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The inn-room was deserted save for Maître Jacques, who, with heat, demanded of me whether I took myself for a prince, that I lay in bed till all decent folk had been hours about their business, and then expected breakfast. However, he brought me a meal, and I made no complaint that it was a poor one. "You have strange neighbours in the house opposite," said I.
"Au contraire, mon maitre," replied the Greek, "I had just engaged myself at the house of the Duke of Frias, from whom I was to receive ten dollars per month more than I shall accept from your worship; but on hearing that you were without a domestic, I forthwith told the Duke, though it was late at night, that he would not suit me, and here I am."
But Maitre Pierre, deflecting a little from the road, which had now joined an open and public causeway, said to his companion that the inn to which he intended to introduce him stood somewhat secluded, and received only the better sort of travellers.
They were talking of M. de Choiseul. "He is a mere 'petit maitre'," said the Doctor, "and, if he were handsome just fit to be one of Henri the Third's favourites." The Marquis de Mirabeau and M. de La Riviere came in. "This kingdom," said Mirabeau, "is in a deplorable state. There is neither national energy, nor the only substitute for it money."
But Julien interrupted him with an imperious gesture, and replied, frowning angrily: "If you please, Maitre Arbillot, we will not enter upon that subject. I have already tried my best to show a kindly feeling toward Monsieur Claudet, but I have been only here twenty-four hours, and he has already found opportunities for affronting me twice. I beg you not to speak of him again."
She called him "Dear master" again and again, and still often "Cher maître," and appeared to express gratitude and reverence by every intonation. "You're doing the humble dependent now," he said: "you do it beautifully, as you do everything." She replied that she didn't make it humble enough she couldn't; she was too proud, too insolent in her triumph.
Jean thought she was not, but Maitre Ranulph said "Pardi, I ought to know, Jean. Ship-building is my trade, to say nothing of guns I wasn't two years in the artillery for nothing. See the low bowsprit and the high poop. She's bearing this way. She'll be Narcissus!" he said slowly. That was Philip d'Avranche's ship. Guida's face lighted, her heart beat faster. Ranulph turned on his heel.
I had to listen to him, and he had to pay me for listening. I've no doubt his general yearly expenditure has been increased for the same reason eh, Maitre Fille? He has done it with others yes?" M. Fille waved a hand in deprecation, and his voice had a little acidity as he replied: "Ah, monsieur, what can we poor provincials do any of us in dealing with men like you, philosophy or no philosophy?
We shall spend some time here." Draconmeyer arrested the much impressed maître d'hôtel as he was hurrying away. "Is there dancing here to-night?" he enquired. "But certainly, monsieur," the man replied. "A Spanish lady, altogether ravishing, the equal of Otéro at her best Signorina Melita." "She dances alone?" "By no means. There is the young Frenchman, Jean Coulois, who is engaged for the season.
If, perchance, he looked three times at her consecutively, she gaped with expectation, hoping that he would tell her that her face was not so red to-day as usual a mark of rare affection. At last Guida noticed Jean's look. "What is it that you see, Maitre Jean?" she said. "Little black wasps, I think, ma'm'selle-little black wasps that sting." Guida did not understand.
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