him; she thought she had not heard aright. He was staring after the last cart as it rolled through the inn-yard gate; his throat was working, and his eyes were full of tears.
He found a good many boxes standing upon the pavement close by the archway that led to the inn-yard, and around them had gathered a group of loungers, not too cold to be interested. These were looking towards the windows of the inn, where the owner of the boxes had evidently disappeared.
"You have had but little kindness shown you, my poor boy, if you think so much of this." "No all people were very kind to me once. I did not value it then." Here the coach rolled heavily down the dark arch of the inn-yard. "Take care of yourself, my boy! You look ill;" and in the dark the man slipped a sovereign into Philip's hand. "I don't want money.
A man came out of the inn-yard and spoke to the chauffeur. It seemed to be an offer of refreshment, for the latter left his seat and disappeared inside. He was away for some time and returned shivering and grumbling at the weather, with the collar of his greatcoat turned up around his ears. A lantern had been hung in the porch and as he passed Mary saw the man.
When we drove into the inn-yard, however, we could hear unruly voices in the house, and feared we might fall into bad company. A man immediately came up to us, and said to me, in a low voice: "Are you M. Jacques Bonneval?" "I am. Are you Antoine Leroux?" "Hist! yes. There are ill-disposed people in the inn; you had better not go in-doors. Can you walk a little way?" "Yes." "Come with me, then."
With some trouble, I got over the tall brick wall down which I had dropped the night before. Then I climbed up to the pigeon-house, down the loft-ladder, into the inn-yard, to the broken back door of the tavern. The door hung from one hinge, with its lower panels kicked in just as the soldiers had left it. The inn was open to anybody who cared to enter.
I've heard that the people are poor," said Walker. "Somebody told me that they'd had a queer lot about the house, and that three or four of them left just then. I think I heard that two or three men from the place went to New Zealand together. It just came out in conversation while I was in the inn-yard." "I have never heard anything of it," said Walker. "I don't say that it can help us."
Take, for instance, Gustave Dore's drawing of Don Quixote watching his armour in the inn-yard.
Julie soon began to think that, when once reunited to her husband, Victor would know how to defend her against this singular persecution. "Yet suppose that in spite of everything, this young man does not love me?" This was the thought that came last of all. No sooner did she reach Orleans than the Prussians stopped the chaise. It was wheeled into an inn-yard and put under a guard of soldiers.
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